I'm having many mixed feelings about this book. So I'm rating it 3 and a half starts, and I might round it up to 4.
Johanna Morrigan is a teenager growI'm having many mixed feelings about this book. So I'm rating it 3 and a half starts, and I might round it up to 4.
Johanna Morrigan is a teenager growing up in the 90's, in a shitty little town in the north of England. Her dad is a failed musician who lives off an old disability pension, her mom is going through post-partum depression and her siblings are running wild. She is awkward, bookish, chubby and completely obsessed with sex - or at least the idea of it. Tired of what she perceives as a mediocre existence, she creates an alter ego for herself: Dolly Wilde! Dolly wears a lot of eyeliner and a top hat, smokes rollies and drinks like a fish. She somehow gets a job as a music critic and off she goes on the road towards adulthood, by way of the world of indie rock.
I understood Johanna much more than I had anticipated: I also grew up in a weird, very messy household with parents who were not always the adults of the house. I also figured out who I was by trial and error, by surviving many moments of excruciating awkwardness and humiliation, observing and emulating the people I thought were cool only to realize that they sucked, faking it until I made it - despite being almost perpetually confused as to what the fuck was going on. Instead of going the music critic route, I ended up in a band. And I didn't have a top hat: I had a bowler hat.
But despite Moran writing a hilarious, very potty-mouthed coming of age story that felt quite familiar, I had a hard time connecting to her writing. I can't quite put my finger on what it was: there's so much good advice in this book for girls trying to figure out what kind of woman they want to be - and most importantly that they have to do things for themselves, and not to please other people. But somehow I felt that there was something lacking. Perhaps because a lot of what goes on in this book was also discussed by Moran in her non-fiction book "How to Be a Woman" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), in a more organized way? Something just didn't click as much as I wanted it to, hence the rating.
Nevertheless, this is a fun, relatable story about coming of age in the late 90's. For fans of all the weird shoe gaze rock that reminds them of high school and who aren't fazed by excessive use of the C-word....more
OK, I'm clearly in the minority with regards to my feelings about this book, because everyone else apparently loved it... While I completely agree thaOK, I'm clearly in the minority with regards to my feelings about this book, because everyone else apparently loved it... While I completely agree that the prose is very good, to the point of occasionally mesmerizing, everything else about this short novel irked me.
A nameless nineteen year old girl lives in a crappy suburb in Colorado; she works an unchallenging retail job, steals booze and meds from her depressed and possibly addicted mother and tries to have sex with her boss at every opportunity she has. She meets a young couple, Matt and Frances, and becomes entangled in a weird sort of ménage à trois with them. But since every part of this triangle is selfish and fucked up, things slide into bizarre drama and disaster rather quickly.
There is so much self-loathing (albeit often unconscious) and self-destructive behavior in this book, and I have to say that this is quite realistic about being 19 and confused and fucked up and feeling stuck. It is a sad truth that being sexually desired is often the only form of validation certain girls get, and when you internalize such an unhealthy idea, it becomes as addictive as a drug, and this is clearly what is going on with the nameless narrator: if no one wants her, she feels like she doesn't exist. If this is even just a little bit autobiographical on Nash's part, it is pretty ballsy to put it out there like this, but I unfortunately failed to be moved or gripped by it.
Every single character in this book is awful, and I assume that was part of Nash's point (though I'm still not sure what that point is); I am not someone who needs to like characters to enjoy a book, so in theory, this shouldn't have bothered me. Except that the people she wrote are not simply awful, they are also mediocre, immature and uninteresting. They reminded me of some of the people I knew growing up in a shitty suburb full of mediocre, immature and uninteresting people, and also reminded me why I moved away as fast and as far as was humanly possible.
Well written yet unpleasant. This was just the wrong book for me; maybe I'm getting too old and grumpy to tolerate teenage melancholia... 2 and a half stars, rounded up because of the quality of the prose....more
If you are anything like me, you first heard about this book because you've watched more "Parks and Rec" than is strictly reasonable, and Ron Swanson If you are anything like me, you first heard about this book because you've watched more "Parks and Rec" than is strictly reasonable, and Ron Swanson has made you laugh and cringe. While I don't always agree with the cantankerous character, he is nevertheless my favorite and I love Offerman's deadpan delivery. I was very curious to know what a guy who can pull off such a fantastic mustache would have to say about delicious living...
Now if you plan on reading this, my advice is: don't. Get the audiobook, read by Offerman. His voice, gravitas and occasional giggles make this memoir/manifesto/collection of hilarious and excellent advice an incredibly entertaining experience. I also think that his writing style might feel a bit ponderous on the page, as where read out loud, it is quite charming and fun. Also, easily offended ears beware: there's a lot of cussing, many discussions on the topic of oral sex and some very strong opinions about religion (A lot of reviewers seem to have gotten their panties in a twist about that aspect of the book: I didn't, but mostly because I actually agree with his thoughts on organized religion in general, and the weird fucked up version of Christianity too often encountered in certain regions of the US of A specifically. He was preaching to the choir with me - pun intended - but I can see how anyone attached to their fixed ideas on faith and the Church would get upset by his thoughts.).
I already liked Offerman, and listening to 10 odd hours of his thoughts made me like and respect him even more: the man is hilarious, smart, hard working, kind-hearted and a hopeless romantic. I loved hearing his stories about growing up in rural Illinois, learning his craft in college, and eventually in Chicago and LA, meeting his wife Megan Mullally - and of course, growing epic facial hair. He also takes care to make sure his listeners know that despite a common love of pork products and fine scotches, he is most definitely not Ron Swanson: he eats salads, for one thing, and does not punch socialists.
Offerman is quite opinionated, but also humble, more than willing to admit that a lot of luck was necessary for his life to unfold the way it did, and spends a lot of time expressing his gratitude to everyone who helped, supported and encouraged him. His love for art, his family, the various crafts he is passionate about and his darling wife really shines through (his "Rainbow Song"! My heart!). While his advice can occasionally feel a tad preachy, it comes form a reasonable and well-meaning place; it's just loaded with smart-assery and sarcasm, which I appreciate tremendously.
I had a lot of fun listening to this! 4 and a half stars....more
This is a more serious book than the cover or author could lead one to believe: I think Ansari is hilarious, and I was pleasantly surprised by the bleThis is a more serious book than the cover or author could lead one to believe: I think Ansari is hilarious, and I was pleasantly surprised by the blend of humor and social sciences to be found in this often funny, but sometimes painful, look at modern dating culture. As a student of history, I was well aware that the very idea of romance is fairly modern, marriages having basically been business transactions for thousands of years. But post-Industrial Revolution Western society quickly became pretty obsessed with romance, the idea of true love, the idealization of the nuclear family (though it wasn’t called that at the time) and all that stuff. I have always been skeptical of those ideas, as any properly embittered child of divorce/dysfunctional family would be, I guess.
I grabbed a copy of this book at the used bookstore after Joe’s enthusiastic review, mostly because I was really curious to see if my experience was in any way, shape or form “normal”. I have often wondered what it must have been like dating before all these digital means of communications I take for granted.
Reviewing this book seems to beg for an executive summary of one’s experience with dating in the digital age, so here goes (I put it in spoiler tags in case you just want my review, and not my overshare)!
(view spoiler)[ As of the writing of this review, I am 34 and have been happily married for almost 3 years. Like a lot of people of my “generation” (I believe I am what is known as an “elder millennial”), I met my husband on an online dating site. He isn’t the first guy I’ve met that way: two relationships I had prior to Jason were also the results of OkCupid dates. I had decided to investigate that option for meeting people because my social circle offered no interesting options (despite the best efforts of some), and I was horrified by the idea of dating someone I would have met at work. I had been told by a few (older) colleagues to simply do out and do things I liked and that I would inevitably meet someone doing those things… Well, I like reading, cooking and going to punk shows; the first two are solitary activities and the third is usually in a setting when you can’t hear yourself think, let alone hear what someone else is saying. So I created an OkCupid profile (not Tinder, because after seeing “The Social Network”, the swiping thing reminded me too much of Zuckerberg’s early experiments with websites that rated women based on their looks - the thought of which makes me ill).
And let’s be honest here: I hated online dating. It was a frustrating and often psychologically rattling process; but it was still better than meeting someone at a bar or other random place because I could actually screen for basic mutual interests and dig a little bit deeper than simple physical attraction (which, while admittedly important, is not enough for me; I need intellectual stimulation!). It also made for a few very entertaining stories about how painful it is to meet new people when you are a mostly introverted person who has a weird tendency to speak your mind and doesn’t really care what people think.
Here is a list of things I learned/experienced on various OkCupid email exchanges and dates – most of which are touched upon in the book:
-Being ghosted by someone because they found a random detail on your profile that is an arbitrary deal-breaker for them is a frequent and always puzzling occurrence. You’ll never know what the problem was, which will only make you feel insecure because now everything is potentially wrong with you. Hurray.
-The "hey" message, with zero effort, context or content. I'd actually made a point to write in my profile that I ignored such messages, but got a ton of them anyway. Go figure.
-Telling someone you had a great time on the second date apparently means you are clingy, and hinting you’d like to get to know someone you enjoy spending time with is a huge demand to impose on that person; unless they are instantly smitten, it’s not worth their time. Play hard to get all the time! Sigh.
-Being asked by random guys (whom, to put it mildly, aren’t models) how much you weigh before they commit to meeting you for a cup of coffee is a real thing (they are afraid of being disappointed when they meet you face to face, you see), but don’t you dare ask them about the size of their junk in retaliation, because they’ll take that very badly! What if I am afraid to be disappointed when I take off their pants? Double-sigh for double standards.
-Being open about your sexuality means you want unsolicited dick pics and creepy messages; not wanting to talk about sex means you are boring and a hypocrite. Yup, this is also still a thing. Or at least it was in 2014.
-If the person you met is not 1000% perfect after a couple of dates, it’s perfectly ok to hump and dump because hook up culture exists and sex is meaningless (wait, what?!), and something better will come along if you just click a few more times… Human beings are now disposable goods, and being unreasonably picky is excused by the fact that the next date is just a swipe away. Besides, you went on that date, so you knew it was assumed there would be “road-test” sex, right? Urgh…
-Speaking of dumping, I have been dumped by means of text message, email, Facebook and ghosting. Because that’s easier than saying to someone’s face you don’t want to be with them anymore, I suppose (though one break up message I once got contained such nasty and hurtful things that it's probably better he didn't say that to my face, I would have hit him with a chair). People are terrified of that conversation, and somehow think that not “technically” having it absolves them from being the “bad guy”. As if breaking up with someone in such a shitty and impersonal way made you a good guy…
-I once sent a guy a message telling him I liked the Black Flag t-shirt he wore on his profile pic. And that’s all I meant. “Hey man, nice t-shirt! Black Flag rules!” He replied thanks and deleted his profile: to this day, I am convinced he was afraid I’d steal the t-shirt if we ever met.
I was really, really getting sick of all that when I met Jason: ironically, I had just told a friend “I think I’ll have to marry the next one, cuz I can’t deal with this shit anymore!”. Ha! We went for a beer at a pub, talked about music we both loved (someone else who worshiped Henry Rollins and who knew who Maynard James Keenan was; I was impressed!) and books, and agreed to meet for a second date, which consisted of a walk around the city to see a series of artsy light-show installations followed by a drink. For the third date, I made us dinner at my place and we watched “Goon” and laughed at all the crass hockey jokes. We kissed on the fourth date (so old-fashioned of us, I know!) and got married about a year and a half later (it was a tiny, super casual wedding because we both hate weddings… and being the center of attention… and having our picture taken…). There have been ups and downs, because of life being weird and complicated (and because we have different citizenships and bureaucracy is batshit insane), but at the risk of sounding like a sap, he’s the best thing ever, and I can’t imagine life without him around. No matter what is going on, knowing I’ll go to sleep next to him makes everything better and manageable.
Jason and I have often reflected about the fact that we both feel we “won” at online dating; and by “winning”, we both mean never having to fucking do it again (he also had interesting, albeit less traumatizing, experiences with the process). The odds of us meeting without the damn thing were next to nil, so we are grateful OkCupid was there when we needed it. But holy cow, did it ever suck sometimes… (hide spoiler)]
Back to the book. One of my favorite things about it was that after many a marathon of "Parks and Rec", I could hear Ansari's hysterical nasal voice in my head as I read, and his hilarious phrasing often made me snort in my teacup. Writing entertaining non-fiction is not easy, and he nailed it. It also makes the book extremely readable: I breezed through it in just a couple of days.
I completely agree with Ansari’s thoughts about how texting and other such messaging systems de-humanize some communications, in the sense that they facilitate rudeness and flakiness in a way that voice-on-voice interaction never could. Casual rudeness in emails and text messages is one of my biggest pet peeves, and was often a deal-breaker when it came to messaging potential dates: you can’t be bothered to say “hi, how are you” huh? Deleted. I actually wish I could block co-workers who can’t be bothered to be polite by emails as easily as I did with blokes on OkCupid, but alas... In the context of dating, I always tried to meet people face to face quickly, because let's face it, you are not the same person in written form that you are when you have to actually speak to someone standing in front of you: my reasoning was if I was going to date someone, chance are we'd spend a lot of time hanging out, so it was better to find out quickly how they were in person vs. on messenger. It was interesting to see that online dating expert think people should keep messaging to a minimum and meet up in real life asap. I also completely agree that Women's Liberation was a game-changer when it came to dating and marriage, because that's when the rules of the game (for lack of a better phrasing) really changed: no longer needing marriage to leave the parental home meant women could wait and experience the world in unprecedented ways before settling down.
I was very interested in the chapters about how the online dating experience differs between men and women: I mean, I knew it was basically night and day, but it was nice to explore the hows and whys people's behaviors and responses. The process takes its toll on both genders, but for wildly different reasons. I also find it really interesting that paradoxically, having more options makes things more difficult and less satisfying for people looking for love; it probably doesn't help that there is a trend towards a tendency to compare people we meet with an imaginary ideal partner no one can live up to... Especially when people don't want to invest any time in getting to know other people.
The obsession with “soul mates”, “true love that lasts for ever” and all that stuff is definitely a bi-product of a ton of pop-culture (rom-coms, Disney and radio-friendly adult rock… barf!), but it’s also a reaction to seeing parents and grandparents endure less than perfect marriages with clenched jaws and thinking to ourselves “I will never be in a relationship like that”. It’s an understandable reaction, especially given the fact that getting married was often the only way to respectably leave the parental home for previous generations, but it overshadows the fact that any emotional bond between human beings changes and evolves with time – and keeping a long-term romantic relationship healthy and interesting requires effort, patience and compromise from both partners. What I learned dating in my twenties was that people are, well, kind of lazy!
Now the book is fairly superficial: it doesn’t dig very deep into any of the issues it discusses. For instance, I was already well aware that we live in a society that’s all about instant gratification and that most people now see their relationships with other humans in that light: I would have liked to know how we got here! It also very specifically targets heterosexual singles who are mostly middle class, and it's relatively male-centrist, but I expected that - I would have appreciated more women-specific data. The chapters on how people date in other cultures was also interesting, but I was disappointed that his exploration of French culture was focused pretty much exclusively on cheating; it felt a little one-sided. That being said, I think he is right in concluding that while dating now might be harder in many ways than it was for say, our grandparents, chances of meeting someone who is a better match are higher than it was for them. That is, if we are not total bozos when it comes to sexting...
A fun and surprisingly informative read with a lot of thought-provoking points. Anyone who has experienced online dating would find this interesting. 3 and a half, rounded up....more
I must begin this review by saying that I don’t read a lot of poetry and am far from an expert on the subject. I had seen Stephanie Wytovich’s name inI must begin this review by saying that I don’t read a lot of poetry and am far from an expert on the subject. I had seen Stephanie Wytovich’s name in a few horror anthologies, and I was intrigued by the concept of this book. A collection of erotic horror poems? I’m not sure what that is, but I know I want to read it!
I flipped through the pages of “Brothel” slowly, taking my time with each poem – which go from free-form verse and prose poetry to more traditional rhyming verses. Now I may not know good poetry, but I know good writing, and Miss Wytovich can write! Granted, this is quite unlike anything I’ve ever read before, and while some pieces stand out as extraordinary (“I Cover The Wall’s Mouth”, "Joint Custody", “Juice”, "Lewd Behavior", "Nobody's Whore", and “The Shed” are particular favorites), even the less mind-blowing pieces are still carefully crafted to be both sensual and grotesque. While I wished the whole collection had the caliber of my aforementioned favorites, there still wasn’t a bad piece of writing anywhere in the book: even the shortest and most perfunctory page still made me smile... or wince.
An interesting element I noted as I was reading was that as explicit as they can get, the pieces in this collection never feel exploitative. There is a strong feeling of sex as power, and the characters’ whose voices we hear are never victims. This gives the collection a tone of strong and honest femininity - never cheap. The sex in this book is about pleasure, pain, love, addiction, abuse, revenge, loneliness, sorrow: it's often painfully human and raw, and I was quite awed by Wytovich's ability to put such things into cheeky and ominous words.
If you enjoy dark, beautiful and sharp writing – in every possible definition of that word, this is quite worth getting out of your comfort zone for. I will be looking for more work by Wytovich soon....more
I loved the idea of a kid who only dreams of making the world's best sushi, but who's father expects him to take up the life of crime that has been the family business for all these years. However, the very bloody Yakuza drama strikes a much darker tone than the first volume; a lot of the tongue-in-cheek humor has been replaced by a few old-school mafia tropes: psychopathic brother, sweet and mostly passive girlfriend, her hopelessly dumb and big-mouthed roommate... I suppose "Get Jiro!" had set the bar pretty high: I preferred the artwork and the kooky story. This prequel is a bit predictable, and could have been fleshed out a bit more.
I think the real difference between volume one and this prequel is that "Get Jiro!" was really about food and food culture: you could see Bourdain's love for the good stuff shine through, his irreverent humor was all over the story, as where food is hardly mentioned at all in "Blood and sushi". We see Jiro at work, and his half-Italian girlfriend makes him sample some Italian food, but that's pretty much it. I didn't feel Bourdain's touch in this one - not as much as in volume one.
Still fun, just not quite as fun as the first book....more
In a near-future, vaguely dystopian Los Angeles, food culture is everything: chefs are the new rock stars, getting a reservation at a hip restaurant iIn a near-future, vaguely dystopian Los Angeles, food culture is everything: chefs are the new rock stars, getting a reservation at a hip restaurant is like winning the lottery. Two cooking "families" have replaced the mob: the more traditional haute-cuisine guys vs. the slow food flexitarians... Somewhere on the outside of this scene is Jiro, a sushi chef with a tiny restaurant but a huge reputation. Jiro takes his work extremely seriously, and if you are dumb enough to mishandle your chopsticks or drop rice into the soy sauce, he won't take it very kindly. He inadvertently brings the attention of the two food factions on himself when he dispatches a crass customer who turns out to have been an important supplier, and both the traditionalists and the hippies will go to great lengths to try get him to join their side of the culinary war.
For an insatiable Bourdain fangirl like myself, this was just pure fun: I'm sure chopping up customers (who got sushi etiquette wrong) or line cooks (who wanted to garnish their veal blanquette) into little pieces is something Bourdain actually fantasized about. And obviously, the all-organic-all-local-hippies are not depicted in a very flattering light (their leader Rose is a painfully obvious caricature of Alice Waters)... While there is violence and bloodshed galore in those pages, the story is fun and engaging (with a not-so-subtle criticism of the food industry's most damaging practices and nod at the small independent restaurateurs struggling to stay alive in that cut-throat world), and the artwork is stunning. You can also see Bourdain's love of food and cooking shine through, in the way characters talk about their boudain noir and enjoy foie gras. But really, he is just having fun here, writing about things he loved: organized crime stories and sushi.
“I’ve even come to believe that the world itself, by its very nature, is unendurable. It’s only our responses to this fact thaOctober Spooky Read #1!
“I’ve even come to believe that the world itself, by its very nature, is unendurable. It’s only our responses to this fact that deviate: mine being predominantly a response of passive terror approaching absolute panic; yours being predominantly a response of gruesome obsession that you fear you might act upon.”
Thomas Ligotti is one of those authors I kept meaning to read, as his reputation as a writer of wonderfully creepy stories is impossible to ignore: it is no small thing to call someone the heir to Lovecraft, and “the horror writer other horror writers wished they were”. But I was also told that his work wasn’t for everyone… A quick research showed that Mr. Ligotti is not just considered a living literary legend: he is also a man who embraces philosophical pessimism (see quote above), is vocally anti-natalist (i.e. he thinks it is unethical to have children) and basically embodies every stereotype of the nihilistic, reclusive and humanity-hating writer ever conceived. My kind of guy (I jest! Sort of…). My lovely husband clearly also thought I’d be into this sort of stuff, because he got me a copy of “Teatro Grottesco” for my birthday, and I was very excited to start my October readings with this little collection of unsettling and disturbing tales!
There is a pessimism and hopelessness in Ligotti’s writing, which I had been warned about, so I knew what to expect. Weird fiction, from the very beginning, has always included strong elements of nihilism, after all. But there is also an undeniable elegance to his prose, something graceful about the way he weaves a strange, frightening yarn around the reader. It often starts with small details that seem just a bit odd or out of place, characters with eccentricities that are just a bit too acute, and the next thing you know, you are in the middle of a bloodcurdling nightmare. I was afraid it would be overwritten and baroque, but the prose is clearly studied, without a superfluous sentence, or a word out of place.
Like most New Weird/horror short stories, you don’t get all your questions answered, nor do you get neat endings: you are simply left with this sentiment of unease, of wrongness – which is haunting and morbidly fascinating, if you are into that sort of thing. Those stories are not meant for your rational brain to dissect: it doesn’t matter if the creepy thing from “The Clown Puppet” was a hallucination, a projection of the protagonist’s mind and intent, or an actual murderous entity guided by unseen hands. What matters is the feeling of not knowing, which carries much more terrifying implications than a pedestrian explanation ever could.
What I love most about this style of short stories is the author’s refusal to let the readers see behind the curtain. And Ligotti clearly doesn’t think you deserve to see what’s behind the freaking curtain! In fact, his nihilism and disdain for the human condition is basically screaming at you from every page. I am actually amused by how dark his pessimism gets, especially when he conjures stories that could essentially be labelled as “office horror”: the empty senselessness of the daily grind of office drones or factory worker bees, invariably addicted to medication that makes their pointless lives bearable, turned into a vivid tale of crushing hopelessness. His scorn for artists, which is made quite transparent in the final section of the book, also entertained me greatly: I love art, but have limited patience of artistic posturing, a trait Ligotti eviscerates mercilessly in the last few stories of the collection.
“Teatro Grottesco” gets 4 stars because as good as it is, I didn’t enjoy it as viscerally as I have other writers who play in that genre. A touch of sensuality or playfulness would have made it perfect, but as it is, it's basically unrelentingly dark and bleak. I’ll probably try to get my hands on more of Ligotti’s work, but I’d recommend reading this in small doses, and only if you are interested in very cerebral and philosophical horror. And maybe don’t do like me and start your October Spooky Reads with this: it will set quite a standard for the rest of the pile!...more
Anthony Bourdain loved creepy stories, and he was very fond of Japanese culture, and “Hungry Ghosts” is his take on an old Edo-period Japanese parlor Anthony Bourdain loved creepy stories, and he was very fond of Japanese culture, and “Hungry Ghosts” is his take on an old Edo-period Japanese parlor game. In the original context, guests would gather at night to tell each other folk tales and ghost stories; in the adjoining room they would light one hundred candles and set a small mirror on a table. After each story, the story-teller would go to the candle room to blow out one flame and look into the mirror. The game was considered a test of courage, because the candle room would grow darker and darker as the candles were blown out, creating a creepy atmosphere some believed appropriate for the summoning of the various spirits the tales they were sharing were about. Bourdain’s spin on it is a little different: a Russian crime boss hosts a magnificent dinner, and after the meal is done, he invites the cooks to participate in this game of the hundred candles. The cooks will share scary stories, which are reimaginings of classic Japanese horror stories that all share the theme of food. Or at least, eating.
The stories he picked are not terribly frightening, at least not to me; but having read a few Zen folktales, I wasn’t surprised to find most of them contained more or less subtle moral lessons against behaviours like greed, breaking one’s promise, etc. But even if they didn’t spook me, I still enjoyed every story: the artwork is different for each, giving them all a unique style.
This was Bourdain’s last book project before he died, and this collected edition of the four issues is dedicated to his memory. I would not say it was his best work, but it has his unmistakable style all over it, and if you enjoyed “Get Jiro!” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), you will probably like a lot as well....more
Elma York is probably my favorite character that I encountered in my 2018 readings, first in the short story “The Lady Astronaut of Mars”(https://www.Elma York is probably my favorite character that I encountered in my 2018 readings, first in the short story “The Lady Astronaut of Mars”(https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), and then in "The Calculating Stars” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). I couldn’t let the year end without reading the conclusion of her story, though I anticipated it might be an emotional goodbye. Then I saw that Mary Robinette Kowal has TWO MORE NOVELS about Elma in the works and I squeaked loud enough to startle the cat. This is not goodbye after all!
“The Fated Sky” opens a few years after the end of “The Calculating Stars”: a small colony has been established on the Moon, and the first probe just touched down on Mars. Elma is stationed on the Moon, as a pilot, but she hasn’t changed and her ambition and desire for adventure make her crave more than what she sees as a glorified driver gig: she wants to go to Mars! And while the powers that be are not so hot on the idea of sending a woman to the Red Planet, they may not have a choice, as the mission requires careful mid-journey calculations – and their most talented computers are all women… But can Elma reconcile the prospect of this very dangerous mission with how much she misses her husband – and with their desire to start a family?
Obviously, if you have read the short story that started this series, you have an inkling of how this situation will unfold and evolve, but the novels expanded on that beautifully. Kowal does a wonderful job of crafting an alternate history of the United States that includes all the problems the country had to face and interweave her sci-fi vision through it: the first book explored sexism and racism through Elma’s eyes, and while we face those issues again in “The Fated Sky”, the world building solidifies as she brings issues specific to her universe, such as the Earth First movement. The way she explores the relations between Elma and her colleagues of different backgrounds I found to be done with realism and sensitivity. Her use of era-appropriate science also makes her story very immersive: her afterword contains lots of information about her sources, which was fascinating.
Her characters are well drawn, extraordinary but also realistically flawed: Elma wants to do right by everyone and is very upset by the injustices Leonard, Florence and Helen face, but her attempts at helping and supporting do not always have the desired results, and she struggles with her good intentions and their possible consequences. While this installment did not make me like Stetson Parker, I liked that we got to know his background a bit better – if only so we can understand his often less than exemplary behavior.
A very good sci-fi novel, very human and moving. I am so excited about a sequel next year! 4 and a half, rounded up....more
I knew I'd love Cicero long before I picked up this book. I knew I would because he was a guy who thought a house should be full of books, because he I knew I'd love Cicero long before I picked up this book. I knew I would because he was a guy who thought a house should be full of books, because he thought human beings were honor-bound to take care of each other and because his brain basically never stopped churning out interesting things! What I had not realized was that a lot of his writing (especially his work on ethics) is still very relevant today. It's something that never fails to astonish me with ancient philosophers; their timelessness. Cicero's writing is particularly fascinating because a lot of his surviving correspondence was not work he'd ever meant for publication, and it captures a remarkably tumultuous period of history with a lot of candor, and it is very revealing of his true personality, and not simply his public persona. I have always found that the major historical actors of Antiquity to have incredible, larger-than-life personalities and incredibly sharp deliveries: sure, maybe Caesar was making himself sound smarter than he was, and maybe Plutarch and Herodotus were adding attitude for the enjoyment of their readers, but you can believe Cicero's wit to have been one of the most brilliant of the era, as his scribe preserved a huge quantity of his writing, from the very public to the very private (the snippets we still have about how he grieved for his daughter simply gutted me).
This collection contains a speech against Verres (a corruption case Cicero worked on), a large section of commented correspondence, the second Philippic against Anthony (Cicero's call on the senate to move against Marc Antony and side with Octavian), and the essays "On Duties" and "On Old Age". While the introduction gives you a decent context, if you are brand new to Ancient Roman history, it's easy to get lost in the convoluted network of alliances and sometimes abrupt changes in allegiances everyone went through; maybe Plutarch's "Roman Lives" is a better place to start for absolute newbies, or Dan Carlin's excellent "Hardcore History" podcast (the episode "Death Throes of the Republic" is amazing: https://www.dancarlin.com/product/har...).
What I am constantly amazed with (often to the point where I am laughing out loud with delight) is the panache with which Cicero eviscerated (in writing; he was known as a physical coward) people he didn't like. There was no love lost between him and Mark Antony, obviously, but DAMN! This book is worth reading if only for the pleasure of finding out how many different ways Cicero can accuse Antony of being a disgusting lech. He was the greatest orator of his day, so his eloquence is not a surprise, just an absolute treat to read.
The chapter “On Duty” is a fascinating essay about the moral obligations Cicero believed every man ought to respect in order to live a good life. His humanist stance – that dishonesty is the highest moral crime and that no man should profit from another’s lost – can sound idealistic, but it echoes this book’s first chapter, where he railed against corruption. He felt very strongly that goodwill and care of one’s fellow man was key to keeping an equitable social order. I have to say, I know quite a few people in business and politics who could probably benefit from reading this…
The final section, “On Old Age”, was equally interesting: the fear of aging is obviously not new, and the Romans were as superficial as we are when it came to their physical appearances. It’s a rather optimistic text, that glosses over some of the inevitable physiological decay (Cicero wasn't interested in physical prowess, whether it was fighting capacities or sex, so he didn't think anyone would miss that too much...), but it's nevertheless full of advice that could still be followed today about one's attitude in regards to aging, and how to enjoy the stage of one's life more fully.
This is the sort of book I wish everyone would read at least once; I know that's not a realistic expectation, but that won't stop me from recommending it to everyone....more
Meant as a companion/coffee table book to Bourdain's show "No Reservations", the completist fangirl in me simply had to have a copy of this. I flippedMeant as a companion/coffee table book to Bourdain's show "No Reservations", the completist fangirl in me simply had to have a copy of this. I flipped through it lazily on a Saturday afternoon for a good dose of food and travel porn. The photos are candid shots of the first three seasons of "No Reservations", accompanied by commentaries in Bourdain's usual mix of wonderful sensitivity and belligerence. The book ends with practical traveling advice, from what to pack to how to find the really good local restaurants - with a handy list of his personal favorites.
As always with anything penned by my beloved Anthony, I'm amazed by his great cultural sensitivity: he never judges the people he encounters and the way they live, and expresses great respect and gratitude for everyone who has fed him or offered him any kind of hospitality and connected with him during his travels. He understood the importance of human connection and made that a crucial part of his work - while never neglecting to add a generous dose of self-deprecating humor to the story.
A particularly interesting chapter documents his and his crew's visit to Beirut literally on the eve of the Lebanon War breaking out. Their shoot was interrupted by the bombing of the airport, and the chapter details the long, terrifying and excruciating wait to find a way out of the country and back to safety.
Despite those chilling few pages, flipping through a book like that makes me want to shove my passport is in my wallet, pack a bag and cash in my pension plan to go travel. This lovely book gets 4 stars instead of 5 simply because I wish it was bigger. I wanted more: more pictures, more stories! Of course I realize that he bulk of the material is the show, but I just can't seem to get enough of Anthony, ever....more
A very interesting novella about time-travel and ecology! I got this one on sale for Kindle as a vacation read, and I had no idea what I was getting iA very interesting novella about time-travel and ecology! I got this one on sale for Kindle as a vacation read, and I had no idea what I was getting into.
Earth has suffered massive ecological disasters and humans are slowly re-building the ecosystems necessary for the planet’s survival. An older generation of humans, the “plague babies” grew up during the worse of the cataclysms, and some, like our protagonist, Minh, chose to get artificial limbs installed in order to navigate their complicated environment more effectively. The younger generation, known as “fat babies” because they are healthy, have always known the world as it is, and while they try to help, their perspective is completely different. Minh is given a contract to use time-travelling technology to go observe the Tiger and Euphrates rivers in ancient Mesopotamia, and to use what can be learned from that virtually untouched environment to fix the river systems in her time period’s North America. Now who could resist an offer like that? But as it must, things don’t go quite as planned…
The pacing is good, with an interweaving of Minh’s timeline narration and quick glimpses of the ancient world she is about to visit, and the world-building quite clever, revealing just enough to keep the reader engaged without drowning the pace with info-dumping. This is far from my first post-apocalyptic sci-fi story and yet I have never encountered a world quite like this one, and I wanted more! The open ending, however, is both interesting (because it opens so many possibilities) and frustrating because no sequel is planned! Bummer…
This is awkward because I am married and you are dead, but... I think I'm in love with you. I guess developing a posthumous crush is a t"Dear Anthony,
This is awkward because I am married and you are dead, but... I think I'm in love with you. I guess developing a posthumous crush is a tad creepy, but hey, no one ever called me normal. Besides, I know you wouldn't have given me the time of day: I eat too much vegetarian food for things to have ever worked out between us. But damn, man, you were truly one of a kind. I've been reading your books and watching old episodes of your shows on Netflix; it breaks my heart a little bit every time, because of the way you left us - but what a legacy you left behind! This book is clearly the ancestor of “The Layover” and “No Reservations”; I devoured every page and wished you'd written a much bigger book. Or a bunch of sequels.
This book gave me a glimpse of you that "Kitchen Confidential" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) simply didn't. This time, I got to know you, not just your job. You put your soul on those pages, which makes this book vastly superior to its predecessor. I found out here that you were actually a romantic (not something I would have guessed from the other book!), who watched a lot of amazing movies and then went off to find out what happened off-frame in "Apocalypse Now", "Dr. Zhivago", "Laurence of Arabia" and "The Quiet American". What a crazy, beautiful thing to do!
I must say, I am a bit jealous. You figured out a way to get paid to travel, eat your heart out and get drunk with the locals. Where do I get that job?! Even if the stuff you did for "A Cook's Tour" was grittier than "The Layover" and "No Reservations", it was still pretty damn epic. The way you describe how people live in mysterious places I have never had the chance to visit is so evocative and vivid: I learned some incredible things, and not just about their food! You truly had a way with words, and a gift for observing the world around you: you saw its beauty even in the seediest, most dangerous spots on the planet. You make me want to go there.
I mentioned the vegetarian thing being a potential obstacle to our ever-lasting love, but frankly, as much as I love my tofu, reading what you write about foie gras somehow makes me question all my lifestyle choices (though I am truly sorry you had to suffer that vegan potluck in San Francisco; these people clearly don’t respect the vegetables they eat, which is just sad). This book contains a few very frank passages about where the meat that's on people's plates comes from and I actually find that fascinating - if a bit repulsive. My thinking is that if you are going to eat the stuff, you do need to know where it comes from, and if that offends some readers, well... fuck 'em. They can read something else if they want: I personally loved your thoughts about the dietary habits of North Americans and why a lot of them are silly at best, and hypocritically privileged at worse.
I read your writing and it makes me want to pack a bag and just go to all the places I haven't been yet, to see how people live there, what they eat and if they'll be my friends. And don't worry about selling out to the Food Network: most of us are whores to a corporate overlord somewhere. You took their money and did exactly what you wanted with it, which is the best way of dealing with this. Your unflinching honesty and shamelessness has a disarming charm that makes me go completely gaga. Your appreciation for all the things (food, obviously, but people's hospitality, their traditions and their work) is so intense that it makes me feel like I've only lived half a life. Your fearlessness inspires me so much.
Goodbye, Anthony. I would have tramped all over the world with you."...more
"I have long believed that it is only right and appropriate that before one sleeps with someone, one should be able—if called upon to do so—to make th"I have long believed that it is only right and appropriate that before one sleeps with someone, one should be able—if called upon to do so—to make them a proper omelet in the morning. Surely that kind of civility and selflessness would be both good manners and good for the world. Perhaps omelet skills should be learned at the same time you learn to fuck. Perhaps there should be an unspoken agreement that in the event of loss of virginity, the more experienced of the partners should, afterward, make the other an omelet—passing along the skill at an important and presumably memorable moment."
Amen, my love.
"Medium Raw" is the best possible title Bourdain could have given this book : it was written by a much mellower man than the one who (I like to picture) furiously scribbled "Kitchen Confidential" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... a more mature person, who has taken a step back and did a decent amount of soul-searching. But because Anthony Bourdain is Anthony Bourdain, he serves his introspection like… well, not quite a slap in the face, but there’s no point in expecting subtlety or sugar-coating here.
While it is not quite a sequel, it’s definitely preferable to have read “Kitchen Confidential” before you get into “Medium Raw”, as Bourdain reflects back on who he was when that first book was published and how much things have changed (in his life and in the cooking world) since. You’ll lose a lot of context if you are not familiar with the first book, but to be honest, I like this one better. They should come as a set.
I was planning on keeping this as my bedside book, and to just read a few pages before bed for a few days, but that was underestimating how much I fucking love reading anything Bourdain wrote. Once I cracked it open, there was no stopping, or prying the book out of my hands. Reading Bourdain is an interesting experience for me because it makes me laugh, it makes me think about things may never have crossed my mind if it hadn’t been for his books, and I often find it very moving because he was not afraid to expose himself, flaws and all; I can’t help but find that combination incredibly sexy.
“Medium Raw” is a rant, a confession, a manifesto. It’s not always pretty, but it’s always passionate and unapologetic – which is absolutely beautiful. It starts with a surreal story about eating ortolans, then hops from topic to topic: hitting rock bottom on a Caribbean island, whoring out to the Food Network and dealing with it, why culinary school might be a huge mistake, a statement about why cooking is a life skill literally everyone should master, a rant about the God-given right to a hamburger that won't kill you, his own very particular brand of fatherhood, a laundry list of people in the food world he loves and of those he can't stand. Every subject is dissected with insight, wit and enthusiasm.
I thought I couldn’t fall in love with the man any harder after reading “A Cook’s Tour” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) and binging “Parts Unknown” on Netflix; I was wrong. His way with words, the wonderfully twisted workings of his mind, his way of looking at the world and never averting his eye: reading this book made me melt. Sure, he was a cantankerous, world-weary recovered junkie, but I also can’t think of another non-fiction writer who has the kindness and authenticity he put on the page. The rude, cranky thing feels to me like an armor to hide a romantic and idealistic nature that the fucked up world we live in disappointed repeatedly. I get it, and this magnificent crazy man will always have a piece of my heart.
If you like Bourdain's style, his shows or his other books, don't miss this one!
---
Call me a sap, but reading this made me much more emotional than I had anticipated. My brand spanking new copy is clearly fresh off the press because in the little “about the author” blurb on the flyleaf, the publisher added the heartbreaking (for me, at least) line: “He died in 2018”. I confess a moment of true anger at the publishing industry’s callous cashing in: let’s republish his entire body of work, now that he’s dead, the sales will skyrocket! And here I am feeding the vultures! Once I calmed down from this moment of anarchist rage, I was simply grateful for the amazing word porn I held in my hands. But a bit of sadness and anger remains mixed in...
---
Additional comment regarding the audiobook: my husband and I listened to it on the long drive between Rochester and Montréal, and it's amazing, as you could expect as it is read by Bourdain. That voice!...more
I should point out, for those who haven't read my previous reviews of Bourdain's work, that I am not an objective reader when it comes to him. So pleaI should point out, for those who haven't read my previous reviews of Bourdain's work, that I am not an objective reader when it comes to him. So please, take this with a grain of salt.
"The Nasty Bits" is a collection of essays and articles written at various time through Bourdain's career and arranged by taste: Salty, Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Umami. The logic behind that classification is to represent the tone of the essays in each section, and the idea that they should leave the reader with that impression of sourness, sweetness or whatever by the time they are done reading it.
I'm going to be very honest: the collection is a bit uneven. It's a patchwork of pieces written at wildly different times, for completely different publications, so there is no real continuity here; but the subtitle "Collected varietal cuts, usable trims, scraps and bones" is clear enough to know what you are getting into. My edition includes Bourdain's notes on each chapter at the end, which I really enjoyed, because they add a bit of perspective to the essays: a few final thoughts either to clarify or to make (not so) gentle fun of who he was when he penned those words. Those notes are just as well written and entertaining as the essays, so it's quite essential to read them together.
"Système D" about making things work in a kitchen no matter what is going on; "The Evil Doers" about shitty fast food and other garbage (un)edibles people happily shove in their faces; "My Manhattan" and "Sleaze Gone By", which are essentially love letters to all the things he loved about his neck of the woods; "Hard Core", an "unabashed blow job of an article" (his words, not mine) about Gabrielle Hamilton (gotta read her book now!), "A View From the Fridge" about why you should be a decent human being to restaurant workers; "A Drinking Problem", because the way he talks about Guinness turns me on a little, and that rant against gastro-pubs is hysterical even if I disagree with it; "Food Terrorists", a great piece about his actually very nuanced opinions of vegetarianism and animal rights; "The Hungry American" is a moving ode to Viet-Nam, and "The Old, Good Stuff" expresses sentiments for uber-traditional French cuisine that made every French atom in my body crave creamy Dijon chicken and napoleons (my French expat grandfather was a restaurateur who cooked exactly the kind of old school stuff Bourdain is talking about here, and I am unreasonably sentimental about garlic-butter escargots, blanquettes and croque-monsieurs in béchamelle, no matter how tacky that makes me).
"The Dive" was, given the way Bourdain died, a really tough few pages to read. It's basically the story of a self-pitying, heartbroken and inebriated man who gets goaded by a douchebag into doing something really fucking dumb and dangerous, and who goes with it because he's just drunk enough, and he just doesn't care enough about whether or not he comes out on the other side. I had to put the book down for a few minutes to fight tears.
The notorious "Woody Harrelson: Culinary Muse" was not as harsh as I had anticipated. It made me think of my first trip to France, when two of the girls I was travelling with were only interested in eating stuff they could eat back home. I wanted to slap them, so I sympathize with Bourdain's annoyance. The note about this piece in the appendix is where the (hilarious) venom actually is...
So 4 stars, because its not perfect, but its my Anthony - witty and acerbic, but also humble and insightful, and its damn good!...more
This installment of the Tensorate saga is paced very differently from the first one: “The Black Tides of Heaven” Treachery, monsters and magic. Oh my!
This installment of the Tensorate saga is paced very differently from the first one: “The Black Tides of Heaven” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) covered almost forty years in less than two-hundred pages and “The Red Threads of Fortune” takes place over a few days, which makes it feel a lot more focused (if a bit rushed: I wished both books had been longer). While the first book was more Akeha’s story, we now see the world through the eyes of his twin. And Mokoya’s world is not a happy place at the opening of this story: her gift of foresight has deserted her, her daughter is dead, she has left the confined of the monastery (and her husband) behind to go hunt nagas (big dragon-like creatures). On such a hunt, she meets the enigmatic Rider, who will help her and her fellow hunters to unravel a murderous plot.
This story is truly about grief, about the monster that such a thing can be, and about the human need to carry on even when it doesn’t feel like it makes sense. I enjoy the parallels between the Slack and Zen sutras, I feel like Yang approached the idea of undefined gender within their world-building with great skill, and I find said world beautiful and fascinating. But as mentioned, I wish both story-line and world-building had been fleshed out more: two hundred pages just doesn't seem like enough room to discuss Mokoya and Wanbeng's bereavement, the developing relationship with Rider and the struggle of the Machinists against the Tensorate. But the prose is so pretty, and the ideas so fresh that I am more than happy to gloss over that.
A great series of beautifully written silkpunk, set in a fantastic universe: I am very excited about the next two books!...more
There's nothing like coming home from a relaxing vacation to find a book you had been impatiently waiting for in your mailbox. Since "The Strings of MThere's nothing like coming home from a relaxing vacation to find a book you had been impatiently waiting for in your mailbox. Since "The Strings of Murder" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), I've been a huge Oscar de Muriel fan and I gleefully anticipate each new Frey and McGray adventure. I just can't resist a well-crafted, suspenseful and entertaining Gothic mystery.
This new investigation of my favorite detective duo since Holmes and Watson takes us to a very remote region of Scotland, the (alas, fictional) Loch Maree. At first, because of the Loch, I anticipated a plesiosaurus story, but what I ended up getting was even better - and creepier! Miss Fletcher comes begging for McGray’s aid in investigating the death threats against the son she gave away for adoption when she was sixteen, by promising him what he would do anything to find: a cure for his sister Pansy’s madness. Indeed, legend has it that on a small isle in the middle of Loch Maree, near Miss Fletcher’s employers’ mansion, is a spring of healing water that can cure anything. Such a proposition is impossible to refuse for McGray, and Ian Frey is unwillingly dragged to this isolated region, his visiting uncle Maurice in tow. When they get to the Koloman mansion, they meet the eccentric family that has unofficially ruled the region for years; they are very kind and welcoming, but something about them nags at the corner of Frey’s mind - and tragic events begin to unfold at an alarming rate...
Each new Frey and McGray novels strengthens the unlikely bond between the two inspectors, who are, as mentioned in a previous review, the Mulder and Scully of Victorian Scotland. And while convoluted, this is probably my favorite of the series so far (with the possible exception of the very first book). Their development, both as characters and as friends, goes further than in the other books, revealing new sides of their personalities. De Muriel writes beautifully, uses foreshadowing at exactly the right spots to keep me glued to the page and throws in strange and unnerving elements with perfect tempo. I honestly never saw the dénoument coming, my brain working to figure out what the hell was the deal with the deer skulls and the wine and the prisms and the bats: I finally stopped trying and just enjoyed the frenetic pace of the last fifty pages.
The epilogue of “The Loch of the Dead” concludes on a hook that will keep me impatiently waiting for the fifth Frey and McGray novel. Oscar, never stop writing these!...more
Loading...
