I liked this official, political autobiography more than I thought I would. I had expected something staid, so I was disarmed by the book's openness. It is far from the whole truth and it reads like it. But the book has a lyrical charm that is full of heartache and blessing. Perhaps that’s the Irish in Ted Kennedy.

There is a loving, nostalgic quality to the first half of the book, where Kennedy details growing up in the Kennedy clan. True Compass is as close as we will ever come to having memoirs by his three older brothers:  Joe (who was killed in action in 1944), Jack (who was assassinated in 1963), and Bobby (who was assassinated in 1968). Ted looked up to them from the viewpoint of a much-younger brother. Jack (who was 15 years older) was his godfather, mentor, and guide to Washington politics. The book is full of examples of Jack's thoughtful tutelage and care. Ted Kennedy doesn’t seem to have been as close to Bobby. As the caboose in a long line of overachievers, Ted felt he couldn't live up. "As I think back to my three brothers, and about what they had accomplished before I was even out of childhood," he writes, "it sometimes has occurred to me that my entire life has been a constant state of catching up."

Kennedy had his share of childhood hardship. I was surprised that Kennedy attended 10 schools between 1937 (age 5) to 1950 (age 18). He was a mediocre student who never stayed at any school long enough to form friendships. At one point, he was sent to a Catholic boarding school in Riverdale,  New York, where he witnessed nightly sexual abuse of boys by an abusive housemaster, which he says he luckily missed.

The second half of the book is a more traditional political autobiography, except that Ted Kennedy comes across as a man who got lost along the way. He says he could not cope after Jack and Bobby were murdered. It never occurred to him he was being overwhelmed by grief and could get help. He says he kept it all inside and tried to keep going. He drank too much. His life spun out of control. Although he admits to his weaknesses and foibles generally, when he comes up to the brink of the serious scandals, such as Chappaquiddick, he stops at the edge and sticks to the script. I'm not sure it's reasonable to have expected more, but I was still disappointed.  By the time he finally found himself, Kennedy had figured out how to deepen his love of country, family and friends, and work. He had also figured out that he needed to be married to a buddy, not a trophy wife.  He devotes a chapter to Victoria Reggie Kennedy, making it clear that without her, he would never have been the man he became.

I was recently contacted by Shawn Nicholls, the on-line publicist at William Morrow. William Morrow is the publisher of The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind: Creating Currents of Electricity and Hope, by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer. Because I had reviewed Three Cups of Tea, Shawn asked me if I would review The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind.

I’m glad I said yes.

William Kamkwamba grew up in Masitala village, a small village near the city of Kasungu, in Malawi. Poverty, lack of resources, back-breaking work, and a corrupt government were the everyday realities in William’s life. On their own, they would have been enough to break anyone, but on top of them, William also faced drought, famine, and starvation. His dog starved to death, as did at least one of his classmates. There so little to eat, villagers ate maize husks left in the dirt.

And yet, William pursued his dream of building a windmill to create electricity. He was a self-taught tinkerer who repaired radios, and an avid reader. He devoured Explaining Physics, which he borrowed from a small local lending library. With an insatiable drive and an avid desire to learn, but with very little help from anyone else, he eventually built the windmill, which supplies electricity to his family and village. Thist accomplishment may not sound like much, but in Malawi, only 2% of the population has electricity. And William was born in 1988, so he’s only in his 20s.

An old philosophical debate asks the question: are we living in the best of all possible worlds or the worst of all possible worlds? I like to think, as Adin Steinsaltz has said, that we are living in the worst of all possible worlds in which there is still hope. This book is about being inventive in nearly impossible circumstances. It will inspire you. I highly recommend it.