Eduardo Santiago

Yeesh. A whole lotta cringe. Some parts funny, but mostly sad. I might just be too old for this.

Some good stuff. An interesting new development: Murderbot exhibiting vulnerability! Promising, but unfulfilled here. This book was 90% action, suspense, one peril after another, and lots of filler technical details. In a word, tedious.

Infuriating. No matter how informed you consider yourself on systemic racism and health inequities, you will learn from this book. No matter how angry you are, you will get angrier.

It will take ever-increasing awareness and effort for these problems to start being addressed. Effort from you and me and everyone we know. Buy this book, read it, and pass it on.

Book is seemingly written for an eighth-grade reader; maybe to expand its outreach? That diminished my enjoyment but five stars anyway because of the critical importance of its content.

Some good stuff. An interesting new development: Murderbot exhibiting vulnerability! Promising, but unfulfilled here. This book was 90% action, suspense, one peril after another, and lots of filler technical details. In a word, tedious.

So glad it’s finally over. And so glad to have read it.

The first third was sublime. Truly sublime. Yanagihara writes exquisitely, both in tone and style: tremendous compassion and intelligence; beautiful language; fascinating variations in narrative style. Over and over I felt overwhelmed by her sensitivity and awareness. At one point I commented to a friend that it was like reading the NOT LIKE THIS section of a communication self-help book: tiptoeing around delicate subjects, talking across each other, never really Listening. My tone was admiring: only someone with awareness could write such painful examples of the ways we try but fail to connect with others.

The “painful” theme is developed in the next third, to a degree I found perhaps excessive but that could just be my privilege speaking. The final third, unfortunately, I was desensitized and just slogging through: okay, more suffering; okay, valuable insights on human behavior and relationships; repeat.

An observation I made: the book does not pass the Bechdel test. Seven hundred pages, and no two female characters speak to one another. Another observation: no man could possibly have written this book. Few men have the emotional range. And that leads me to my main gripe about the book: the motivations didn’t work, didn’t feel real. The book is primarily about male friendships, but increasingly the dynamics felt inexplicable and rang false. This was fine in the first third, but ultimately weakened the structure. Lesser gripes: too-pat development of the main characters’ lives, and breezy dismissal of what I consider uncomfortable moral questions.

Highly recommended, but with reservations. And with a warning: have a box of tissues nearby.

Very difficult start: infuriating superstition and ignorance, then tragic consequences thereof. Thanks to reviews and encouragement from friends, I kept reading, and am glad I did.

The story is sweet and well told. Almost entirely first-person narration, very effective: a strong voice with quite satisfying growth over time. Rich and fascinating cultural details. Rather more about tea than I'd ever imagined wanting to know—I am firmly Team Coffee—but to my surprise I ended up appreciating those parts. Appreciating the book and its characters quite a lot.

The infrequent (and mercifully brief) shifts into epistolary or dialog narration were awkward, even cringey at times. But, okay, we need exposition, and I appreciate keeping the book under four hundred pages. What disappointed me most was that the story arc was too pat. Too many convenient coincidences. They added to the overall tender tone, but made it feel fluffier. Maybe if you go into it with that expectation you'll be more forgiving than I.

Oh, be sure to read the author's Acknowledgments at the end. Impressive.

Why us? What made one particular ape evolve into what we now are? Hrdy convincingly argues that cooperative parenting is what set the stage. A baby with many carers needs to grasp critical social skills. Hrdy draws upon evidence from the usual suspects: human hunter-gatherer societies and other primate species. Plus present-day and historical research demonstrating the importance of maternal grandmothers to infant survival and success rates.

Winding but always gripping, this is another important book for understanding who we are. It builds upon much of the latest understanding of human evolution. If you haven't been keeping up-to-date, prepare to have some of your fundamental preconceptions tossed out.

Good material, even great material at times, but hard to follow. I think Klein tried to pack in too much: evolutionary psychology, behavioral economics, game theory, neuroscience, even Open Source. All of them are subjects I’m reasonably well read in, but even so I found it rough going. Which really bums me out because I did learn a few good things: research I was unfamiliar with, and new questions to ponder.

I completely agree with his conclusion: the only way humanity will survive is by learning to cooperate on a global scale. The trick, of course, is how. What I found most interesting is Klein’s treatment of punishment as an altruistic behavior: cooperation cannot survive in a society where trust and institutions are undermined. What if we could identify the people causing this harm? What if they were made to pay for their actions? This question may change my future voting strategy.

Not sure I can recommend this, or to whom. For most people, my go-to recommendation on these topics is Hrdy’s [Mothers and Others](https://hardcover.app/books/mothers-and-others): fascinating, and beautifully written. Fukuyama’s [book:Trust|57980] is still my second choice, although I fear it has not aged well.

Second reading (audiobook this time). This one just doesn't do it for me, and I can't understand why. It feels heavyhanded.

Easily as good as the first. Oh, how I needed this right now! This is the kind of book that reminds me there is hope for the world.

It felt like a sketchbook. Watercolor and fine pencil, each two-to-three-page chapter a mix of wispy impressions and sharp focus. Stories and characters radiating around 1970s Vietnam, interlacing together like raindrop ripples in a pond; I hesitate to use weave or tapestry because the overall work is too ethereal, it adds up to form a big picture but one that can only be viewed from up close or far away. There is no middle viewpoint.

Thúy's language (in Fischman's translation, at least) is lean. She conveys much emotion and imagery in few words. Much of it is painful, of course, but there's a lot of resilience and love too. Although this is a short book pagewise, it is worth reading leisurely.

I can’t quite decide if it’s cheesy or exquisite. I laughed hard and often, wept quietly for a moment, read ravenously, and yelled in frustration at the narrator. (One of those did not happen. But I came close.) So I’ll go with exquisite.

The first third is by far the best: fast-paced, great buildup of tension, and gobsmacking descriptions of the orchestration that goes into producing a live weekend comedy show, the process and teamwork. Reading about professionals working smoothly together, ... it just thrills me in a way that I suppose only a nerd could understand. Beautiful writing, snappy dialog, realistic personal dynamics.

Second part was less perfect. It got a little tedious, but I understand why it was necessary buildup for the

Third part, which kind of derailed the book into pure-fantasy territory, but somehow I found myself swept away and not giving a fuck? I’m not normally like that, I swear, but Sittenfeld just hits all my buttons. I let myself enjoy it and am still basking a little in afterglow.

The entire book centers around attractive, smart, witty, talented, kind people—and full focus is given to all of those words. Including people, each one imperfect (some more neurotic than others, but that too is realistic). Each of those attributes is important. Focus also bounces effectively among different interpersonal relationships; Sittenfeld has a genius for seeing and describing personalities. There’s flirting, mindreading, second-guessing, awkwardness, insecurity, tentativeness, emotional complexity. As a card-carrying member of Overthinkers Anonymous, I was in heaven. There’s even a page or two on attachment theory, which I only reached after finishing my last book, the one I (re)read because it seemed like attachment theory was everywhere around me. Another sign from the gods, obviously.

A little too pat. A little too crisp. A little too perfect. And I don’t care; I loved it.

2nd reading, Jan 2024. Sometimes I just need to hear her voice; much like with Terry Pratchett.

2nd reading, Jan 2024. Sometimes I just need to hear her voice; much like with Terry Pratchett.

I can’t quite decide if it’s cheesy or exquisite. I laughed hard and often, wept quietly for a moment, read ravenously, and yelled in frustration at the narrator. (One of those did not happen. But I came close.) So I’ll go with exquisite.

The first third is by far the best: fast-paced, great buildup of tension, and gobsmacking descriptions of the orchestration that goes into producing a live weekend comedy show, the process and teamwork. Reading about professionals working smoothly together, ... it just thrills me in a way that I suppose only a nerd could understand. Beautiful writing, snappy dialog, realistic personal dynamics.

Second part was less perfect. It got a little tedious, but I understand why it was necessary buildup for the

Third part, which kind of derailed the book into pure-fantasy territory, but somehow I found myself swept away and not giving a fuck? I’m not normally like that, I swear, but Sittenfeld just hits all my buttons. I let myself enjoy it and am still basking a little in afterglow.

The entire book centers around attractive, smart, witty, talented, kind people—and full focus is given to all of those words. Including people, each one imperfect (some more neurotic than others, but that too is realistic). Each of those attributes is important. Focus also bounces effectively among different interpersonal relationships; Sittenfeld has a genius for seeing and describing personalities. There’s flirting, mindreading, second-guessing, awkwardness, insecurity, tentativeness, emotional complexity. As a card-carrying member of Overthinkers Anonymous, I was in heaven. There’s even a page or two on attachment theory, which I only reached after finishing my last book, the one I (re)read because it seemed like attachment theory was everywhere around me. Another sign from the gods, obviously.

A little too pat. A little too crisp. A little too perfect. And I don’t care; I loved it.

UPDATE, December 2023: reread because there’s an Attachment zeitgeist in the air; it has repeatedly come up in the past three weeks, in unrelated contexts, with friends from separate circles. This was by far the best book I’ve read on attachment, and damn, it still is. In the two years since I first read it I’ve practiced many of its recommendations (and, of course, neglected others). I’ve come to accept that much of my life is not fixable, but also that this is okay, that I still have the ability to become a better person regardless. Fern works from the premise that our primary relationship is with our Self. It’s not that everything else follows from that, just that our self-attachment is one crucial part of the system. This is a book for anyone who interacts with other humans in any degree. I realize the title will scare off some people, and that’s a shame.

Much has changed in the understanding of attachment since I first read Siegel many years ago; much has also changed in the acceptance and understanding of ethical nonmonogamy in the last few decades. This book starts off strong by assuming an informed reader, giving brief background while focusing more on new perspectives. It remains strong all the way through, offering respectful and insightful takes on presence, communication, relationship safety – what we all work on every day – and providing useful ideas on ways to look at challenges. Well-written, engaging, and mature.Four stars, adding a half because of the final section on secure attachment with Self, and rounding up to five because so much of it hit home so aptly. Much of this is material I know; but like all such, I just need to be reminded sometimes, or to see things a different way. And the clincher: I finished the book, and am writing this, one day after performing my every-year-or-two psychedelic tune-up, this time a solo ritual in the mountains with the intention (chosen months before even starting this book) of exploring my self-love. The final sections, which I read today, are giving me tools to work with.Like many of us, I am a work in progress; it has taken me a lifetime to learn to love better, and I expect it will take the rest of my lifetime to continue learning and improving. Much like planting the proverbial tree, the best time for me to have had this book was thirty years ago, but the second best time is right now.

Reviews suggested this was sweet. It was. But also lifeless and contrived. The characters go through their motions as the story requires, responding to stimuli, but I never got a sense of why or of who they are. Jane consistently addresses them by role — “the wife,” “the brother,” “the stepchild” — so this distancing is intentional, but why? She writes like she wants us to care for the characters, and she even interjects occasional PSAs on the preciousness of life and relationships, but it’s all Tell, no Show.

Kudos for originality and pacing: some fun creative ideas, with nicely done foreshadowing and reveals. Way too many loose ends and side plots that went nowhere, but hey, first work. Give her time.