Last week I finished Belles On Their Toes by Frank Gilbreth Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey. 87 on my list of 100.
It was much better than Cheaper By The Dozen and I almost liked it. I might even recommend it...maybe. It's like a newspaper article--a lively recitation of who, what, when, where, and how--but never why. There's no depth in it.
Apparently the two books were semi-biographical, written by two of the children of the family of a dozen. I wonder if they were written while their mother was still alive? If not, then I don't fault them for lack of depth; but if so, I wish they'd asked more questions of her. She's a woman who had so much to tell--did she never get a chance to tell it?
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