Honolulu Weekly

Catch the Dream: The Story of Hawai’i Winter Baseball
Lance Tominaga
Watermark Publishing, 191 pp, $19.95

Outside of the University of Hawai’i system, sports don’t get much attention in the islands, which makes Lance Tominaga’s Catch the Dream: The Story of Hawaii Winter Baseball a treat. Tominaga painstakingly recreates the journey it took to create a winter baseball league. Those who have played in the winter league included Ichiro Suzuki, Jason Giambi and Benny Agbayani.

Non-fans of local baseball, or sports in general, will probably not find any of this appealing, but Tominaga has a straightforward, reporterly style that should please fans of the sport. A certain drama and admiration is created when just considering the monumental task of putting such a thing together in Hawai’i.

In Tominaga’s words: ‘The Hawai’i Winter Baseball League isn’t just about one man capturing a dream. It’s about many more young men–more than a hundred every season–having an opportunity to advance their dreams of playing baseball at the highest level. It’s about generations of local fans, from the 5-year-old dreamer just learning to swing a bat to the wizened kupuna retelling his favorite stories about Mantle and Mays, sharing the baseball experience together at the ballpark.’

Also included are pages upon pages of stats, league records, team rosters, game photos and trading card prints. –Ryan Senaga

Hey Waiter, There’s an Umbrella in My Drink!: Tales from the tropics by Hawai’i’s favorite humorist Charles Memminger Watermark Publishing, 176pp, $16.95

Every mid-to-major-sized U.S. city has one–a cranky-cute curmudgeon with a flare for self-effacement, hyperbole and the kind of righteous, hands-in-the-air confusion that 60 Minutes‘ Andy Rooney has made a career out of. Atlanta had Lewis Grizzard. Miami has Dave Barry. And Honolulu has Charles Memminger. He’s our lovable jester of the journalistic scene. He’s our master of the corny joke and the bad pun. He’s our critic of the absurdities and calamities that those living on these lovely–and sometimes maddening–islands face on a day-to-day basis. With Hey Waiter, There’s an Umbrella in My Drink!, Memminger has assembled some of his favorite essays from the Honolulu Star-Bulletin–tales about the indestructibility of Spam, the quirks of watching closed caption TV and the ’strange, dangerous territory’ known as Waikiki–a wasteland of ABC stores, super-stretch limos and overpriced everything. Memminger’s good-natured, by-golly humor ray gun is usually set on ‘don’t offend,’ but when the columnist attempts to handle the serious the same way he discusses mac salad and $773 trash cans (see the essay on 9/11 and another mentioning the Kaloko Dam break), the tone simply doesn’t work. The nonchalant manner in which he handles weighty matters suggests a dependance on superficial wisecracks and a lack of emotional and intellectual depth. That said, there’s a reason Memminger keeps it light and fluffy. It may not always be appropriate, but more often than not, it’s funny.

–Chris Haire

IZ: Voice of the People
Rick Carroll
Bess Press, 192pp, $39.95

John Dominis Holt may have written the manifesto for the Hawaiian sovereignty movement when he penned the essay ‘On Being Hawaiian.’ The 1976 landing and occupation of Kaho’olawe may have been the act of civil disobedience that made the movement a reality. But in many ways, it was Israel Kamaka< \h>wiwo’ole, Bruddah Iz, that provided the native Hawaiians with their voice, an everlasting spirit that could not be silenced, one that would serve as reminder of what had been lost and what still needed to be done. Memories of past triumphs fade. Once provocative essays become the subject of college lectures and term papers. But songs, like Iz’s ‘Hawaii ‘78′ and ‘E Ala E,’ have a way of staying in the present, of remaining alive, that simple words or deeds do not. The same can be said of Iz himself. Rick Carroll’s IZ: Voice of the People is a celebration of the gentle giant, as an artist and an activist. Part coffee table photo album, part biography, Carroll’s book draws upon interviews and photographs from friends and family. The book does have its shortcomings though–an over reliance on album cover artwork and publicity materials and few candid photos of Iz, and of those, too many of Iz in his ailing years. But Carroll succeeds in tracing how a mischievous young boy with a gift for song and a haunting voice was influenced by the Hawaiian renaissance to become not only a Hawaiian Sup’pa Man of the stage, but the voice of the people. –C.H.

Rough Riders: Hawai’i’s Paniolo and Their Stories
Ilima Loomis
Island Heritage Publishing, 148pp. $15.99

In Rough Riders, Ilima Loomis takes an intimate look at Hawai’i’s

@ED Body Blurbs:paniolo culture. Raised and residing on Maui, Loomis elevates her subjects to near heroic heights, clearly having enormous respect for her subject matter. Weaving her tale with a reverent tone, Loomis tells the nearly 200-year-old story of the cowboys that defined the ranching culture of the islands.

Fabulous photographs of every aspect of paniolo life create an intimate portrait of the Hawaiian landscape and the people who earned their living from it. In sharp contrast to the storied Wild West, Loomis paints a picture of a ranching culture saturated with aloha. Her vivid descriptions of ranching life on each of the Hawaiian Islands unify the paniolo in a way that distances them from the cowboys of the mainland.

While their livelihood and the tools they use create a resemblance to the cowhands of the West, the lines on their sun-tanned faces differ slightly: Loomis’s subjects work with a love and understanding of the land. Tracing their history from the past to the present, the paniolo lifestyle continues. From the fabled Parker Ranch to the smaller operations throughout the islands, Rough Riders is a comprehensive and visually stunning achievement. Highly recommended. –Evan Smith

The Squeaky Wheel: An Unauthorized Autobiography
Brian Shaughnessy
Open Door Co., 404 pp, $18.88

The disclaimer comes first: I’ve known Brian Shaughnessy for some 20 years and he wrote me into his book–a minor role and under a pseudonym. Look for ‘Stu.’

Look quick.

Now about the book: It’s powerful, it’s compelling, it’s horrific, and it’s got an edge so raw fingers bleed turning pages. At age 24, Shaughnessy woke up from a botched surgery unable to use his arms and his legs. For some of us, that would’ve meant a life of darkness, camped in a wheelchair, waiting for Cheers to end and Frasier to begin. Shaughnessy fought back, and this book is one giant punch to the face of those who give up to adversity.

To be honest, the writing is uneven, rough at times and quite a few recognizable local personalities get bitch slapped, albeit pseudonymously (not Stu, thank goodness.) What makes it worth your sawbuck is the intensity of Shaughnessy’s life, his drive to realize his human potential, to overcome every damn obstacle he might encounter. On the way, he studies theater with famed playwright Mark Medoff, writes plays, founds theater companies, becomes a lawyer, and then, a husband and a father. And, he writes hot sex scenes.

- Steve Wagenseller

Honolulu Weekly Recommends

No Footprints in the Sand: A Memoir of Kalaupapa
Henry Nalaielua with Sally-Jo Bowman
Watermark Publishing, 192pp, $16.95

Footprints in the sand are fleeting as the eager tide wipes away each shallow impression. Sometimes we race the current, but the effort is in vain and the shore is restored to its familiar blank canvas. In stark contrast, Henry Nalaielua’s memoir of Kalaupapa leaves an indelible mark on the mind. The places and people are recalled with such detail that it seems his memories are also ours.

Co-written by Hawai’i and Oregon writer Sally-Jo Bowman, No Footprints in the Sand is told with grace and beauty by two unforgettable storytellers. Nalaielua was diagnosed with Hansen’s disease at 10 years old; so begins his journey from the cane fields of Nino’ole on the Big Island’s Hamakua coast to the remote settlement on Moloka’i. The details of his imprisonment in Kailihi Hospital and exile to Kalaupapa are vivid and require no photographs to conjure images of the pain and humiliation he endured while also suffering the physical pains of his crippling disease.

Nalaielua refuses to let Hansen’s disease define him and so his story is told. Read it as inspirational. Read it as historical. Read it as a little bit of both. In the end, this history is Nalaielua’s footprint-unfading and unforgettable.

- Lei Ana Green