Rob
This book was originally published as The Psychology, rather than Design, of Everyday Things. It's pretty heavy on the psychology side, and I was hoping for more on the design side.
Where the author does talk about design principles, it does a good job of abstracting the details into principles, and it does a good job of stripping away the things that don't matter. It's just not really the book I thought and hoped it would be.
This is a book with a pretty specific audience. It's nonfiction, about punctuation – not grammar, not usage generally, but punctuation. It's basically an ode to the stickler. It's pretty short, at a hair over 200 pages, which is for the best. If it went on much longer you wouldn't want to continue.
Each chapter is about a specific punctuation mark, or occasionally two (colon and semicolon), covering the rules about when and how to use each mark. But it's presented mostly in the form of funny essays, so it's not like reading a textbook. (You'd never try to read Strunk and White cover to cover... would you?) You'll also get little asides like the etymology of “O'” in Irish names.
Worth noting that the author is British and writes based on British English, with the occasional note about how it's done in American English, so you'll want to make sure you don't observe the wrong lessons for your side of the pond.
Really great. I've meant to read this for a long time, but was prompted to finally start it by the release of the Hulu series and the associated press. It's very readable, fascinating, and utterly horrifying, not least because it isn't all that hard to see the seeds of such a future being sown, far more now than in 1985 when it was originally published. (Goodreads says 1998. Goodreads is wrong.)
Everything I can say about it is trite and has been said before. It is a classic and a warning and it is very much worth your time.
I bounced off this pretty hard the first time I tried to read it, but decided to give it another chance and I'm glad I did. Seminal sci-fi masterpiece that creates an imaginative world. At this point, I think Dune is so subsumed into the collective literary consciousness that it's hard to talk about, because so many people are at least familiar with it. References to it abound in popular culture, so much so that even I could recognize them without having read it.
Two chief complaints:
1. The writing is inconsistent. Mostly, it's fine. Occasionally, especially at the beginning, it's unacceptably expository, with characters discussing things that they should all know perfectly well for the benefit of the reader.
2. Paul is borderline omniscient, except when he's not. You can see the roots of R. Scott Bakker's Kellhus here with the Bene Gesserit training, but when it's convenient plotwise, those abilities suddenly don't seem as powerful. Little explanation is generally offered.
Loved it anyway. Definitely worth a read.
Pretty dark for YA. Not a fan of this one, for several reasons. Not a lot happening, for one thing; I know it's YA, and I know it's the first in a series, but there's just not much story in it. Poor characterization, oversimplistic writing; I'm conscious that YA isn't going to be the same as something aimed at a more adult audience, but I've seen it done better by the YA authors I loved growing up. I'm idly curious about the true nature of the Tripods – though I have my guesses after book 1 – but not enough to keep reading the series.
First book in quite a while that has really grabbed me. It's exactly the kind of book I like – one that plops you down in the middle of a large, well-established set of rules different from the ones you're used to – but it's an excellent example of the type.
What stands out to me is the brutality. It's never cruel just to be cruel, but it – or rather its characters – pull no punches. To be clear, though, a lot of modern work in fantasy and even other media seeks to distinguish itself by what it would like the audience to believe is realism and grit, but which is really just mean-spiritedness for its own sake, and this doesn't fall into that trap.
Great building of its own mythology and systems. Strongly recommended among other recent fantasy, from which it stands out wonderfully.
EDIT: Why did I only give this four stars my first go-round? This book is great.
Worth a read unless you're already headlining international festivals, I think. A decent “getting your feet wet” guide for newbies, answering a lot of basic questions, and for sure this is aimed largely at that crowd; to that end, Morse spends significant time explaining some real basic stuff that I think is beneficial, whereas trying to learn that stuff “in the wild,” so to speak, could result in either some embarrassing problems or in being mocked by people you ask. There are a few suggestions in here that I think are really great even for the more experienced crowd, though, even if much of it will be a retread for that audience.
I started reading this book to figure out how to deal with a problematic colleague. That situation has since resolved itself, so I'm unable to speak directly to the effectiveness of the advice. I like a lot of the ideas; some of them might be hard to get others to buy into.
One thing that did bother me a bit: they used example situations to demonstrate that their techniques work, but... those situations and conversations are made up wholesale. Sometimes they were persuasive, and you can see how a conversation might go that way, but other times, those conversations can seem unrealistic and overly pat.
I read this because I'm gearing up to start DJing social dances (that is, dances for people who dance a specific style of partner dancing). A lot of the advice in it, though I don't doubt it's good advice, is about things that probably won't ever affect me – I'm not a club DJ spinning electronic music for a chemically-altered crowd and I'm not looking to become an internationally recognized name who jets to Ibiza to play out. In spite of that, I really liked this book, for several reasons.
- It's thorough. It doesn't address my situation much directly, but there's plenty in here for me, and a lot more for most DJs.
- It's preparatory. I feel much more comfortable and ready post-read.
- It's fun. Light, witty writing.
- It's no-bullshit. It gets to the point and doesn't snow you.
The authors' love of music comes through loud and clear too. If you're a DJ, or want to be, because you love music, and I hope you are, you're in good company.
It's a small thing, but I really enjoyed some of the side quotes from famous DJs.
It is a product of its time, and some details are a little out-of-date. It talks mainly about vinyl and CDJs – both of which are still in regular use, don't get me wrong. It does talk about digital DJing and MP3s, but it refers to things like Audiogalaxy, which hasn't existed for maybe 15 years. It doesn't mention current, popular DJing software packages – no Traktor, no Serato, no Ableton – because they didn't really exist at the time. You'll definitely need to dip a toe in elsewhere to get current info. (I use Traktor and I like it, if you're looking for a recommendation.) But most of the information is still on point.
Liked this a lot, I'm almost surprised how much. It's the (fictional) memoir of a (fictional) Presbyterian minister who claims to have fallen down a chasm in Scotland down to a river, and to have been rescued by the Devil himself. That's the book jacket pitch, and of course it's the main event, but I was a bit surprised at what a small portion of the book it is. Well-drawn characters and of course the question asked by Mack's fictional contemporaries is the question posed to the reader: Is Mack mad, lying, or somehow telling the truth?
Quite readable and oddly compelling.
Not very impressed with this one. It came highly recommended, but I found it shallow, skating by on the shock value its author believes his choice of vocabulary has. I kept waiting for the part where Sutton dished out all the good advice he was promising, and could hardly believe it when I realized the book was ending, it having offered so little.
Here's the advice: You're probably a jerk sometimes even though you think you aren't, and you should stop. When the problem is someone else, try to tune it out until you can find a new job.
There. That was a lot faster than reading this. The most useful advice I got out of it was to monitor my own behavior more closely. I don't recommend this one.
Really enjoyed this. Pretty solid story in its own right, and it's pretty rare for a book so steeped in Islam to come to my (or mainstream, really) attention. I'm glad it did. Not so many new (to me) frontiers left to discover these days.
Several times while reading, something struck me as strange, and I realized that it only seemed strange because of my lack of familiarity; recast in more familiar terms, most of it became totally normal, and I realized I needed to recalibrate.
The story involves a fair bit of computing; it isn't all practical, but it's plainly written by someone who understands what they're writing about, which is so rare in creative media.
I haven't read as much this year as I'd like, and it's partly because some of what I've read hasn't pulled my attention back to it, so that I wanted, when I wasn't reading, to go read. This did.
I don't know if I can describe how much I loved this book. What a superb accomplishment.
The Goodreads blurb describes Twenty as a cookbook, which is sort of true. It does have recipes, and it is about how to cook, but I think that description is a terrible disservice to it. I wouldn't like to have to describe it in one sentence, but if I had to, I would say that it's not so much about how to cook as it is about how to cook better.
The basic structure of the book, as you're probably already aware, is a set of the twenty (mostly) distinct techniques that Ruhlman regards as the essential techniques of a well-rounded cook. We can debate whether “well-rounded” is the right term – initially I wrote “complete,” but I suspect an absolute is inappropriate – but I think it's approximately on target.
Ruhlman begins by explaining what each technique comprises, delves into the theory of why you would choose to use that technique along with some nuances, and then provides several recipes that use that technique, so that you can put theory into practice. Recipes here are an educational tool, a lab, a practicum.
Twenty is a lot of things, but most of all it's blueprint for self-improvement, and I value that very highly. I found it educational and also inspirational. I don't know that this is where I'd recommend a new cook start, although you certainly could work through the chapters and recipes and learn a lot; there are some important things to know – like safe knife technique, for example, and lots of others. I think a new cook also needs a gentler introduction. My recommendation for someone who doesn't cook already remains Bittman's How To Cook Everything: The Basics.
The audience I'd suggest for this book is basically people like me: people who already cook, but are seeking to elevate their game to the next level. For that audience I can't recommend Twenty enough. A remarkable achievement, and one that will help me, personally, to improve and change the way I think about cooking.
Thoroughly enjoyable. A light read, nothing world-changing, about a bookstore clerk's investigation into the unusual clientele of the unusual bookstore where he takes employment; I don't want to talk too much about the plot, since the enjoyment is in the protagonist's exploration.
The finest quality of the book is its prose. The author turns a phrase wonderfully. The writing is very modern, and here I want to highlight another excellent trait: it deals occasionally with very current technology, and in many other books this sort of thing is very forced, and sometimes makes me all but certain the writer hasn't the faintest idea what they're talking about. Not so here. Sloan writes about the technological aspects with facility, rendering them well for a technically-inclined audience and simultaneously accessible – I think – to those not so inclined. This is a rare feat. It's very genuine.
If I have any complaint it would be the rendering of Kat Potente, in that she feels a bit like nerd wish fulfillment: a brilliant, pretty girl who's into the protagonist. But she's also a very strong, smart female character, so there's that.
Quite liked this. A nice, well-written summer read.
I don't know why this took me almost six months to read. It's 200 pages.
Very PoMo, no narrative to speak of. Beautiful prose. Mostly Marco Polo describing boatloads of cities to Kublai Khan. Individual cities' descriptions are quite short. A theme or themes do emerge, but as there's not a clear narrative thread, I didn't have a hook that made me want to pick it up and read more. I guess that's why it took six months. I don't read a lot of postmodern lit, so this might be a me problem.
Better than most comedians' books. Actually part humor, part sociology, and part advice column. Mainly about how technology and online dating have modified social norms. Feels a little like the jokes and the serious advice step on each other's toes sometimes. But I enjoyed it and found it surprisingly insightful.
I'm sorry to say I wasn't very impressed by this.
It had such an interesting premise: an island, subject to its own unique brand of natural disaster, the Discharge Clouds that have a strange and inexplicable effect on the residents. Harkaway uses it for a great setup, an island doomed by international consent and useful, therefore, as cover for skulduggery on a grand scale.
Unfortunately, he doesn't do much of interest with it beyond the setup. The writing is lacking, and he damages one of his major characters by trying too hard. The kid talks like a caricature if the Internet: zomg. Full of win. And so on.
I loved Gone-Away World; I'm sorry to say this isn't up to that standard.
Fantastic and sad. Easy to see why it's a classic and I regret that it took me so long to read it. It wasn't part of my high school reading, and it's been on my to-read list for years; it was bumped up in my priority list when a friend posted Jem's brief exchange with Atticus after the trial, on Facebook in the wake of the Ferguson situation. So glad I picked it up.
An old YA favorite. I re-read this as something of a light palate cleanser after my previous book took me months to get through. It was out of print until recently, and I picked it up for the find memories when it became available again.
Diana Wynne Jones was one of my favorite authors growing up. Charming, richly imaginative book that defies description. It's modern-day, but centers on the machinations of a family of seven siblings who run the town in which it's set in secret, each responsible for – and gaining the bounty of – different aspects of the town. The main characters, however, are a mostly normal family suffering through the fallout from the doings of those seven siblings.
This book is written for a YA audience, of course, but it's very readable, and fun to revisit in a fit of nostalgia. Don't think I ever read a DWJ book I didn't enjoy, at any age.
Not all of the mechanics are ever truly explained. I think that used to bother me a bit. These days I kind of like it that way.
Very mixed feelings about this one.
It took me four months to the day to get through this. It was never bad, per se; I got to 70% complete fairly quickly, and then stalled out for a good long time. I have a rule for myself that I'm allowed to quit a book partway through if I find I'm not going back to read it and I'm just not feeling any drive to, but I did want to finish this. Just not enough to, you know, do it.
This is something of a Southern Gothic classic, the debut novel by the author of Sophie's Choice, and concerns itself with the gradual, tragic implosion of a southern Virginia family. It starts out readable enough, but as the family becomes increasingly in disarray, so did the prose. Dialogue especially often felt unnatural to me.
There are precious few sympathetic characters, which probably accounts for the difficulty I had getting through. I found myself increasingly misanthropic as I progressed through, but mostly just felt bad for the whole family.
The highlight of the book, so to speak, is the section at nearly the very end, told from Peyton's perspective. That is, it's the best written passage in the book, not that it's a pleasant experience. It's so crushingly depressing it was hard to get through – heartbreaking, brilliantly awful stuff.
I don't know that I can say I recommend this one. It's at its best when it's at its worst.
I have mixed feelings about this book, which seems to be a common theme for me and Gilman: some fascinating ideas, somewhat flawed in execution. It's a period piece set at the end of the 19th century in England, in a world where real magic is hidden behind a veneer of fakery and cheap charlatanism. Not wanting to recap the plot, I'll just say that the book intermingles that magic and science fiction with each other.
Looking back on the story now I quite like it. But as a reading experience it started to drag around the halfway mark. Not always – in fact, the last sections were gripping. I tend to think Gilman's pacing suffers from this problem generally. Some people seem to feel similarly but about different parts; I've seen more than one person complain that it was great once it got going but took too long to do so.
I found the ending more than a bit disappointing. Appropriate, perhaps, but disappointing.