A DEATH IN KENYA; by Michael Hiltzik; Delacorte Press; 368 pages; $20.
Michael Hiltzik, a Los Angeles Times reporter who has lived in Kenya as bureau chief since 1988, is mesmerized by his adopted home, as much in its thrall as was Julie Ward, a young British woman who was murdered there in 1989. Once past a turgid introduction, Hiltzik provides a lyrical, gracefully written account of a young, impressionable woman who fell in love with Africa - and of her father, who journeyed there to hunt for her murderers when local law enforcement proved less than reliable.This is the sort of true-crime book that lends dignity to the category, a well-researched investigation, not just of a single crime but also of the environment where it occurred. John Ward's crusade, the political infighting among African bureaucrats and their resentment of British tourists, the history of the area, all are interwoven in a well-paced tale.WHEN YOU LOOK LIKE YOUR PASSPORT PHOTO, IT'S TIME TO GO HOME; by Erma Bombeck; HarperCollins; 256 pages; $19.95.
Erma Bombeck has gone around the world in 80 one-liners, having packed up her trademark self-deprecatory sarcasm and headed for the vast unknown. Her targets are fairly predictable - faulty plumbing, her own shopping addiction, restless natives, church-laden tours. But then, Bombeck has always addressed her generation's great expectations; much of her appeal seems to be that she says what plenty of people are thinking and only wish they could say as comically as she does.
Some of her Bombeck-bashing might make younger women wince (is there a statute of limitations on jokes about women who shop and like clean lavatories?), but at least she doles as good as she gets. No one escapes unscathed.DANCING WITH DADDY; by Betsy Petersen; Bantam; 180 pages; $19.
Somehow I imagine that the experience of reading "Dancing With Daddy" is like watching open-heart surgery on a stranger. It pushes the boundaries of comprehension - and all the while, you cannot help but feel that what you have witnessed is too personal to be made public.
Betsy Petersen certainly is not the first, nor, sadly, will she be the last, to write an autobiographical account of childhood sexual abuse. She undoubtedly is one of the nerviest survivors to tackle the issue. The anguish on these pages is palpable, as she confronts what her father did to her, and how she in turn has abused her sons without ever laying a hand on them.