Julia
I'm not sure what quirk of personality has led me to find the most exquisite expressions of how I feel about people, life, the universe, and the meaning of everything in the poetry of ancient Sufi mystics, but time and again, I find myself turning to either Daniel Ladinsky's translations of Hafiz, or Coleman Barks' translations of Rumi for inspiration. The back cover of this book has a good quip on Barks' skill: “His ear for the truly divine madness in Rumi's poetry is remarkable.” Rumi's irreverent, sometimes beautifully meandering, often funny, always graceful love poems to his god (indeed, to the universe) are not to be missed. This collection took me nearly a year to get through, because so many little pieces of it jump out to be savored before moving on to the next poem, stanza, or even line, but I know I'll be returning to it again and again. In the words of Jelaluddin Chelabi, the living descendant of Rumi's lineage, “Love is the religion, and the universe is the book.”
Given to me by a dear, dear friend who I now value even more for having opened my eyes to this wonderful resource! Emmons filled her book with amazing & inventive–yet not too complicated–recipes, has a great knowledge of world cuisine, and included tons of interesting sidebars to help illuminate the lesser known spices, veggies, grains, and little extras that make a vegetarian diet fantastic. LOVE it. Thanks, YB #1!
Well, gosh. In a lot of ways, I wish I'd known about this series so I could read it in bits and pieces, like Harry Potter. Because taken as a whole, read in less than a week, a lot of shit went down in these books. Crazy vampire shit. My reading pace, I will admit, may not have left me time to enjoy all the detail that was included given my fervor to figure out the plot. I stand by my opinion that the 3rd book is the most fun to read, but credit where credit is due, I never in five million years would have guessed the direction the 4th book took, so hats off to Meyer for that. All in all, if you need an airport read, a beach read, a read something that doesn't require a lot of thinking read, a moved across the country and broke up with your boyfriend read (who? me?), these books are your new best friends. Not quite Harry Potter (could anything be?), but close.
Yeah, yeah. I know. But it's a series! I can't not finish a series! Besides, the tortured love plot that picked up in the second book continued here, and that, believe me, was a good thing. I think, although I'll probably re-read all of them at some I-need-a-break-from-grad-school point, this is the one I'd be most likely to come back to, and I've read the 4th one now as well. Review on that coming shortly.
Let me be clear: this is a teen vampire romance. Yup, and I'm standing by it as a good page-turner. In fact, since I'm already on book three of four, it appears that I'll stand by several thousand pages of teen vampire romance. I read most of this by camping lantern in the Needles section of Canyonlands, because I couldn't wait to get back to civilization to finish. It is fluff, but fast-moving, interesting fluff. My one complaint is that the teenage heroine, who is obviously beautiful, smart, compassionate, and mature, is very insecure. LAME! Give me Anne of Green Gables, give me Hermione, give me Alanna the knight from Tamora Pierce's “Song of the Lioness” quartet (Anyone? Anyone? They were awesome...and had sex in them!) I used to read in middle school, but self-conscious and second-guessing Bella? Barf. However, the female vampires are badass, and this writer is Utahan who has captivated the whole damn state with this series, and as new Utahan, I'm going to play along.
Bottom line: If you're still grieving that Harry Potter is over, this series has the backing of over 10 clinical psychology grad students at U of U, which is how I got hooked, and we're all supposed to be intelligent, right? I'd give it a try.
Right. Anyway. The teen vampire romance. Part Deux. This one goes up a star because it was captivating enough for me to finish in one night. While not exactly literature (well...not at all literature), anything that induces 540+ pages of reading in less than 12 hours should get some credit for being addictive. Plus, while Bella, the heroine, remains aggravatingly insecure, the love plot thickens! In ways that are spicier and way more fun than the first book. The author is Mormon, so I won't be getting the hot vampire sex I'd really like to be reading about, but I'm sure there's some fan fiction that's positively filthy.
When you all (yes, you–my mostly East Coast friends reading this review) come visit me in Utah, and we traipse around the state finding great hikes and tasty restaurants, this is the guide I will likely use. So you might as well buy a copy now. Great state, and great guidebook publishing house. Love the descriptions, love the “hidden recommendations,” love the layout.
This was a very, very excellent first novel. But certainly a first novel. I can't say there are a ton of books with a more interesting premise; Truong takes a historical tidbit, that Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas had a Vietnamese cook while in Paris, and tells the story of his childhood, immigration, and struggle with his identity (he's gay) while caring for the two most famous lesbians of the decade. The best part of Truong's often sensuous writing is her ability to channel Binh's expressive love of food as a medium through which he can express his feelings, as he struggles to connect with other men (who don't share his native tongue) in first French, and then English. The only part I struggled with was Truong's sometimes confusing switches from one era of Binh's life to another. I'm generally pretty good at handling that in literature, and I don't know if the jumpiness was intended to convey both Binh's unease and nod to Stein's famous writing style, but it doesn't quite work with the overall fluidity of the novel. Still, I'd read more of her work, for sure. This is a good book for anyone who loves food, as well.
At least for me personally, this was a really, really important book to read. I've been thinking a lot lately about how I want to be in the world–what choices I want to make, where my priorities are. Pollan does a truly stellar job of exploring the complexities of the choices we are confronted with regarding food in this bountiful country, not to mention how to reconcile the industrial with the idealistic in a way that is practical yet honorable. The history of the evolution of humans and domesticated plants and animals was relatively new territory for me, but certainly much appreciated, his general conversational tone never allows the topic to be dumbed-down yet keeps it accessible, and his food writing is often sublime. I think it's rare to read a book and be conscious, after reading it, of having what you learned affect decisions in your day-to-day life. The Omnivore's Dilemma has certainly done that for me, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in thinking a little more deeply about food.
Jill Soloway, who wrote for Six Feet Under, is obviously very compelling when creating characters for HBO shows. Although at times she's VERY funny in her memoir, at other times her humor falls flat. Let me compare: I would have read a David Sedaris book of this length in an afternoon. “Tiny Ladies” took me a week. There wasn't anything that grabbed me enough to keep me hooked beyond my general feelings of “gotta finish a book once you start.” The reason this book is worth reading is that I have the suspicion that Soloway discussing her wacky and sometimes painful childhood, zany friends, and general life misadventures in person would be sidesplitting, she is undoubtedly a thoughtful and energetic feminist, and I would like to be her friend. Jill, are you on goodreads? You seem awesome!
This is a page-turner if there ever was one. So much going on in this book–a fascinating account of circus life in Depression-era America, for which a lot of really excellent research was done, and a sometimes deeply saddening account of aging in America as we do it now, in nursing homes and “assisted living.” The circus chapters really sparkle; they are action-packed yet still wholly believable. It's not the deepest book ever (some of the characters lack a little depth), but I'm totally willing to forgive that because after all the excitement, I wasn't hoping for a happy ending, but got one anyway :)
As you might guess, my yoga practice has helped me become even more aware of how important I think a holistic approach to health is. And I think that, in a vast majority of respects, American attitudes (often including my own) about food, cuisine, nutrition, health, bodies, and the interactions between all those things are the antitheses of holistic. So, I'm obsessed with Michael Pollan because he presents a simple, logical, yet compassionate possible answer on how to allow food to make you both happy and well: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. It says that right on the cover, but like Omnivore's Dilemma, Pollan expands his guidelines in the book with humor, research, and an investigative journalist's eye. Don't read this book if you want to be told WHAT food to eat (or what food you should feel bad about eating). Read this book if you want to learn a kinder, gentler (dare I say exponentially healthier?) way HOW to eat food.
Given that Allende's style is magical realism, I'll be cheesy and chalk my five stars I can't completely explain to the whimsical (magical, if you will, haha) style of her prose. Of course I love a book with strong female characters, and Allende provides that in spades, but it's also a pretty interesting reminder of Chile's troubled 20th century history (los deseparecidos of the CIA-backed junta, anyone?). Allende makes you feel deeply for all the family members we meet of this multi-generational saga, and is also someone who seems always capable of capturing a sense of wonder about even the more mundane aspects of life. Tore through this LONG book in two days on a Mexican vacation, and if you're looking to be transported, I highly recommend it.
Do you ever read a book and spend the whole time wishing you had written it? Yeah, hot damn do I wish I was Ariel Levy. This book is a funny, smart, nuanced, and culturally aware look at how “girl power” has gone very, very wrong. This book is everything a sex-positive feminist (which is certainly how I identify) could want for help responding to people who want to know why the Pussycat Dolls aren't a good example of female empowerment. As Levy so eloquently says, “Raunch culture isn't about opening our minds to the possibilities and mysteries of sexuality. It's about endlessly reiterating one particular–and particularly commercial–shorthand for sexiness.” The only point where I felt she needed to tread more carefully was her discussion of porn stars. I don't think trotting out the old speculation that many of them may have suffered from sexual abuse is doing anyone any good. On that, she should have stuck with confirmable facts, like the disturbing one that although Jenna Jameson considers herself powerful, she still can't watch any of her own scenes. I finished this in two days, and would recommend it to anyone interested in a more in-depth analysis of the pop culture we ingest daily.
The entire time I was growing up, my feminist lawyer mother had a subscription to Vogue. I can't completely explain it myself, but woman does love her shoes. Anyway, I spent elementary school reading Steingarten articles for the mag, where he is still the food columnist. My conclusion for this book is that he is probably best in small doses. Like, monthly doses. But, if you've never read any of his stuff before, I'd check this out in one-essay-at-a-time stints. Steingarten is obviously brilliant (like, went to Harvard Law brilliant, got an order of French merit for his writing on French cuisine brilliant), and very funny (particularly when reporting on his wife's reactions to his crazy food experiments; when his quest for the perfect french fry left their NYC loft full of 100 pounds of potatoes and three deep-fryers, she muttered while walking past his mess, “Smile and the world smiles with you. Fry and you fry alone.”). And I think he's at his best when he convincingly argues that pretty much every dietitian and nutritionist ever wants to suck all the fun out of eating (he is side-splitting when talking about the toxic potential of salads), and champions instead for everything in moderation and that pleasure in the preparation and consumption of food is a critical part of true health. I think it's just that over a 300-page span, each individual essay gets lost, and the cleverness, which is definitely there in each stand-alone essay, starts to seem twee from over-crowding. If I could do it again, I'd use the index to make this the funniest reference book I've ever read–or hope to read–about food.
I'm not sure I adore this quite as much as Beloved or Sula, but am so glad to have read it. Coming back to [b:Toni Morrison 6149 Beloved Toni Morrison http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1165555299s/6149.jpg 736076] after a couple years since my last read of hers, I was just blown away by a lot of this book. Reading this really made me wish I'd taken a course in college on black masculinity (did UVa offer such a thing?)...I think all feminists interested in the intersectionality of race, class, and gender (which has been coming up again and again on feministing, lately, as it should) would benefit from reading this. At times Morrison's portraits of decay in rural America throughout the novel reminded me of the best parts of Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom: slow, slightly mystical, and walking the fine line between chilling and uplifting.
So I'm going to have to check out more from Hidden Travel guides...if this book was any example, they're fantastic. Not only did Harris write far and away the best (and one of the few series of) walking tours of the major Mayan ruin sites (like, we're talking good enough that you can skip the tour guides), but he really sought out the unusual in everything from restaurants to beaches. Very, very useful. My one complaint is that the index isn't as extensive as a big brand (Fodor's, Frommer's, etc) index.
Useful for things other than the “Hidden Cancun.” Fodor's does a good job with normal guide book type stuff (prices, hours, blah de blah), and I definitely used the maps in here the most, but I much prefer the cultural sections of other guide books. If you never read those, this would be a fine all-purpose resource. Good index.
Let me be clear, ya'll: I am reviewing this so that you will use it when you COME VISIT ME IN SALT LAKE CITY. PLEASE. And because they called my neighborhood in SLC (Sugarhouse) up-and-coming and hip. La la la.
But seriously, while I'm not crazy about Fodor's for foreign countries, this certainly does the trick for stateside travel–I've been brushing up on my Mormon knowledge (no, not to BECOME one, just to be better informed), and now that I feel like I'm slightly more knowledgeable than the average bear, I was pleased to learn even more in the section on Mormonism in this guide, and appreciated the writers' light touch and sense of humor. Also, Fodor's does have good restaurant reviews.
COME VISIT ME.
Dirty girl that I am, I almost wish this book had been condensed into the chapters on the sex organs (preciously named “Madonna del Latte” and “Privy Members”). Which were excellent. There were certainly gems in other sections of the book–informative tidbits on why we have back pain, attitudes towards hair, the bogusness of palmistry–and I LOVED how snarky he was about Freud, with other good jabs at the occasionally absurd attitude of patriarchy towards various elements of the female body, but once in a while his quirky sense of humor got a little too quirky. While in general it's fascinating to hear the skips and stops a quick mind makes (he's a positive genius with selecting funny quotes), once in a while it was a little disjointed. Don't spend too much time on it, and you'll remember some good cocktail factoids and let the rest slide.
Funnily enough, I don't particularly care for several of the poems that Boland is most famous for. However, this is one of those rare cases where the quotes on the outside of the book from reviewers are spot on...in particular, the one that mentioned “its serpentine strategy of memoir lifted into epiphany.” How true! Take the care poets give to each word in a poem, and multiply that into a novel. Some of the prose is just fantastically beautiful. Of course, Boland's struggles with reconciling her gender's history as the object of Irish poetry with her own attempts to create new poetic objects is also incredibly interesting from a feminist standpoint. It always makes me hopeful to read about intelligent women who truly own their feminisms.
Less stars because, sometimes, it is a little slow. I wished the parts where I felt absolutely engrossed in the beauty of her musings were closer together via some careful editing. Still, if you have any interest in feminism, poetry, or Ireland, a thought-provoking read.
Hmf. I mean, the basics are alright, but I don't need so many goddamn pictures. I'm going to SEE the country, alright? I would rather they expand the “about the region” section and shrink the silly colorful maps. I borrowed this from a friend, and usually get guide books from the library instead of buying, but yeah...either way, I think different companies do a much better job (Lonely Planet is still my reigning fave, although I'm eager to try another Hidden Planet guide after my experience with their Yucatan edition).
Is it bad that my fave part of this book was the ridiculous sparkly font on the cover? Really, though, despite the ostentatious and fun-loving cover, I liked the book, too. I would place it in the category of “definitely a first novel,” for its faults, but it had strong points, too. Las Vegas figures as a character in this book–at times shimmering in the evening sun, at times grimy and dust-covered–which was one of the things I liked best. Bock covers the dissolution of a marriage the best, I think, and although all the character's narratives are skillfully woven together, you end up caring more about some than about others, and not intentionally on his part, I believe. Still, overall enjoyable, and interesting to read to compare to ALLLL the hype he's gotten.
Best. Art. Coffee. Table. Book. Ever.
My dear dear dear friend Meredith gave me this book as a Christmas present, and I've been savoring it bit by bit since then. I wish desperately I could have seen the exhibit the book is based upon at the Brooklyn Museum. As a former art history minor, I was always frustrated on how you can get a really good background in art before 1990, but learning about truly contemporary art (let alone contemporary feminist art!) is rarely done through coursework. This book did wonders to fill that void in my understanding.
Linda Nochlin and Maura Reilly both wrote totally hot intros about the necessity of the plurality of feminisms–at a time when it feels like most older feminists are complaining about the younger Obama-supporting ingrates, it's especially refreshing to hear Nochlin reflect on her changing understanding of feminism(s). The global part is addressed comprehensively: seven different women from seven different regions of the world were invited to discuss the work of female artists their localities have produced, and how feminism has interacted with cultural values and historical events in those parts of the world. REALLY interesting stuff, and many gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous color plates to complete the book.
My one minor complaint (hence, four stars, not five) is while I generally really enjoyed what the individual essayists had to say, a few of them (I won't mention names) slipped into what I like to call Butlerism–the belief that you can write like Judith Butler. Only Butler can write like Butler, and god bless her for it, but if you attempt it, you'll probably sound like a bit of an asshole, and would have been more effective getting your point across in less complicated sentences.
Nonetheless, overall, tra la la for women artists!