Big Books and Bold Ideas is celebrating our country’s history and culture with a monthlong series of special conversations.

Friday is the story of America’s very first All-Star game and the way it intersected with some extraordinary history in "The First All-Star Game."

Next week, as baseball’s best players take the field in Philadelphia for the 2026 Midummer Classic, they’ll be carrying the legacy of players who did it first on July 6, 1933.

Writer Randall Sullivan says in his new book, “The sport was suffering the same decline that afflicted other American industries and a majority of teams were operating at a deficit.”

Then, out of desperation, an idea was born.  What if the game’s greatest players were brought together for one legendary midsummer night?

I have been building a Lego set of the Orca, the ship immortalized by three men’s fight against a giant shark in Steven Spielberg’s "Jaws." The movie is an iconic story about one town’s fight against an apex predator that found the perfect feeding grounds for human flesh. I enjoyed it as a kid and didn’t know much about "Jaws" beyond that story.

But last weekend, while driving to the Twin Cities for the Fourth of July, I listened to Peter Benchley’s "Jaws," the novel on which the movie is based. I couldn’t believe how tightly my hands gripped the steering wheel as I listened to a story about a sheriff facing forces beyond his control and a town willing to sweep its darkest secret under the rug just to protect its livelihood.

However, before I talk more about this book, some things need to be addressed. The novel is littered with racist, homophobic and deeply misogynistic writing that frankly ruins what would otherwise be a great story. It is easy to say the book reflects the attitudes of the time, but the inclusion of such language is not only disturbing but also really drags down the story by making the characters so unlikeable. I will share things I loved about the book, but its wrongs must be acknowledged.

"Jaws" is as much about being afraid of a shark as it is about being afraid of a town that would rather risk its citizens' lives for money. It’s an anxiety that can surface every now and then, when headlines run of companies accused of fraud or endangering their customers for money. Cases like Bernie Madoff’s firm or Elizabeth Holmes' Theranos come to mind. In each case, the heroes are whistleblowers who, against immense pressure, decide to do the right thing.

Brody, the sheriff of Amity, an island community, is pressured by his friends, the mayor and the public to keep the beaches open. Tourism, after all, is the town’s lifeblood and closing the beaches would all but end the town’s business. But keeping the beaches open means people can be killed by the sharks roaming the coasts. Brody knows that and is beyond frustrated that no one seems to care. His struggle captivated me.

The shark represented the town’s corruption as much as the town’s corruption represented the shark. Maybe Brody is helpless against the town’s forces, but at least he can fight back against the fish. His journey is deeply cathartic and kept me at the edge of my seat while keeping me invested in his iconic counterparts, Matt Hooper, the nerdy ichthyologist, and Quint, the no-nonsense fisherman.

The book is an adventure. One that I held my breath through during my drive to and from the Twin Cities. My favorite memory was listening to the three protagonists venture into deep waters on their flimsy boat as rain pounded my windshield. It’s a rare book that manages to make you escape in ways novels rarely do. I just wish it didn’t have all the hateful language staining the story.