Eduardo Santiago
Trippy! I never knew where he would go next, and every zig and zag was intense. Friend J recently expressed a penchant for “books that make me feel, or make me think”; This one is very much both. Powers is a True Believer, almost but not quite Leary level, but he’s very much self-aware: just when I was getting ready to ditch the book he comes out with Sometimes, I play back an interview I did, and creeping into my voice is the breathless panting of a zealot.. He does that a lot, going into what feels like manifesto mode and then swerving into ... well, different tacks.
The one central thread is healing. Psychedelics have an immense power to heal trauma, and apparently Black Americans experience quite a bit of generational and personal and daily trauma [citation buffer overflow]. Powers explores what that healing could look like, and wow does he go in depth, with angles and consequences I’d never considered, all with love and rage and wonder. He kept me on my toes, feeling and thinking. His alternate-self exploration, where he acknowledges a different-timeline version of himself who grew up stuck in the Projects, hit home hard. There but for incredible good fortune and privilege, etc etc.
Not a book for everyone. If you haven't personally experienced the healing, you may find it baffling or even unnerving. If you're already a (lower-case) true believer, and want to learn more about antiracist healing possibilities, and are willing to be challenged, pick this up.
Trippy! I never knew where he would go next, and every zig and zag was intense. Friend J recently expressed a penchant for “books that make me feel, or make me think”; This one is very much both. Powers is a True Believer, almost but not quite Leary level, but he’s very much self-aware: just when I was getting ready to ditch the book he comes out with Sometimes, I play back an interview I did, and creeping into my voice is the breathless panting of a zealot.. He does that a lot, going into what feels like manifesto mode and then swerving into ... well, different tacks.
The one central thread is healing. Psychedelics have an immense power to heal trauma, and apparently Black Americans experience quite a bit of generational and personal and daily trauma [citation buffer overflow]. Powers explores what that healing could look like, and wow does he go in depth, with angles and consequences I’d never considered, all with love and rage and wonder. He kept me on my toes, feeling and thinking. His alternate-self exploration, where he acknowledges a different-timeline version of himself who grew up stuck in the Projects, hit home hard. There but for incredible good fortune and privilege, etc etc.
Not a book for everyone. If you haven't personally experienced the healing, you may find it baffling or even unnerving. If you're already a (lower-case) true believer, and want to learn more about antiracist healing possibilities, and are willing to be challenged, pick this up.
DNF after first story. Insipid. Childish writing style.
DNF after first story. Insipid. Childish writing style.
Much broader in scope than I had expected, and effectively so. Cooper spends 290 of the 350 pages laying the groundwork before getting to The Incident: growing up gay and Black in 1970s USA; discovering a passion for birding; sharing said passion; and then selected vignettes from his journey through life. These include travels, personal discovery, family dynamics, work life. All of it suffused with inescapable double-whammy systemic oppression. He's mature and insightful, a talented writer, and his technique works: when we finally get to The Incident, the reader is well prepared to understand it in greater context.
A little TMI in some aspects: in addition to birds, Cooper is seriously into comics, and he makes darn sure that the reader learns all about his (admittedly impressive) work at Marvel and elsewhere. As someone not quite as drawn by the genre, I'll admit to skimming a little. And there's my personal gripe about memoirs: how do you write fairly about those in your life, when they don't have an equal platform to explain themselves? Cooper comes off as fairminded, but I always just tense up when writers reveal private facts about private people. And, well, the birds. There's a lot of bird talk, and how wonderful birding is for every aspect of your life, and I'll confess to skimming some of that too. I get the sense that many of those parts were written to appeal to already-birders, not as an invitation. (Now I'm curious: has anyone been converted to birdaholism by reading this book?)
Much broader in scope than I had expected, and effectively so. Cooper spends 290 of the 350 pages laying the groundwork before getting to The Incident: growing up gay and Black in 1970s USA; discovering a passion for birding; sharing said passion; and then selected vignettes from his journey through life. These include travels, personal discovery, family dynamics, work life. All of it suffused with inescapable double-whammy systemic oppression. He's mature and insightful, a talented writer, and his technique works: when we finally get to The Incident, the reader is well prepared to understand it in greater context.
A little TMI in some aspects: in addition to birds, Cooper is seriously into comics, and he makes darn sure that the reader learns all about his (admittedly impressive) work at Marvel and elsewhere. As someone not quite as drawn by the genre, I'll admit to skimming a little. And there's my personal gripe about memoirs: how do you write fairly about those in your life, when they don't have an equal platform to explain themselves? Cooper comes off as fairminded, but I always just tense up when writers reveal private facts about private people. And, well, the birds. There's a lot of bird talk, and how wonderful birding is for every aspect of your life, and I'll confess to skimming some of that too. I get the sense that many of those parts were written to appeal to already-birders, not as an invitation. (Now I'm curious: has anyone been converted to birdaholism by reading this book?)
Another one where I'm not the target audience, but this time I knew that coming in: this was a deliberate outside-my-orbit read, my aim being to gain insight and understanding. Sadly, this was too far out of my orbit, with a barrage of cultural references and idioms that flew completely over my head. There's really good maerial here, and I'm glad to have read it, but I really can't recommend to anyone except an urban under-thirty Black woman. (And to those, with a caveat: Oriowo seems a bit unaware of her own privilege, so maybe you want to already be educated and fairly well off and with a supportive friend-and-family network before you dive into this).
Another one where I'm not the target audience, but this time I knew that coming in: this was a deliberate outside-my-orbit read, my aim being to gain insight and understanding. Sadly, this was too far out of my orbit, with a barrage of cultural references and idioms that flew completely over my head. There's really good maerial here, and I'm glad to have read it, but I really can't recommend to anyone except an urban under-thirty Black woman. (And to those, with a caveat: Oriowo seems a bit unaware of her own privilege, so maybe you want to already be educated and fairly well off and with a supportive friend-and-family network before you dive into this).
Not what I was hoping for. This might be a good intro for someone just beginning to wonder about consciousness, but even so it has huge gaps, e.g., the word "emergence" doesn't even appear until the last twenty pages and then only dismissively--"no one has yet specified how or why that might actually happen, making emergence sound less like a scientific explanation than an abracadabra"--which kind of misses the point: nobody understands emergent phenomena. It's still an accepted and fascinating field of study. Pollan also spends waaaaaay too much time on LLMs (seriously) and, IMO, not enough on plants.
Unrated, because I'm not the target audience, but please don't think of that as an antirecommendation. If you're a Michael Pollan fan, you're going to read this no matter what I say. For everyone else, I would recommend Lights On (audiobook only) as a broad overview of the field. For anyone really into consciousness studies, you already have your own favorite reading list.
Not what I was hoping for. This might be a good intro for someone just beginning to wonder about consciousness, but even so it has huge gaps, e.g., the word "emergence" doesn't even appear until the last twenty pages and then only dismissively--"no one has yet specified how or why that might actually happen, making emergence sound less like a scientific explanation than an abracadabra"--which kind of misses the point: nobody understands emergent phenomena. It's still an accepted and fascinating field of study. Pollan also spends waaaaaay too much time on LLMs (seriously) and, IMO, not enough on plants.
Unrated, because I'm not the target audience, but please don't think of that as an antirecommendation. If you're a Michael Pollan fan, you're going to read this no matter what I say. For everyone else, I would recommend Lights On (audiobook only) as a broad overview of the field. For anyone really into consciousness studies, you already have your own favorite reading list.
Friend of mine has a three-inch tattoo on her inner wrist in honor of a friend who suicided. It's simple: the word “enough,” lower-case, clean, a permanent daily reminder that every one of us is so. (Okay, most of us.) This book is a somewhat longer, less in-your-face but equally impactful refresher.
Fierce beginning, captivating from the first page. And although the tone swings wildly, from snarky to tender to funny to somber, the writing never lets go of you. I found and made time to read and read more. Bakman has grown up since that wretched Ove book: he understands longing, grief, laughter, and the fragility of human communication. He writes elegantly, has a gift for quirky similes and turns of phrase, and uses misdirection cleverly: so many times I thought I knew where he was going, and was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. Smith's translation is delightful.
I found the book deeply comforting. Realistic about the soulcrushingness of life but more so how we uplift each other. The tension of keeping our defenses raised, the indescribable freedom of lowering them among loved ones. How our life paths are altered by the smallest things and how, together, we bring out the best in one another. And how we are already enough. Am forever indebted to A. for urging me to read this
Friend of mine has a three-inch tattoo on her inner wrist in honor of a friend who suicided. It's simple: the word “enough,” lower-case, clean, a permanent daily reminder that every one of us is so. (Okay, most of us.) This book is a somewhat longer, less in-your-face but equally impactful refresher.
Fierce beginning, captivating from the first page. And although the tone swings wildly, from snarky to tender to funny to somber, the writing never lets go of you. I found and made time to read and read more. Bakman has grown up since that wretched Ove book: he understands longing, grief, laughter, and the fragility of human communication. He writes elegantly, has a gift for quirky similes and turns of phrase, and uses misdirection cleverly: so many times I thought I knew where he was going, and was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. Smith's translation is delightful.
I found the book deeply comforting. Realistic about the soulcrushingness of life but more so how we uplift each other. The tension of keeping our defenses raised, the indescribable freedom of lowering them among loved ones. How our life paths are altered by the smallest things and how, together, we bring out the best in one another. And how we are already enough. Am forever indebted to A. for urging me to read this
What a ride. I don't even know how to start reviewing because my emotions were all over the place from the very first page, which was a hell of a start. I was quickly drawn in; then a little annoyed at the preachiness (but I'm in that choir so that was easy to let go of); then annoyed by all the serendipitous timing (this one eventually mogrified into amusement: the story hinges on so many improbabilities that I gave up and settled down for the ride); anger (some people need killing, and McConaghy draws some pretty despicable characters). Slight irritation at how manipulative the book got at times--okay, more at me, really, for being so easily manipulated.
But I also felt wonder and humility and hella tension and satisfaction and a big burning hope that maybe some not-yet-environmentally-aware people might read this and maybe learn a little and grow. It's an absorbing read, with beautiful prose and dialog, and I'm glad I had free time to read this over a few days. Highly recommended, but set your Suspension of Disbelief dial to eleven. And enjoy the ride.
What a ride. I don't even know how to start reviewing because my emotions were all over the place from the very first page, which was a hell of a start. I was quickly drawn in; then a little annoyed at the preachiness (but I'm in that choir so that was easy to let go of); then annoyed by all the serendipitous timing (this one eventually mogrified into amusement: the story hinges on so many improbabilities that I gave up and settled down for the ride); anger (some people need killing, and McConaghy draws some pretty despicable characters). Slight irritation at how manipulative the book got at times--okay, more at me, really, for being so easily manipulated.
But I also felt wonder and humility and hella tension and satisfaction and a big burning hope that maybe some not-yet-environmentally-aware people might read this and maybe learn a little and grow. It's an absorbing read, with beautiful prose and dialog, and I'm glad I had free time to read this over a few days. Highly recommended, but set your Suspension of Disbelief dial to eleven. And enjoy the ride.
There's a lot wrong with this book, but there's a lot right, too, and it was fun overall, so I can forgive a lot of the wrong. Now if only I could figure out what the book was about. Grit? Strength? Luck? Horrible family dynamics? Capitalism? The perils of easy fame? Storytelling? Human heart? Maybe I'll go with food: very few pages would go by without mentioning jollof rice and/or fried plantains. There's all that and much more, and it kept me on my toes.
This is billed as SF but it's really escapist fantasy. There's no science whatsoever, just elements of technobabble that could just as well (and more believably) be magic. Anyone with a fundamental tech background will be gritting teeth and muttering "No, It Does Not Work That Way" at times, particularly during the cheesy story-within-a-story. So will anyone with any knowledge of book publishing or cybernetics. The wish-fulfillment grew heavy at times. And still, I kept reading, and it was darn fun. Okorafor writes complex characters, annoying and relatable and just sympathetic enough to make me care for them. Well, except for her family, those are unredeemably awful.
There's a lot wrong with this book, but there's a lot right, too, and it was fun overall, so I can forgive a lot of the wrong. Now if only I could figure out what the book was about. Grit? Strength? Luck? Horrible family dynamics? Capitalism? The perils of easy fame? Storytelling? Human heart? Maybe I'll go with food: very few pages would go by without mentioning jollof rice and/or fried plantains. There's all that and much more, and it kept me on my toes.
This is billed as SF but it's really escapist fantasy. There's no science whatsoever, just elements of technobabble that could just as well (and more believably) be magic. Anyone with a fundamental tech background will be gritting teeth and muttering "No, It Does Not Work That Way" at times, particularly during the cheesy story-within-a-story. So will anyone with any knowledge of book publishing or cybernetics. The wish-fulfillment grew heavy at times. And still, I kept reading, and it was darn fun. Okorafor writes complex characters, annoying and relatable and just sympathetic enough to make me care for them. Well, except for her family, those are unredeemably awful.
There's a lot wrong with this book, but there's a lot right, too, and it was fun overall, so I can forgive a lot of the wrong. Now if only I could figure out what the book was about. Grit? Strength? Luck? Horrible family dynamics? Capitalism? The perils of easy fame? Storytelling? Human heart? Maybe I'll go with food: very few pages would go by without mentioning jollof rice and/or fried plantains. There's all that and much more, and it kept me on my toes.
This is billed as SF but it's really escapist fantasy. There's no science whatsoever, just elements of technobabble that could just as well (and more believably) be magic. Anyone with a fundamental tech background will be gritting teeth and muttering "No, It Does Not Work That Way" at times, particularly during the cheesy story-within-a-story. So will anyone with any knowledge of book publishing or cybernetics. The wish-fulfillment grew heavy at times. And still, I kept reading, and it was darn fun. Okorafor writes complex characters, annoying and relatable and just sympathetic enough to make me care for them. Well, except for her family, those are unredeemably awful.
There's a lot wrong with this book, but there's a lot right, too, and it was fun overall, so I can forgive a lot of the wrong. Now if only I could figure out what the book was about. Grit? Strength? Luck? Horrible family dynamics? Capitalism? The perils of easy fame? Storytelling? Human heart? Maybe I'll go with food: very few pages would go by without mentioning jollof rice and/or fried plantains. There's all that and much more, and it kept me on my toes.
This is billed as SF but it's really escapist fantasy. There's no science whatsoever, just elements of technobabble that could just as well (and more believably) be magic. Anyone with a fundamental tech background will be gritting teeth and muttering "No, It Does Not Work That Way" at times, particularly during the cheesy story-within-a-story. So will anyone with any knowledge of book publishing or cybernetics. The wish-fulfillment grew heavy at times. And still, I kept reading, and it was darn fun. Okorafor writes complex characters, annoying and relatable and just sympathetic enough to make me care for them. Well, except for her family, those are unredeemably awful.
DNF after the first part (1987, the three names). The abusive husband sickens me.
DNF after the first part (1987, the three names). The abusive husband sickens me.
Much too dry and academic, often impenetrable. Reading the same paragraph over and over again, not getting anything out of it. Which really hurts because friend C. pressed this into my hands with such high hopes that I'd enjoy it. And I'm fervently on board with the gist of it--what I could get--just not the delivery. Unrated because I'm not smart or educated enough to weigh in.
Much too dry and academic, often impenetrable. Reading the same paragraph over and over again, not getting anything out of it. Which really hurts because friend C. pressed this into my hands with such high hopes that I'd enjoy it. And I'm fervently on board with the gist of it--what I could get--just not the delivery. Unrated because I'm not smart or educated enough to weigh in.
Wondrous. An improbable chain that is, I think, unique in human history. Finding a wild animal baby is rare but not noteworthy; it's what ensues that's miraculous.
Dalton treats the hare, and the entire situation, with respect. No starry-eyed romantic notions of bambi, just a pragmatic decision to try to save one life while minimizing the damage she inflicts on a wild creature. Again, not that rare, it's what rescue organizations do every day. She has the motivation to learn how to doit right, the privilege to devote time and resources to this effort. What are the odds? Slim but not none.
Where it veers into Infinite Improbability Drive territory is that Dalton can write. She chronicles the years-long experience gracefully. She sheds light on previously unknown or misunderstood hare behavior. And she describes her own transformation. Did you watch _My Octopus Teacher_? Very much like that. What an opportunity, and what incredible growth, and what a miracle that she has the talent and wisdom to share with us.
My big worry is the copycats: the imbeciles who will focus on "ooh save a baby" while missing 99.9% of the book. Dalton is intelligent and mature, so I know she must've feared that before publishing. We should all be thankful that she chose to go ahead, because this book is a gift to the soul.
Wondrous. An improbable chain that is, I think, unique in human history. Finding a wild animal baby is rare but not noteworthy; it's what ensues that's miraculous.
Dalton treats the hare, and the entire situation, with respect. No starry-eyed romantic notions of bambi, just a pragmatic decision to try to save one life while minimizing the damage she inflicts on a wild creature. Again, not that rare, it's what rescue organizations do every day. She has the motivation to learn how to doit right, the privilege to devote time and resources to this effort. What are the odds? Slim but not none.
Where it veers into Infinite Improbability Drive territory is that Dalton can write. She chronicles the years-long experience gracefully. She sheds light on previously unknown or misunderstood hare behavior. And she describes her own transformation. Did you watch _My Octopus Teacher_? Very much like that. What an opportunity, and what incredible growth, and what a miracle that she has the talent and wisdom to share with us.
My big worry is the copycats: the imbeciles who will focus on "ooh save a baby" while missing 99.9% of the book. Dalton is intelligent and mature, so I know she must've feared that before publishing. We should all be thankful that she chose to go ahead, because this book is a gift to the soul.
Arnold's first book was sublime. This one, not so much. I felt on edge throughout most of it--perhaps not the desired effect in a book on Zen.
It started off (forgive me) on the wrong foot, with her account of the accident. The decisions made in its aftermath were poor in every respect, not just her personal safety but that of the entire rest of the expedition. Her lack of consideration disturbed me and set the tone for my whole reading experience; her subsequent anger and resentment did not help, nor did the overall sense of tension, which felt inconsistent with her frequent assertions that she's finding inner peace. <i>Show</i> and <i>tell</i> seemed out of sync to me. Plus there's an uncomfortable amount of (nonconsensual) exposition of her personal relationships.
And yet. Her writing is vivid, evocative, and most of all meditative: it took me a long time to read this short book because I paused frequently to reread and/or reflect. She gets a lot right, and presents Zen concepts with quite a different slant than the average lecturer. Refreshing and insightful. So even though she is (IMO) too-desperately chasing some elusive nirvana, I respect her path and am fortunate to learn from her.
Recommended for students of life.
Arnold's first book was sublime. This one, not so much. I felt on edge throughout most of it--perhaps not the desired effect in a book on Zen.
It started off (forgive me) on the wrong foot, with her account of the accident. The decisions made in its aftermath were poor in every respect, not just her personal safety but that of the entire rest of the expedition. Her lack of consideration disturbed me and set the tone for my whole reading experience; her subsequent anger and resentment did not help, nor did the overall sense of tension, which felt inconsistent with her frequent assertions that she's finding inner peace. <i>Show</i> and <i>tell</i> seemed out of sync to me. Plus there's an uncomfortable amount of (nonconsensual) exposition of her personal relationships.
And yet. Her writing is vivid, evocative, and most of all meditative: it took me a long time to read this short book because I paused frequently to reread and/or reflect. She gets a lot right, and presents Zen concepts with quite a different slant than the average lecturer. Refreshing and insightful. So even though she is (IMO) too-desperately chasing some elusive nirvana, I respect her path and am fortunate to learn from her.
Recommended for students of life.
Beautiful writing, ... but way, way too much of it. It grew wearisome. If the characters had been interesting, or the story, I would've devoured. A clever friend aptly suggested that it would make a good coffee table book: pick it up once in a while, read and appreciate a few lovely paragraphs, put it back down and forget it for a spell.
What I found most interesting was discussing the book with friends. It's a Rorschach test! Everyone I spoke to focused on different aspects of its many themes. For me, shallowness and classism stood out. Desai packs in a ton of cultural insight; I found it at times fascinating and at other times overwhelmingly dense.
Am I glad I persevered? Ambivalent. The Covenant of Water was another 700-page tome with exquisite writing, but in that one I cared about the people and the story. I still rave about it. This one, I found Sonia and Sunny mostly flat, and all (ok most of) the other characters were contemptible. But hey, there are all kinds of people. Some even liked Wuthering Heights. (This one isn't as bad as that. Nothing is as bad as Wuthering Heights).
Beautiful writing, ... but way, way too much of it. It grew wearisome. If the characters had been interesting, or the story, I would've devoured. A clever friend aptly suggested that it would make a good coffee table book: pick it up once in a while, read and appreciate a few lovely paragraphs, put it back down and forget it for a spell.
What I found most interesting was discussing the book with friends. It's a Rorschach test! Everyone I spoke to focused on different aspects of its many themes. For me, shallowness and classism stood out. Desai packs in a ton of cultural insight; I found it at times fascinating and at other times overwhelmingly dense.
Am I glad I persevered? Ambivalent. The Covenant of Water was another 700-page tome with exquisite writing, but in that one I cared about the people and the story. I still rave about it. This one, I found Sonia and Sunny mostly flat, and all (ok most of) the other characters were contemptible. But hey, there are all kinds of people. Some even liked Wuthering Heights. (This one isn't as bad as that. Nothing is as bad as Wuthering Heights).