Eduardo Santiago

Skip it. Blasphemy, I know, but consider: Equal Rites and Mort, Sir Terry’s first decent books, are 1987 and 1988 respectively. The dreadful Color of Magic is 1983. These stories, with one exception, are 1970-1975! Publishing them is like grabbing Picasso’s third-grade sketches off his parents’ fridge. Sure, there are tiny recognizable glimmers of what is to come, but they’re stepping stones. None of this is actually good nor worth reading.

Four stars, rounding up to five purely for astonishment value. Each story is wildly different: absurd, wistful, powerful, thoughtful. There is decency and dignity and kindness. Pause after each one to savor it. And, most importantly: keep going. She saves some of her best work for last.

There is a lot packed into this short work. Not all of it worked for me, but the ninety percent that did, wow. And the rest, it's probably a failing in me: one gift-slash-curse of mediocrity is being able to recognize genius but only myopically, where you know it's there and if you squint you can almost make it out but you know there's much more to it.

Like, Sokal Hoax. Chapter 2 is obviously a riff on pompous postmodernist windbags, with lovely echoes throughout the rest of the book. Or is it? And Heller: I thought I saw hat tips to Catch-22 several times, particularly the absurdist exchange between de Kooning and Rauschenberg. But what am I really seeing? I can tell that's the central focusing point in the book, but I lack the ability to see it in its fullness.

Erasure is much more than satire. I'd say the main theme is loneliness, with Everett tackling it from an impressive number of perspectives. Loss, too, and racism, code switching, integrity (artistic and personal), and our human need to be seen. Plus much, much more.

I didn't mean to read it. I picked it up intending to skim, scan, browse. It didn't work out that way.

This book is amazing. Not only do the authors have an eerie sense for human factors, they can communicate their findings. Well organized, well written, almost even inspirational. It was moment after moment of “aha!”, recognizing so many examples of what I've seen in real life to work and not to work. The gift of genius is to explain something so well that it seems obvious in hindsight; the authors accomplish that.

I think this has the potential to be a life-changing book. I wish I'd read it twenty years ago.

If you had told 20-year-old-me that a book on social gatherings was in my future, I would've raised a skeptical eyebrow; if you'd told me that 55-year-old me would already know and practice much of that advice, I might've laughed nervously while backing away slowly, looking for nearby assistance. How little we know of who we are to become.

This is a lovely book, entirely human-centered. Parker focuses entirely on connection and meaning: she eschews the shallow bullshit of which-paper-stock and what-font engraved invitations, concentrating purely on planning, preparation, communication. Understanding purpose. Paying attention to the reason behind a gathering — whether it be a book club or a meeting between heads of state — and to the needs of the people involved. She lays out ground rules and guidelines for helping you understand the event beforehand, then make it a success. Recommended reading even if you don't often entertain world leaders.

My usual quibble: poor editing. Parker is fond of pronouns; many of her sentences include ambiguous antecedents, forcing the reader to halt and back up. Caveat lector.

P.S. should you decide to time-travel to 1985 to double-check my assertion above, would you mind passing along a stock tip to 20-year-old me? “Buy low; sell high.” would be perfect.