And that someone as visibly, pronouncedly Jewish should forever share her moment with Hepburn, celluloid’ s ultimate WASP exemplar, makes that announcement even more of a milestone. So who should know better to chronicle Streisand in Hello, Gorgeous: Becoming Barbra Streisand than author William J. Mann, who has previously penned the insightful biography Kate: The Woman Who Was Hepburn?

While the title cribs from Streisand’s signature, first line in Funny Girl, the movie that nabbed her her first Oscar, Mann never gets to that point. Instead, he focuses on a smaller window of her life, from 1960 to 1964, as the ambitious performer first made it out of the Brooklyn house dominated by her tough mother, Diana Kind, and began her launch into the stratosphere. He homes in on the gray areas usually bypassed in James Lipton’s useless Inside the Actor’s Studio filmographies. And so Gorgeous becomes a simultaneous dissection of a woman, a star, a talent and an industry all at once.

Meticulously researched and told with a cunning sense of acuity, Gorgeous provides enough personal details to whet the appetite without veering into overly salacious territory. Mann recounts Streisand’s family background – the father she lost before her second birthday, her mother’s remarriage and the rancorous relationship between the two women. He provides new accounts of her early sexual fumblings and the start of her relationship with first husband Elliott Gould, his subsequent drug use and her eventual straying. And if he gives short shrift to her early recording successes and Emmy and Grammy wins, his detailed account of ascent to Broadway stardom in I Can Get It For You Wholesale and then attachment to the Fanny Brice story in Girl remain a testament to a day when stardom still required both pluck and talent.

Most important of all, however, was how Streisand wore her ethnicity on her sleeve. Her refusal to alter her nose or name and her penchant for over-enunciating were both a shtick and a calling card. Mann dwells on how she forced people to look at her as is, which was a gamble, equal parts brave and stupid. While other Jewish actresses had become familiar to audiences (including Judy Holliday), most were relegated to character actress status. Streisand would blast past all of them. Through a series of interviews with such subjects as Kaye Ballard and Lainie Kazan, Mann carves a very human portrait.  He details the nerves and insecurities that came her way as a performer, even as the encomiums did as well. He acknowledges that she was never known to say “thank you,” but also highlights the rare instances when she did.

Gorgeous was not authorized by its subject, but nor was Mann’s access to information blocked in any way. It differs from other treatises on the woman who would sing “I’m the Greatest Star” in that instead of charting the course of her life and career – divorce, diva reputation, refusal to perform live – it focuses on the mechanics of the roller coaster that would lead to all the ups and downs. And this tome, at more than 500 pages, is quite the well-oiled machine. It’s a must for those who know nothing about La Streisand as well as for those who think they already know it all.

For more information about Hello, Gorgeous, go to williamjmann.com.

Comedian Lee Camp has finally released a book version of Moment of Clarity, his clever web series of political rants. Published in both paperback and e-book formats, Clarity anthologizes 90 of the smart humorists best position pieces and adds in twenty never-before-seen photos of Occupy protests. As the book demonstrates, smart humor is quite possible, as Camp emerges as a Gen-Y Lewis Camp.

Camp is an informed liberal with no qualms about calling people out on their hypocrisy, laziness, or general small-mindedness. Topics in his F-word-riddled book include witty ruminations on everything from the truth about American history (“When kids get lied to, they grow up to be first-rate douche-tards. It’s a proven fact”) to lab-grown meat (“the only reason you can say you prefer cow meat over lab-grown meat is if you insist you prefer your beef taco has the slight taste of memories”) to a slanted take on Wikileaks (“I knew it was the most wonderful invention since Oprah created a sexual preference that’s neither gay nor straight”).

While sarcasm is usually a tool for more insecure people to use in conversation, Camp wields his like a weapon. Using a distinct voice that combines current low-brow conversational slang with erudite wisdom and research, Camp cuts through behavioral BS. Witness his take on death row inmate Troy Davis, arrested at the age of twenty for killing a police officer, who remains there even though seven of nine witnesses have since recanted their statements in the ensuing two decades. On top of that, one of the two remaining witnesses is actually considered by many to be the true culprit. The comedian-writer mocks zealous Georgia governor Nathan Deal while also exhorting the public to wise up to gross miscarriages of justice, both legal and social, over their more mundane concerns (Davis was ultimately, and controversially, put to death in September 2011).

Camp’s voice finds a firm middle ground between angry humor and urgent seriousness, making both sides of the spectrum accessible. And his range of interest is certainly versatile, running the gamut from Justin Bieber to reinstating the draft. In short, he’s a humane observer, keen on opening up everyone else’s eyes. There is a great deal of thought put into his work.

For those who are also interested in viewing the man in action, Clarity provides YouTube links atop every essay so readers can check out the corresponding video clips of Camp’s smart tirades. This is more than just an extra step of self-promotion. Camp is vitally interested in forging a real connection with the audience he so fervently exhorts to action. One of the most salient points this ribald, attention-worthy comedian makes is that we’re all in this together.

Check out more information at www.leecamp.net.