Back when it looked like we may not get NFL action this year, I wrote a post about replacing the pro teams with the "best" college team that shared their nickname (or coming up with something fitting if no one shared the nickname).

I didn't do this for the NBA because (a) I don't follow basketball as closely as I do football, and (b) I forgot that I'd done that for the NFL. But, for completeness' sake, here's what I'd come up with for the NBA. Just without most of the exposition, because that NFL post is long.

Atlantic Division


Carlow University for the Boston Celtics - Carlow, located in Pittsburgh, is a graduate school that gets to play in the NAIA. Their basketball team plays at a local high school.

Farleigh-Dickinson University for the New Jersey Nets - no colleges use Nets or Americans, the team's first name. So as they originally played in Teaneck, I went with the one school located in Teaneck.

Union College for the New York Knicks - no Knicks or Knickerbockers, so as that was a name for the area's Dutch settlers, I went for the Dutchmen.

UNC-Charlotte for the Philadelphia '76ers - no '76ers in the college ranks, so I went with the closest number I could find - the '49ers.

Bard College for the Toronto Raptors - hey, someone else really liked Jurassic Park!

Central Division

University of Buffalo for the Chicago Bulls - South Florida plays in a better conference but is almost always under .500, so we go with the MAC.

University of Virginia for the Cleveland Cavaliers - with the added benefit of going back to the orange and blue unis.

Murray State University for the Detroit Pistons - no Pistons, nothing really car-related out there for nicknames, so thinking about what people do with cars I went with the Racers.

University of South Carolina - Aiken for the Indiana Pacers - the younger Pacers have been making the D2 playoffs of late, which is more than you can say for the NBA version.

Fairfield University for the Milwaukee Bucks - no Bucks in the college game, and Ohio State seemed like cheating as buckeyes have nothing to do with deer. So I went with the Stags.

Southeast Division


St. Joseph's University for the Atlanta Hawks - plenty of schools to choose from, but not at the same level.

Montana State University for the Carolina Bobcats - I have no idea if they're the best team with the nickname (I suppose Quinnipiac may be better?), but they seem like they're the best of the bunch. Plus Craig  Kilborne used to play for them. Remember him?

Liberty University for the Miami Heat - no school is dumb enough to use Heat as a nickname, so as there are flames on their unis I went with the schools with that as a nickname. I suppose UIC might be better, but I tend to remember seeing Liberty in my NCAA bracket more recently. I could be making that up.

LeMoyne-Owens College for the Orlando Magic - no school is dumb enough to use Magic as a nickname, but there is one that uses Magicians.

Gettysburg College for the Washington Wizards - no Wizards on the college level, but one Bullets.

Northwest Divison


University of Texas-El Paso for the Denver Nuggets - no Nuggets, go with the guys who find them.

Northwood University for the Minnesota Timberwolves - which is unfortunate, as I really wanted to use the Colorado State-Pueblo Thunderwolves. Apparently, adding "Thunder" to your nickname is the 2000s equivalent of the 1980s/90s practice of sneaking black into your uniform.

Wheaton College for the Oklahoma City Thunder - that's the Wheaton in Illinois, just in case Anne Curry is reading.

Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts for the Portland Trail Blazers - and easy call, as the nicknames match and both are in the woods.

Oklahoma City University for the Utah Jazz - no Jazz, so I went with the Stars based on Utah's ABA franchise. Not related, but easier than coming up with something else.

Pacific Division


University of Hawaii for the Golden State Warriors - I expect the team to revolt when told they have to move from a tropical paradise to Oakland.

Concordia University for the Los Angeles Clippers - I was going to go with the University of Maine-Machias, but the NBA Clippers have had enough pain.

Grand Valley State University for the Los Angeles Lakers - too lazy to see if they're actually better at basketball than Lake Superior State or Mercyhurst.

Florida Christian College for the Phoenix Suns - if what I'm reading is correct, basketball is the only men's sport at FCC.

Old Dominion University for the Sacramento Kings - I suppose Kings as a college nickname got the boot once women's teams became common. So Monarchs seems like the next best option.

Southwest Conference


University of Texas-Arlington for the Dallas Mavericks - that'll be an easy move.

University of Toledo for the Houston Rockets - we have liftoff.

University of Montana for the Memphis Grizzlies - what are the odds that two teams from Montana would figure in this?

Alabama State University for the New Orleans Hornets - more Hornets out there than I expected.

Lubbock Christian University for the San Antonio Spurs - no Spurs at the college level, but as they started their ABA life as the Dallas Chaparrals I went with that.

OK, let's have labor peace, professional sports leagues. I don't think I have the strength to do this again.

Welcome to Making it Better: the Boston.com top 100 New England books list edition.

Usually this feature covers five items, but today you get a bonus replacement. Aren't you lucky?

Remove: Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat

Add: The Lobster Coast by Colin Woodward

Danticat's only connection to New England is that she earned her MFA at Brown. She was born in Haiti, grew up in New York, and now seems to split time between New York and Miami. Her listed book doesn't appear to have anything to do with New England at all.

If we want a book that deals with identity but also has a New England connection, The Lobster Coast fits the bill. It discusses the history and current social crises of Maine's Down East population, and how their traditional ways are threatened by fishery problems and the increased number of non-Mainers who now live in the area. I don't doubt that Breath, Eyes, Memory tells a more dramatic story, but it is not, in a basic sense, a New England story (outside of the number of Hatian immigrants who live in New England).

Remove: Sophie's Choice by William Styron

Add: Zodiac by Neal Stephenson

Both authors have a connection to the region - Styron lived his later years on Martha's Vineyard and is buried there, Stephenson is a BU grad. But between Sophie's Choice and Zodiac, the latter is much more steeped in New England, as it's set in and around Boston and involves a group of harbor fishermen, late night escapades among the Harbor Islands, our (then) nascent biotech industry and a thinly-disguised version of Teddy Kennedy. 

I'm not saying Zodiac is the better book - I've never read Sophie's Choice - or even that it's Stephenson's best book (either Snow Crash or Cryptonomicon). But if we're talking about books by authors who were temporary New Englanders, might as well list a book that's actually set in New England.

Remove: Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom

Add: New England White by Stephen Carter

I'll admit that I've not fully read Tuesdays with Morrie, but I have a kind of visceral reaction to Albom and his books based on excerpts and reviews that I've read. I see treacly overly-sentimental hogwash where others get inspiration. That may be a problem with me rather than him, but as I'm making the changes, off this goes.

New England White isn't sentimental or inspirational at all. It's about a murder in a small town near an unnamed Ivy League school, and the involvement of that school's president and dean of the divinity school - who are married to each other. The book expertly probes race, class, and education from inside the world of upper-class African-Americans. You'd do as well to read The Emperor of Ocean Park and Palace Council, all of which make up an interesting trilogy.

Remove: The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

Add: Harvard Yard by William Martin

While there's at least some connection between New England and The DaVinci Code - Robert Langdon teaches at Harvard, and Dan Brown is a life-long New Englander - the vast majority of the book takes place in Europe. 

If you want an historical thriller written by a native New Englander, go with Harvard Yard, one of a series of novels that Martin has written featuring antiquarian Peter Fallon that is actually set in New England. You could just as easily go with Back Bay or Cape Cod, which is not part of the Fallon series but is equal to those books.

Remove: The Emperor's Children by Claire Messud

Add: Let Me Tell You a Story by John Feinstein

Like Breath, Eyes, Memory, this book gets on the list due to the author's New England ties (though in this case, she is a native New Englander). It does not get on for any New England content, as there is none.

My replacement is kind of the opposite. Red Auerbach had no real New England ties - he was born in Brooklyn and spent a lot of his adult years in Washington D.C. - but became one of the most iconic figures in Boston sports. I also incuded this book because all of the sports books included on the list seem to have as much to do with the Yankees as the Red Sox.

Remove: The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Add: The Siege of Salt Cove by Anthony Weller

Here I'm taking out a book with which I feel absolutely no connection to one that absolutely connects. The Siege of Salt Cove starts with the Commonwealth of Massachusetts deciding that they are going to replace the town of Salt Cove's wooden bridge with a concrete span. Turns out the locals hate the plan, and the rest of the book unfolds with the locals fighting the state, real estate developers, and each other. Weller has a good eye for capturing the local spirit, and his inspiration for the book - the Annisquam Bridge, located in Gloucester - is something I saw every time we went to my grandmother's house in Rockport.

The folks at Boston.com came up with their list of 100 essential New England books, and for the first 20 or so it's a pretty solid list. The books either have a significant New England setting or are by authors with strong New England ties. But as the list goes into the other 80 books, we start to get more books that take place outside of New England written by people whose only tie to the region is a college of university where they were a student or are faculty. I'm thinking this is why I've read so few books on the list, even if in reality it's because I prefer books where time travelers give the Aztecs tanks so they can beat Cortez.

Anyway, here's what I've read on this list, with ranking in parentheses:

Make Way for Ducklings (3) - a fitting place for Robert McCloskey's best known work, but his books set in Maine are equally worth exploring.

A Prayer for Owen Meany (5) - this might be my favorite book on the list. It is infinitely better than that crap movie based on it, so don't let the film hold you back from reading this. 

Mountains Beyond Mountains (6) - Tracy Kidder could easily have four or five books on this list, from his '80s tech classic The Soul of a New Machine to the exploration of Northampton in Home Town. This book, which introduces us to Paul Farmer, a doctor whose dedication to improving health care in places as disparate as Haiti and Siberia is richly detailed and inspirational, even when countered with the pages on the red tape and personal intransigence that frustrate Farmer on a regular basis.

Empire Falls (9) - Richard Russo has a gift for writing about broken down people in broken down towns finding some sort of redemption, and this is his best of the bunch.

The Scarlet Letter (19) - Nathaniel Hawthorne's best known work. Read it in high school. Do not feel particularly motivated to read it again, though comparing it to the novelization from the movie version starring Demi Moore could be an entertaining exercise.

The Rascal King (25) - really interesting bio of James Curley. Should be higher.

Cod (29) - one of Mark Kurlansky's books that enumerates the impact of a single thing on society. Salt is better known, but I think this book does a better job thanks to the focus brought on by its comparative brevity.

Mystic River (38) - liked the book and the movie, surprising as reading the book first so often leads to being disappointed in the movie. I do often find the Southie/Dorchester stereotypes grating, but thought the treatment here wasn't too bad.

The Crucible (43) - read it in high school, and was lucky enough to have it taught by someone who worked in relevant local history (living as close to Salem as we did) and didn't soft-pedal the Communist witch hunt subtext. 

The Catcher in the Rye (61) - read it in high school, never quite got the fascination. 

A Civil Action (64) - Jonathan Harr's recounting of a David versus Goliath legal battle in Woburn, where a cancer cluster was blamed on a local industrial site. Exactly the sort of book an impressionable law student with an interest in environmental and health issues would love. And even when that student wound up in a completely different career, it's still a gripping story that shows truth is oftentimes better than Grisham.

Memoirs of a Geisha (68) - this is not a book that I would normally gravitate towards, but between the buzz and its constant appearance on the library shelf, I took a flier on it. I'm glad I did. 

A Walk in the Woods (73) - Bill Bryson's hikes on the Appalachian Trail form the basis of this book, which shows of both his attention to fact and detail and his trademark sense of humor. 

The Da Vinci Code (76) - the only way this book should be on here is if there were only 100 books with a New England connection. And even then I don't think it'd be higher than 98. I get that it was a publishing phenomenon, but if that's the metric that matters we might as well have Michelin give McDonald's three stars.

The Secret History (81) - to paraphrase Roger Ebert, I hated hated hated hated hated this book. As a New Englander, higher ed professional, and classics major, there was not one thing I could identify with in this book about a small group of students and a classics professor at a New England college. I read this for a book group that never actually met, which made it doubly infuriating that I slogged through this for no good reason.

The Handmaid's Tale (87) - I read this somewhat early in my interest in alternative history, and thus read it with that more in mind than the feminist or religious themes. Not that you can avoid them, but I think I spent a decent part of the book not quite seeing the forest for the trees.

Bringing Down the House (88) - the blurb for this list should use "true" rather than true when discussing the story. I can't accept the way Mezrich beats the facts into a shape that best fits his narrative. I think if you can't make a non-fiction story exciting using the facts as they stand, either the story's not that good or the writer's not that good.

The Old Patagonian Express (93) - I like Paul Theroux's travel work, and think this is probably the best choice for this list, as it does actually start in Massachusetts, with Theroux leaving his family home in Medford as the first step of a journey to the edge of the Americas.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar (100) - what can I say, I have a kid.

Not surprisingly, there are other books I've not read whose presence on this list I can't quite accept. I'll tackle some of those next.

Book Log 2011 #25: The Gun by C. J. Chivers

So here's the thing: while this book claims to tell the history of the AK-47 and its impact on the world, it's actually a much broader work than that. It's really the history of automatic rifles, and for the first third of the book you're going to see the names Gatling and Maxim much more often than Kalashnikov. And while we do get to spend quality time with the credited designer of the world's most popular weapon, we also spend a fair amount of time at the end going over the creation of the M-16, whose troubled development is a good counterpoint to the pride of Soviet engineering.

You should not let this expansive nature get in the way of reading the book, if this is the sort of thing that interests you. I did wish for more detail on the AK itself, but understood the limitations presented by trying to write something authoritative when there are multiple - and conflicting - "official" histories. This part of the AK's history - the inside baseball of Soviet engineering and politics - is probably its most interesting aspect, but it's hard to get a full grasp on it through the propaganda.

So if you were really looking for a focused book about the AK-47 and Kalashnikov, this isn't it. As a broader work about automatic weapons and their impact on warfare, it's worth a read.

Book Log 2011 #24: The Last Dickens by Matthew Pearl


When Charles Dickens suddenly dies, the pressure on his American publisher to print his final novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, increases greatly, especially when there are other publishers doing what they can to obtain the manuscript once it arrives from London. James Osgood represents the publisher, and as events unfold he not only has to fight off the publishing competition but solve a series of murders which claimed an employee and are seemingly related to the ending. Throw in a subplot set in India and flashbacks to Dickens' American tours and you have the setting for Pearl's most recent novel.

Thankfully, the book is less confusing than my attempt to summarize it so long after actually reading it, though it does take some time to see how the pieces fit together (especially the parts taking place in India), though it's certainly worth the work to get to where everything fits together. The Publishers Weekly review suggested the ending could be considered a cop-out, and while I don't recall feeling that way it's worth a warning, I suppose. The level of detail is good as always, and as a local I did appreciate the amount of action that took place in greater Boston.

All in all, I think I liked The Dante Club better, but did enjoy this one quite a bit.

Book Log 2011 #23: Heat by Bill Buford


There's a lot going on in this book: the author quits his day job at The New Yorker so he can work for Mario Batali in the Babbo kitchen, works his way up the ladder a bit, and then decamps to Italy to meet and work with/for the people Batali worked for and found his inspiration for traditional, hand-made Italian cuisine. Then there's the autobiographical part about Batali, whose full-tilt personality and colorful work history make him define the idea of being larger than life. And on top of that is the author's own developing obsession for making this food, which underscores why people will put up with lousy hours and often hostile working conditions to make great dishes.

On top of this we get a mountain of engrossing detail. The minutae about working at Babbo is similar to what's come up in other books about working in high-end restaurants, but is well recounted and not repetitive of other works. Buford goes out of his way to look at the history of the food he prepares, from the elevation of the short rib to the development of the traditional recipie for hand-made pasta.

If you have any interest in Batali, Italy or the culinary field, this is a must-read, and I'd think readers with a casual interest would get sucked in as well.  Definitely recommended.

Book Log 2011 #22: 1942 by James Conroy

When Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, there was a plan for a third wave of attacks against stores of fuel and torpedoes, as well as on facilities like dry docks. The leadership passed on making the attack, but in this book Conroy surmises what would have happened if they had made the attack.


The success of the third wave strike leads to the occupation of Hawaii (which is required if you're writing an alternative history of Pearl Harbor), but in the chaos of invasion not all of the American military are accounted for, and in this case the group of fighters who withdraw into the mountains and smaller, poorly patrolled smaller islands do what they can while waiting to help the inevitable counterstrike.

I had some conflicting feelings about the book, and when this happens I'll look at other reviews to see if they can provide some clarity. And they did, in one respect: I did not hate this book as much as some people did. I do agree that the characters were not particularly well developed, and I also found the ending stretched credulity. This wouldn't be the first alternative history to have these problems, so I may be less attentive to them than others.

All that being said, I did find this book more enjoyable in some aspects than Harry Turtledove's two book treatment of a Hawaiian invasion, if only because I found Turtledove's approach too broad (too many characters) and repetitive (if there was a drinking game for the books, the phrase "sketching a salute" would lead to widespread alcohol poisoning). Overall, 1942 is flawed but worth a look if you're into alt history.

Book Log 2011 #20: In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan

The follow-up to The Omnivore's Dilemma, this book looks back to see how we got to the point where most of what we eat isn't so much food as is it processed or engineered nutritional inputs, vitamin and mineral delivery systems that are increasingly unrelated to what you or I, based on common sense, would consider food. The early part of the book gives a good overview at how nutritional science has been used to facilitate this change.

From this, Pollan devises his seven word rule for eating: eat food, not too much, mostly plants, and spends most of the rest of the book talking about what this means and how to do it (which he also does in a more practical manner in his most recent book, Food Rules).

Throughout the book the writing is crisp, clear and engaging. It's very much worth reading.

I can't say I watched much of today's commemorative coverage, and really I've felt disconnected to the whole 10th anniversary thing. It's not an emotional thing - I made my peace with what happened a long time ago - and it's not necessarily a reaction to the amount or tone of coverage, as I expected the coverage to be (a) voluminous and (b) occasionally to often over the top. I will say that what I did see was tastefully done, so thanks to all who were responsible for that.

So how to explain my disconnect? I think it comes from a place where I just want us to move on. I know it's ridiculous to feel this way on what is one of those hallmark anniversary dates, but I can't quite get past the idea that, 10 years on, we should take what happened, draw whatever conclusions we can from it, and look to creating a future which will, hopefully, allow us to avoid a repeat of the past.

It's entirely appropriate for people to be emotional and want to look back, but I have no interest in sharing a "do you remember where you were when you heard" sort of story. I want us to realize we have something great here, and that we need to do what we can - in a sensible and forward-thinking way - to preserve it. This isn't something we've always done over the last ten years, but I can hope that we'll do better over the next ten.

I suppose this gives short shrift to the people who died that day and their families, friends, and co-workers, and I don't intend that. I just like to think that we can take their examples and live with them every day, drawing strength from them even when the tendency is there to wallow in the negative. But I know that days like today are going to be reflective and often involve tears, and I hope that helps people get through the day. But I also hope that we can get through all of the days by remembering who we are and the examples of the people who died in the hopes of letting us keep being who we are.

So here's why I'm not voting for Rick Perry. As has been widely noted, Perry issued a proclamation asking Texans to pray for rain, and I figure he did his fair share of praying as well. The result? An ongoing drought, a massive rainmaker taunting the state from just beyond its borders, and wildfires.The way I look at it, if God is going to foresake Perry, I may as well, too.

Book Log 2011 #20: Our Kind of Traitor by John Le Carre

This latest outing finds a British couple recruited by some arm of the intelligence community to help in the defection of a top money launderer for the Russian mob. The couple, a university professor and barrister, are rank novices but are game to help, and thanks to the shared love of tennis between the couple and the Russian, we're off and running.

The New York Times review of the book noted that the story, while set in the present, trades in many of the spy novel tropes of the Cold War, and while there's a truth to it I think the review doesn't fully attribute the reason for it. The review suggests that Le Carre, while as strong a writer as ever, is stuck in presenting his story in this sort of worldview. I think there's some truth in that, but also ascribe it to the nature of the characters. Several of the agents are longer-term employees, and as such were reared in the Cold War-era spy game. Their actions and thinking would, to some extent, be stuck in that period. It would be as much of a mistake to have all of the agents be postmodern 24-style homeland security types as if they were all James Bond.

All that being said, I enjoyed this as much as any of Le Carre's post-Cold War novels.

Book Log 2011 #19: The World is a Ball by John Doyle

John Doyle has what might be my dream job. He gets to travel to major soccer competitions and report on them, sometimes as a sporting event but more often on the other aspects of the games and/or event (personal, social, political, etc.). I should also note his full-time job is as a newspaper TV critic. I think he really does have my dream job.

Not that it's all a dream. The travel is punishing, the accommodations marginals, and the isolation often maddening. Even so, what comes through clearly is that the payoff for these irritations - between seeing games, meeting fans, and going to places that might otherwise have gone unvisited - is well worth it.

And for all that Doyle isn't a sports reporter, he does a nice job of talking about the players and games in layman's terms, making it easy for a casual but long-time fan of the game to follow along. He also manages to sell his main point about these contests - how the joy of the experience transcends the day to day problems people face - effectively, better than I expected and better than your usual book about the transcendental nature of sports.

A worthy read for the novice and intermediate soccer fan.

Book Log 2011 #18: Scorecasting by Tobias Moskowitz and L. Jon Wertheim

I'm not sure if it's the writing or if the novelty of the Freakonomics approach has worn off, but I could not get into this book. I dutifully plowed through the first few chapters, but with an increasing reluctance to continue that saw me bail after about 100 pages. I have no specific complaints about the book, so I'm assuming I'm just sick of the approach. Maybe I'll give it a year and try again. Or maybe not.

Book Log 2011 #17: At Home by Bill Bryson

Bryson was inspired to write this history of domestic living by his house in England, a Victorian style former parsonage located in a part of the country where not much happens. While the actual history of the house does crop up, the bulk of the book is a history of each room, and what goes on there.

Of course, each of those little histories winds up leading well outside the walls, looking at everything from Victorian class structure to the spice trade to the Crystal Palace.

It's not as overtly humorous as his other works, and has more in common with A Short History of Nearly Everything than his travel-related titles. I mostly enjoyed it, but felt bogged down towards the end and didn't actually finish. I think I'd have liked to see it ten percent shorter and ten percent funnier.

Book Log 2011 #16: The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson

Fitting conclusion to the Millenium series, as things wrap up cleanly enough to make this feel like a trilogy rather than the ten book series that was planned. Which is a good thing, as the likelihood of a completed fourth book ever seeing the light of day is pretty slim (Larsson's partner has his material, while the rights to the book are held by his father and brother, and none of the parties seem interested in working something out).

Over a month since my last post? Whoops. Not dead, just pining for the fjords. More later.

Book Log 2011 #15: It Must Have Been Something I Ate by Jeffrey Steingarten

More witty and informative essays by the food critic from Vogue, with topics ranging from the merits of fancy salts to where to get the best baguettes in Paris. Many of the essays are over 10 years old, leading to some dating, but all told it's a solid collection. My only problem was that reading it cover to cover did lead to some author fatigue, as I can only take so much drollery at a time. Better to read in chunks, I think.

Book Log 2011 #14: Palace of Justice by Suzanne Alleyn

Depending on how you count it, this is either the second or most recent book featuring Parisian writer-turned-investigator Aristide Ravel. This time, Ravel is faced with what appears to be a serial killer who decapitates his victims, a grim parallel to the people, from Louis XVI on down, who are being guillotined by the Tribunal. Political turmoil and Ravel's own past come into play as well, giving added depth to the story.

While I did read the books out of their narrative order, it was kind of cool to see how the events here fit into the overall story (and would have been more entertaining if I'd read the books closer together). Enjoyed it quite a bit.

Book Log 2011 #13: West and East by Harry Turtledove

The second book in The War That Came Early, a series based on the idea that World War II would have started earlier had Neville Chamberlain not appeased Hitler. I've read that the series will be at least six books, and it kind of feels that was from this one, as there are things that happen, a couple things even notable, but nothing momentous. It did keep my interest enough to want to continue with the series, which is a good thing.

Book Log 2011 #12: Hubert's Freaks by Gregory Gibson

A rare book dealer and collector of ephemera named Bob Langmuir, after buying a storage locker full of items from a Manhattan freak show, discovers that the lot may include several Diane Arbus prints. Battling a troubled personal life (including at least one hospitalization), Langmuir finds himself caught in a very deliberate - and sometimes unusual - authentication process.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

There's some similarities in the stories of Langmuir and Arbus - both were troubled, attracted to sideshow types, and had some resistance with getting photos accepted by the wider art world - and it's interesting to see how Langmuir persevered while Arbus, eventually, did not.

This did remind me of The Man Who Loved Books Too Much a bit, and I have the same general feeling about this book as that one, though I think the ending here is stronger. Worth a look, if just to see the pictures.