James Latimore considers the problem of good results or good reports in the context of his study of one small agency's transition from financial independence to government funding dependence. As Latimore points out, private philanthropy has played a large role in America's social and economic history. In recent years, government funding has flowed into private agencies. What happens when private and public overlap? Does public funding change the direction of an agency? Does it become less client centered and more program oriented? How is this change manifested? What specific changes occur in the heretofore private philanthropy? Latimore's study shows that the strengths of philanthropic intervention may be negated by the bureaucratic accountability that accompanies public funding. Latimore suggests that accountability alters the thrust and management of programs in order to show good results.

BookWoman is about Rosemary Latimore, a woman who loved books, and had a bookstore in Charlotte, North Carolina. Once upon a time there was a Poplar Street Books. Perhaps it was more than a bookstore. A salon? That's what the writer Dannye Romine called it. And for good reason. Rosemary knew how to reach people, especially writers and artists, and knew how to make them feel inspired. Singing a song beyond us, the poet Chuck Sullivan said later. Rosemary and her Poplar Street Books came along at the right time in Charlotte, just when the city was growing like a teenager and was looking for its identity. And in the right place, too--a historic house in the old Fourth Ward, a house once occupied by a family related to Stonewall Jackson. But the book is also about what it was like losing her. We hear much about a war on cancer. This is more like the war cancer wages on us. And surviving that war. But in the end, it's not really about war. More about coming to terms with the universe through the kindness of grief. At first there was a searing of flesh and crushing of bone in the aftermath of death, and witnessing the little spirit linger for a while, then become one with a universal spirit of some kind. At least, that's the way it seemed. I didn't grasp the nature of love until I had nothing to grasp. After making inquiries into the nature of love, and working backwards from the grief I was feeling, I could see that love is an addiction. The release of chemicals like oxytocin and dopamine are the same as you get from using cocaine. When deprived of it, you're in withdrawal, an addict in need of a fix. Certain books are good for grief. Proust, for example. There's a lot of Proust here. Ifyou've read Remembrance of Things Past, you'll see why, and want to throw your arms around your own Albertine, so strong will be your affection for her and her mysterious ways.