Eduardo Santiago
Beautiful and moving and heartbreaking. If you listened to the podcast you remember the tension and the fascinating, disturbing history of greed, abuse, pillage and murder. It's all in here, and much more: photos, extra history, updates.
Nagle is a great storyteller, in both podcast and book mediums. Her prose kept me on edge and engaged. She is honest. She sticks to facts; and those facts are damning.
One month from now, greedy white predatory lawbreaking immigrant cockroaches will begin looting and pillaging the U.S., destroying an entire country and killing millions of people. Possibly including you and me. We will all get to find out first hand what it's like to be hunted and crushed and slaughtered. Some will survive and, perhaps, get to write stories like this one.
Beautiful and moving and heartbreaking. If you listened to the podcast you remember the tension and the fascinating, disturbing history of greed, abuse, pillage and murder. It's all in here, and much more: photos, extra history, updates.
Nagle is a great storyteller, in both podcast and book mediums. Her prose kept me on edge and engaged. She is honest. She sticks to facts; and those facts are damning.
One month from now, greedy white predatory lawbreaking immigrant cockroaches will begin looting and pillaging the U.S., destroying an entire country and killing millions of people. Possibly including you and me. We will all get to find out first hand what it's like to be hunted and crushed and slaughtered. Some will survive and, perhaps, get to write stories like this one.
Charming! Not a whole lot of new material for anyone who's been cooking a while, but enough to read (not skim) the whole way through... and worth doing so for the sense of joy that infuses the book. Nosrat is a storyteller, an ebullient one; all of her lessons are illustrated via memorable tales of her experiences and mishaps and successes. She uses humor judiciously: as a seasoning, if you will. Every page is filled with delight.
Charming! Not a whole lot of new material for anyone who's been cooking a while, but enough to read (not skim) the whole way through... and worth doing so for the sense of joy that infuses the book. Nosrat is a storyteller, an ebullient one; all of her lessons are illustrated via memorable tales of her experiences and mishaps and successes. She uses humor judiciously: as a seasoning, if you will. Every page is filled with delight.
Well written and organized. Informative and engaging. Much of what she wrote in 2016, it's not that it's "still relevant" today, it's that it's worse. Chapter 5, on corruption, was chilling. The next pandemics will hit a U.S. whose medical and clinical institutions have been decimated; a U.S. with subhumans in charge of all national offices and with an economic depression or possibly full collapse. Information gathering and sharing, research, prevention, treatment, will all be up to states or isolated universities. And, as Shah clearly describes, violent mobs will likely strike at the latter. Interesting times. I feel sorry for the few who might survive.
Well written and organized. Informative and engaging. Much of what she wrote in 2016, it's not that it's "still relevant" today, it's that it's worse. Chapter 5, on corruption, was chilling. The next pandemics will hit a U.S. whose medical and clinical institutions have been decimated; a U.S. with subhumans in charge of all national offices and with an economic depression or possibly full collapse. Information gathering and sharing, research, prevention, treatment, will all be up to states or isolated universities. And, as Shah clearly describes, violent mobs will likely strike at the latter. Interesting times. I feel sorry for the few who might survive.
All I felt was dismay that a book like this would even need to be written: nothing in it is new or even unusual. It's simply how a human being lives day to day, with integrity and decency.
Then I started thinking about two books I read in the past week, [book:Mountain Time|201358084] and [book:Thunder Song|185767242], both dealing in part with the Turtle Island genocide, and in particular illustrating historical interactions between individuals. Both books reinforced a belief I've long held: inferiors are <i>incapable</i> of understanding honor. It's not that they scorn it or use it selectively, it's that their brains genuinely don't have the ability to register it. Sort of a corollary to Jonathan Haidt's work. Anyhow, that makes it challenging to reach them... and impossible for a book like this. So who is Snyder's target audience then?
All I felt was dismay that a book like this would even need to be written: nothing in it is new or even unusual. It's simply how a human being lives day to day, with integrity and decency.
Then I started thinking about two books I read in the past week, [book:Mountain Time|201358084] and [book:Thunder Song|185767242], both dealing in part with the Turtle Island genocide, and in particular illustrating historical interactions between individuals. Both books reinforced a belief I've long held: inferiors are <i>incapable</i> of understanding honor. It's not that they scorn it or use it selectively, it's that their brains genuinely don't have the ability to register it. Sort of a corollary to Jonathan Haidt's work. Anyhow, that makes it challenging to reach them... and impossible for a book like this. So who is Snyder's target audience then?
A little too breezy for my taste but taken in small doses, such as one chapter per night, it was enjoyable and informative. The most distinctive element—something I’ve never seen before—is a blurb covering the history and evolution of each mark. Also useful are notes detailing the differences in opinion between Chicago, AP, and other style guides, and why those matter.
A little too breezy for my taste but taken in small doses, such as one chapter per night, it was enjoyable and informative. The most distinctive element—something I’ve never seen before—is a blurb covering the history and evolution of each mark. Also useful are notes detailing the differences in opinion between Chicago, AP, and other style guides, and why those matter.
About the best I can say is that it won’t get tagged wish-I’d-DNF’ed. Although by about page 50 I was considering it. Like Firekeeper’s Daughter, this one too was way over the top and high drama; and hyperprecocious protagonist; and wildly improbable twists; and did I mention the DRAMA? This protagonist is sixteen, and even as first-person narrator she comes off as unlikable: dishonest, irresponsible, borderline delinquent... and that’s just the first fifty pages. Boulley focuses on story, not characters, and she packs a lot: her goal clearly seems to be educating the world about anthropological crimes and MMIW, but this was too heavyhanded to accomplish much of either.
About the best I can say is that it won’t get tagged wish-I’d-DNF’ed. Although by about page 50 I was considering it. Like Firekeeper’s Daughter, this one too was way over the top and high drama; and hyperprecocious protagonist; and wildly improbable twists; and did I mention the DRAMA? This protagonist is sixteen, and even as first-person narrator she comes off as unlikable: dishonest, irresponsible, borderline delinquent... and that’s just the first fifty pages. Boulley focuses on story, not characters, and she packs a lot: her goal clearly seems to be educating the world about anthropological crimes and MMIW, but this was too heavyhanded to accomplish much of either.
UPDATE, two months later: I tried again and finished it. Thank goodness that’s over. It was tiresome, heavyhanded; the dialog blathery and often unreadable. The only reason I kept at it was to better read and understand Demon Copperhead, so I ended up just skimming the second half. It often helped to fantasize about Copperfield stabbing a rusty knife in this-or-that evil person’s throat and watching them slowly drown in their own blood. The hope that “next page he’ll do it, for sure!” kept me going more than once.
Ten years separate this from [book:A Tale of Two Cities|1953] and it really shows: although this one shows hints of Dickens’s compassion and sense of justice, he grew up a lot in that time.
Now I eagerly go forward to Kingsolver!
UPDATE, two months later: I tried again and finished it. Thank goodness that’s over. It was tiresome, heavyhanded; the dialog blathery and often unreadable. The only reason I kept at it was to better read and understand Demon Copperhead, so I ended up just skimming the second half. It often helped to fantasize about Copperfield stabbing a rusty knife in this-or-that evil person’s throat and watching them slowly drown in their own blood. The hope that “next page he’ll do it, for sure!” kept me going more than once.
Ten years separate this from [book:A Tale of Two Cities|1953] and it really shows: although this one shows hints of Dickens’s compassion and sense of justice, he grew up a lot in that time.
Now I eagerly go forward to Kingsolver!
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.
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.
2024-12-07 Abandoned, p.148. Friends of mine who are smart, literate, and compassionate love this book; I just find it tedious. The Russian Master stories are meh. Saunders's over-over-overanalysis of each one is navelgazing to extremes I never imagined possible. But shrug, I'm not a writer or a literary critic nor do I GAF about the art of writing nor am I smart literate compassionate, and life is short.
2024-12-07 Abandoned, p.148. Friends of mine who are smart, literate, and compassionate love this book; I just find it tedious. The Russian Master stories are meh. Saunders's over-over-overanalysis of each one is navelgazing to extremes I never imagined possible. But shrug, I'm not a writer or a literary critic nor do I GAF about the art of writing nor am I smart literate compassionate, and life is short.
Fierce and powerful and disturbing. LaPointe's life, and her ancestors', is filled with traumas that most of us will never experience. Also tremendous good fortune, if we can call it that to escape attacks from a predatory exploitative system that shouldn't exist. Would you call yourself lucky to walk through a park without being kidnapped/murdered? To survive domestic abuse and negligent medical care? The book had me constantly reflecting on my privilege.
Hers is a life I will never truly understand: 90's punk scene, queer, rage, neglect, fear. LaPointe gets me to see, hear, and feel more intimately than perhaps I ever have. Gives me a new deeper sense of the generational trauma of Coast Sailish people, of the racism and violences against them, of the daily weight of loss.
This isn't just a rage-etc book. LaPointe is an adult now, with a huge and beautiful heart. She writes of transformation and reconciliation and hope and growth. Deeply moving.
Strong recommendation: look up <b>Vi Hilbert</b> before you begin reading.
Piggyback note: reading this in December 2024 is especially painful. Being reminded of the disease, destruction, violence, and suffering inflicted upon good people by a much smaller group of white monsters; of Chief Seattle's courage in the face of indescribable loss; I'm imagining some wise old souls bowing heads sadly and thinking, here we go again.
Fierce and powerful and disturbing. LaPointe's life, and her ancestors', is filled with traumas that most of us will never experience. Also tremendous good fortune, if we can call it that to escape attacks from a predatory exploitative system that shouldn't exist. Would you call yourself lucky to walk through a park without being kidnapped/murdered? To survive domestic abuse and negligent medical care? The book had me constantly reflecting on my privilege.
Hers is a life I will never truly understand: 90's punk scene, queer, rage, neglect, fear. LaPointe gets me to see, hear, and feel more intimately than perhaps I ever have. Gives me a new deeper sense of the generational trauma of Coast Sailish people, of the racism and violences against them, of the daily weight of loss.
This isn't just a rage-etc book. LaPointe is an adult now, with a huge and beautiful heart. She writes of transformation and reconciliation and hope and growth. Deeply moving.
Strong recommendation: look up <b>Vi Hilbert</b> before you begin reading.
Piggyback note: reading this in December 2024 is especially painful. Being reminded of the disease, destruction, violence, and suffering inflicted upon good people by a much smaller group of white monsters; of Chief Seattle's courage in the face of indescribable loss; I'm imagining some wise old souls bowing heads sadly and thinking, here we go again.
I can see the appeal: there probably aren't that many gentle murder mysteries. I liked the pacing, thoughtfulness, and compassion. I liked the depictions of scenery and culture. The characters themselves were onedimensional, but that's ok for a first work. And the plot contortions, ditto. Penny shows promise and I will probably read more of her work.
I can see the appeal: there probably aren't that many gentle murder mysteries. I liked the pacing, thoughtfulness, and compassion. I liked the depictions of scenery and culture. The characters themselves were onedimensional, but that's ok for a first work. And the plot contortions, ditto. Penny shows promise and I will probably read more of her work.
Exquisite. Holy Posole with Mole and Guacamole, what an astonishing collection. How can someone write about heartbreaking loss, so many forms of it, while leaving the reader feeling cocooned in warmth and love and hope? I think Golden gets it; understands the Big Questions and their pesky Answers that lie just at the edge of our vision. (See Gegenschein in the Glossary and Notes).
Read this book. Read it as soon as you can. Give yourself time and patience, because the first two essays are (sorry) not her best: awkward and clashy, informative but at a cost. Worth reading anyway. After those two, she really gets in stride and WOW. What a heart. What a talent for depicting the natural world, and human foibles. What an ability to show just how easy it would be to do the right thing, and how tragic it is that over and over we choose not to.
Read it. Read the Glossary (Seriously. Consider it required reading). Read the Notes (not quite as required reading). Give some thought to the questions she raises. Then give your copy (or a copy) to someone you love.
Exquisite. Holy Posole with Mole and Guacamole, what an astonishing collection. How can someone write about heartbreaking loss, so many forms of it, while leaving the reader feeling cocooned in warmth and love and hope? I think Golden gets it; understands the Big Questions and their pesky Answers that lie just at the edge of our vision. (See Gegenschein in the Glossary and Notes).
Read this book. Read it as soon as you can. Give yourself time and patience, because the first two essays are (sorry) not her best: awkward and clashy, informative but at a cost. Worth reading anyway. After those two, she really gets in stride and WOW. What a heart. What a talent for depicting the natural world, and human foibles. What an ability to show just how easy it would be to do the right thing, and how tragic it is that over and over we choose not to.
Read it. Read the Glossary (Seriously. Consider it required reading). Read the Notes (not quite as required reading). Give some thought to the questions she raises. Then give your copy (or a copy) to someone you love.
They used to say psychopaths made up about one percent of the general population; that figure will need to be revised in light of the 2024 election. Have you ever wanted to spend time inside the head of one? Kuang takes you there. It's not easy. Not for the reader—I had to reach out to A. at the end of chapter two to ask for advice—and, ouch, almost certainly not for the poor author. My heart felt for Kuang, having to write first-person from the PoV of a narcissistic, self-absorbed, neurotic banal twisted monster. In the acknowledgments Kuang recognizes and thanks her support network (and I do too) but still, that has to leave scars. I wish her healing.
I'm glad to have kept reading. Also sad, because despite a smattering of overthetopness there really are people like that out there, as well as soulcrushing cutthroat environments that ... well, don't exactly create those monsters but they foster monstrous traits. And sadder yet as I remember Sapolsky's Behave and of course Tavris/Aronson's Mistakes Were Made (But Not By Me) and accept that there is nothing we can do to fix such broken people. Kuang's pacing and prose are captivating, and her depiction of the psycho is fascinating in the proverbial slow-motion train wreck sense.
TTFN. I now need to scrub my brain with bleach.
They used to say psychopaths made up about one percent of the general population; that figure will need to be revised in light of the 2024 election. Have you ever wanted to spend time inside the head of one? Kuang takes you there. It's not easy. Not for the reader—I had to reach out to A. at the end of chapter two to ask for advice—and, ouch, almost certainly not for the poor author. My heart felt for Kuang, having to write first-person from the PoV of a narcissistic, self-absorbed, neurotic banal twisted monster. In the acknowledgments Kuang recognizes and thanks her support network (and I do too) but still, that has to leave scars. I wish her healing.
I'm glad to have kept reading. Also sad, because despite a smattering of overthetopness there really are people like that out there, as well as soulcrushing cutthroat environments that ... well, don't exactly create those monsters but they foster monstrous traits. And sadder yet as I remember Sapolsky's Behave and of course Tavris/Aronson's Mistakes Were Made (But Not By Me) and accept that there is nothing we can do to fix such broken people. Kuang's pacing and prose are captivating, and her depiction of the psycho is fascinating in the proverbial slow-motion train wreck sense.
TTFN. I now need to scrub my brain with bleach.
Unexpectedly comforting. Goodall is an amazing person: talented, smart, accomplished, kind, and, most importantly to me, not a bullshitter. She differentiates hope from optimism and from wishful thinking, recognizing that hope requires effort and awareness. She cites scientific research on hope, but mostly sticks to stories because they're more effective.
Our future was stolen from us on November 5. This book has helped me face that.
Unexpectedly comforting. Goodall is an amazing person: talented, smart, accomplished, kind, and, most importantly to me, not a bullshitter. She differentiates hope from optimism and from wishful thinking, recognizing that hope requires effort and awareness. She cites scientific research on hope, but mostly sticks to stories because they're more effective.
Our future was stolen from us on November 5. This book has helped me face that.
Ouch. Way too painful to read right now.
Ouch. Way too painful to read right now.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Phenomenal. And I'm intensely glad to have read David Copperfield first.
Updated a reading goal:
Read 80 books in 2024
Progress so far: 50 / 80 63%
So, I read the English edition right after the original, and almost dropped it ten pages in. The tone feels all wrong: brusque and choppy, not the indescribable softer touch of Herrera’s oh-so-deliberate Spanish. English lacks sensuousness and depth sometimes. And reflexive verbs! Herrera makes delicious use of this property, and it’s completely lost in translation. I had to go back and reread parts of the Spanish just to remind myself of the flow and tone. I can’t call it a bad translation, it really is quite sensible, it just misses so much.
So, I read the English edition right after the original, and almost dropped it ten pages in. The tone feels all wrong: brusque and choppy, not the indescribable softer touch of Herrera’s oh-so-deliberate Spanish. English lacks sensuousness and depth sometimes. And reflexive verbs! Herrera makes delicious use of this property, and it’s completely lost in translation. I had to go back and reread parts of the Spanish just to remind myself of the flow and tone. I can’t call it a bad translation, it really is quite sensible, it just misses so much.