Writing on his own [in "I'm a Lucky Guy"], Mr. Gilbreth is rather more restrained and less exuberant than the collaboration….

Mr. Gilbreth's solo flight opens with his departure for the University of Michigan, and though he is at pains to explain that his narrative "is not primarily a chronicle of my college days," some 38 per cent of his text is just that….

His Navy experiences cover only fifty-odd pages, but they are the best part of the story….

In the course of these eighteen years the author woos and wins a wife, and some of the attendant confusion suggests the hilarity of "Cheaper by the Dozen." But in the main the narrative is straightforward self-history, most of it agreeably matter-of-fact, and none of it tremendously exciting.

What heartiness and zest emerge is largely in the salt-water experiences. Mr. Gilbreth obviously had a good time in the Navy, or at least he has a good time remembering it, and he lets the reader share his enjoyment. He should have had more to say about it.

[Jumping Jupiter] is a glimpse of the merchandising world broad in its humor, but sharp in its revelations of store politics, jealousies and double-crossing. Having been through the mill, the author has no illusions—and leaves her readers with scarcely any.