BOOK
THOMAS GOETZ: THE DECISION TREE
(Rodale)

Given the circuslike debate on Capitol Hill, you might have abandoned all hope of seeing our dysfunctional healthcare system improved. Thomas Goetz hasn’t. The executive editor of Wired (he also has a master’s in public health from UC Berke­ley) posits a hopeful future, one that combines “the lessons of technology and the rigor of public health” to person­alize and improve our health­care: Online tracking software and social networking will help us take advantage of an ever expanding stream of health data, DNA testing will offer snapshots of our genetic pre­dis­positions, and doctors will be able to detect disease before it strikes—or at least manage it better once it does. Goetz lays out the benefits of this more engaged approach in clear, commonsensical prose. But many of his fixes depend on Herculean efforts by tech-savvy patients, and it’s hard to see how they translate to the unwired bulk of our citizenry. Moreover, he barely mentions the pernicious “fee for service” model that rewards doctors not for fostering good health but for ordering expensive tests and procedures—a widespread practice that stands in the way of many of his preventive-care prescriptions. “Change is hard,” Goetz notes. That’s an understatement. While laudable, the sol­­utions he offers here feel less like revolutions than like workarounds.  B-
CHRIS SMITH

ALBUM
SALVADOR SANTANA: KEYBOARD CITY
(Quannum)

The music business—like most industries—is rife with children who attempt to fol­­-low in their parents’ footsteps. Few prog­eny, however, have come close to matching the success of their predecessors, save the occasional chart-topper like Julian Lennon, Wilson Phillips, or the Wall­flowers. On his first solo album, Salvador Santana, son of Bay Area native and Latin-rock titan Carlos, attempts to step out of the shadow of his papa. Helped along by local MC and producer Del the Funky Homosapien and “fourth Beastie Boy” Money Mark, Salvador has con­cocted a disc of keyboard-driven R&B that’s as far removed from his dad’s jazz-rock jams as possible. Unfor­tunately, even though the band lays down plenty of smooth grooves and insistent keyboard melodies, the songs tend to drift by uneventfully. Salvador doesn’t display much person­ality on the mic, but the main problem is his clichéd lyrics, which seem gleaned from AA meetings and Dylan records—see “One step at a time / And don’t think twice” from “This Day (Belongs to You).” Santana the Younger may have inherited some chops, but it takes more than technical skill and good collaborators to make great music.  C+
DAN STRACHOTA

BOOK
ERIC PUCHNER: MODEL HOME
(Scribner)

Like his acclaimed short-story collection, Music Through the Floor, former San Franciscan Eric Puch­ner’s powerful first novel is much more than the sum of its deceptively simple parts. The curtains open, as they do in so many contem­porary novels filling remainder bins across the country, on an apparently flawless mid­dle-class couple and their discontents. It’s the 1980s in Southern California, and the Zillers are hiding secrets: Warren, a defeated real-estate developer, has yet to admit to his family that they are near bankruptcy; his wife, Camille, nurses resent­ment behind her persistent optimism. They have a pair of mismatched teenagers—effortlessly popular Dustin and pale, sullen Lyle—and 11-year-old Jonas, pre­cocious but curiously disconnected, who floats through rooms like a foreign-exchange student making the best of an awkward homestay. But Puchner has greater, darker plans for the Zillers. About halfway through Model Home, he slams them with a domestic apocalypse. It would be unfair to say more about this turn of events, other than that it is perfectly timed and perfectly dreadful. The author then carefully, compassionately sticks around for a hundred more pages to help the Zillers pick up the pieces of their lives. After tragedy, a tender partial redemption.  A
SHEERLY AVNI

ALBUM
RENÉE WILSON: VOODOO QUEEN
(Foxy As Roz)

It’s not just the title of recent San Francisco transplant Renée Wilson’s debut that channels the ghosts of her native New Orleans. Wilson is often billed as a blues singer, but Voodoo Queen is more of a genre cocktail—part pop, part R&B, part big-band musical—that’s haunted by an all-star gallery of influences, from Whitney Houston, Macy Gray, and Jill Scott to founding mothers Alberta and Aretha. Wilson muddles these ingre­dients together with mixed success. For each raw, rhythmic triumph like “Formosa’s Edge” and “Long John Blues,” there’s a pained piano ballad (“For Nothing At All”) or a catchy but generic track (“In My Head”) best suited to the closing credits of a rom-com. Lyrics aren’t exactly the key to blues, and Wilson’s are often forgettable: “I am pure love / What goes through my veins is love / And you are love, too” she croons on—you guessed it—“Love.” But despite these inconsistencies, Wilson never loses control of her throaty, powerful voice. Shunning the melodic gymnastics favored by most latter-day divas, she scats and moans and reaches rich lows that would make her musical ances­tors proud. Is this blues? Not really. But a voodoo queen surely has a few more tricks up her sleeve, and we should all watch out for them.  B
MIA LIPMAN

BOOK
ZOE FITZGERALD CARTER: IMPERFECT ENDINGS
(Simon & Schuster)

Albany-based writer Zoe FitzGerald Carter’s memoir tells the story of her mother’s conflicted decision to, as she puts it, “end things.” After years of struggling with Parkinson’s disease, Margaret Draper has decided to kill herself. The questions her daughter proceeds to explore for 254 pages are: Will Draper have the nerve to do it? When? And, ultimately, how? For many readers who live far from their aging or ailing parents, Carter’s attempt to come to terms with her mother’s decision will be relevant. Others will recognize the often petty family dynamics that cause adults to act like children when dealing with siblings and parents: The author explores the relationships between sisters (Draper’s choice alternatively unites and divides her three daughters), husbands and wives (Carter examines her own marriage, as well as that of her emotionally challenged mother and alcoholic father), and mothers and daughters (Carter wavers between loyal support and total frustration). Draper’s ending is indeed imperfect, marred by delays and deathbed conflicts, and this book is equally flawed. Carter describes her mother’s unpublished memoir—given to family members before Draper’s death—as suffering from “pervasive emotional opaqueness.” In contrast, Carter’s own look back is weakened by an overabundance of navel-gazing.  C-
MARY JO BOWLING