Andrew
I did not like this book. It is, from my understanding of it, one of the most self-important and ideologically confused books I've ever encountered. It's funny at times, maybe thought-provoking, but ultimately doomsaying. Certainly, aspects of this book mimic aspects of our world (especially the near-worship of capitalism and the men who make it work (Ford bless us)), but overall much of it just feels silly. Maybe I'm not smart enough; or maybe I'm just too young and liberal. Here's hoping 1984 is better.
Thoroughly enjoyed the beginning and ending of this, but became wholly lost in the middle. I had so much going on that I was never able just to sit down and listen to large portions of this at one time, which is a real shame, because in the few instances that I was able to devote much time to it I enjoyed it immensely.
Some of these are really beautiful. I wish the Kindle édition better incorporated the endnotes and footnotes, but that's a pretty minor complaint; because of the formatting, I was made to really just focus on the poems themselves, which was nice, although I do wish each poem had a brief introduction from the translator that could help sort out issues of clarity.
This book is not perfect or near perfect; the 5 stars just reflect my enjoyment of it. This book has every good and bad writing tic that you might find in any Stephen King books, and it's way too long, and it has stuff in it that doesn't need to be there (anyone who's read it knows). But it's nevertheless beautiful, and if you like King (if you can see beyond his glaring flaws), then check this out.
That said. I'll never read/listen to this ever again (but that's just because of how long it is).
I hope to one day write something half as scary as this.
It's been a long time since I really delved into this book–and phew! Mostly geographical information, lists of kings/kingdoms, only a little bit of narrative, and then a big speech by Joshua. I suspect (although I've not researched this) that Joshua is partitioned into five sections that mimic the structure of the Torah (Genesis-Deuteronomy), but this makes for a bit of a dull read; also, the King James translation doesn't really bring anything here until Joshua's speech at the end, which is quite beautiful.
Years ago, I spent months listening to a preacher go through this book verse-by-verse. After a few years, he had not finished the book and had to take a break; this left a strange relationship between me and Acts, which made me dread listening to it since I've not read deeply in the book since then. I'm pleasantly surprised to say that not only did I enjoy the narrative immensely, but I enjoyed the sound of the King James translation. Very pleasant reading!
Really beautiful. One of the great speeches in all of literature. I'm a sucker for long-form speeches like this, where a person just lays out everything they think in an organized manner. There's also neat ancient near-eastern structural and genre things going on here, in terms of how contracts and covenants worked.
Did Moses write it? I don't know. Not sure if it matters. Like Ecclesiastes, this is more likely a book written in the sytle of Moses. Some of the grammar and vocabulary are very late-Hebrew, denoting the post-Babylonian period; which could indicate either editorial changes or late-authorship (and late-authorship could be based on long-standing oral traditions of things Moses said), but neither changes the effect of the book.
Basically, Deuteronomy is a neat book, and the KJV translation is really beautiful.
Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.
(Deuteronomy 6:4-5)
Try as hard as I might, short stories never do it for me. Overall, this was lackluster and most of the stories were uninteresting or outright (in my opinion) bad. The titular story, “Together We Kill,” was the only one worth anything, in my opinion; but it was also the punchiest and had the best ending.
Mark's Jesus gets stuff done, yells at people, berates the rich, and tells the religious elite to get lost. A lot of American Christians would lose their minds if this Jesus walked into their church on any random Sunday morning. The language here (referring to the KJV translation) is of course beautiful; one of my favorite verses in all of scripture is in this book, and the KJV translators rendered it beautifully:
Jesus said unto him, “If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.”
And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”
Christopher Glyn's Jesus is angry and I kind of dig it.
Because of my seminary work, I'm maybe more familiar with Matthew than any other book of the Bible, and I definitely think the King James translation is clumsy in this book, leaving a lot to be desired. But there are definitely iconic passages here that still resound down the ages, their echo being heard in modern and better translations. For instance, let's be real and admit that when most people think of the Lord's Prayer (or maybe the Sermon on the Mount, in general), it's the KJV that they hear in their head.
It's pretty stunning that, in the grand tradition of teaching epic poetry in the west, that Job has not been taught alongside works like Beowulf or the Homeric epics. It's a stunning work, and the KJV is breathtakingly rendered into English, even if at the sacrifice of some cultural nuances. God's arrival from the whirlwind is one of the great character entrances in all of literature, hands down.
I've decided to read/listen to the entire King James translation of the Bible for a number of reasons. Not only have I never read it in its entirety, but it's also one of the fundamental backbones of western literature. I have quibbles with the translation (there are some egregious translation errors in it, both intentional and otherwise), but it is obviously beautifully rendered from a linguistic/literary point of view. If I wanted to study Genesis as a piece of ancient near-eastern writing, I'd pick up a different translation, probably Robert Alter's or the New Revised Standard Version, but the KJV is bedrock English literature. Absolutely a fundamental piece for anyone who wants to grasp modern western writing and philosophy.
A goofy mess that occasionally hits the nail on the head. While arguably better than what Kropotkin called “Authoritarian Communism,” his own “Anarchist Communism” is at worst self defeating, at best silly. He claims that it will be a governmentless society, driven by cooperative action and decision, that will push society forward and provide the needs of every person; yet, he throws his hands up in the air for representational government. What exactly is the difference between the communal election of representatives versus the communal selection of guild leaders? Kropotkin has merely created bureaucracy with more steps and less internal communication.
However, the chapters on how scientific advancements should eradicate poverty are just as provocative today as they were when Kropotkin original wrote. The simple fact is, we've come much farther technologically than he ever could have imagined in terms of automation and technology, and yet rampant poverty is still the norm. He is correct that the greed of a few rich people is ultimately what holds back society. He's also, I believe, correct that most people would gladly work jobs if the jobs were meaningful, fairly compensated, and fairly scheduled. His utopian bent appeals to me, but lacks the thoughtfulness of more modern approaches, with concepts like UBI and mixed economies.
It's all the expropriation stuff that's concerning to me. I just don't have the communist blood in me; especially if representative government has to be thrown out along with ownership of production. I'm a socialist perhaps, but a democratic socialist, perhaps; but certainly one who believes the freedom of well-regulated markets (ie, capitalism with the tack and saddle firmly affixed to it), run by a representative government, with a well-educated citizenry, is the best way to go. But that government should also spend its money bettering the lives of its citizens, not its billionaires. If that government is not seeking to improve the well-being of its citizenry, then those folk should get up and throw a fit, which seems very democratic to me.
The problem then is not capitalism, but the rampant, unfettered crony-capitalism at work in the world today. Many European nations have achieved systems of functional democratic capitalism, with heavily state-funded systems of social welfare and service. And they all have representative governments. There is no need today for private health insurance, or the privatization of communal goods like the electric grid or water services, when living in a highly developed, highly wealthy nation. When living in the richest country in the history of the world, a country that routinely spends money on defense while cutting spending on social welfare programs, the only reason poverty continues to exist beyond the absolute margins of society is because the wealthy have decided exploitation is better for their bottom dollar. A well-fed, well-tended, well-educated citizenry is unlikely to be exploited because they not only know better but expect better.
Kropotkin and I agree that authoritarian government is one of the greatest plagues upon humanity, we just disagree with what to do about it (and perhaps disagree on what constitutes authoritarianism). He says less government achieved by force of the people; I say better government by the same measure. Certainly, in the day-to-day lives of the average American, the state does not come into play very often beyond the standardized laws that we interact with (seat belts, speed limits, taxes). The government need not be abolished but reformed, quickly and heavily, with a vicious hand that has the average person in favor rather than the elite. This requires the citizenry to vote in their own best interests however, which is sometimes difficult to convince them to do (because in American exceptionalism, according to the American dream, everyone is a kind of Schrodinger's millionaire, should only they work hard enough).
I admire Kropotkin for what he's aiming for, but find him kind of silly in how he goes about his arguments. Really, in The Conquest of Bread, there are no arguments at all, just rhapsodizing about a utopian society that should exist but doesn't, a society that will magically spring into existence without any kind of organizational force or forethought, if only the working-class would spring up and throw down the shackles of organize society. But the simple fact is anarchism will have its limits in terms of development because that society will be inefficient. Kropotkin makes good moral arguments but not reasonable ones, and beyond that never explains how his ideal society is to be achieved without any kind of centralized communication or regulatory system in place. Karl Marx, even for all the warts and problems with his brand of communism and theories thereof (some of which even he disavowed later in life), was not only a more compelling and convincing figure, but a better writer.
With every passing word, The Divine Comedy becomes more and more impenetrable. The first part, Inferno, is magnificent and even at times funny. The second, Purgatorio, is where things begin to fall apart; around halfway through this second section, the book turns into musing of philosophical ideas, long speeches by characters extolling their ideas (Dante's ideas) on universal truths, how the universe works, and by Hell, Purgatory, and Life are arranged as they are. The third part, Paradiso, is only more of these long speeches and dialogues, but lacks the element that made the first two parts so entertaining: Virgil, the Roman poet, who serves as Dante's guide through hell and purgatory, who is not allowed to usher him through heaven because he was a pagan (although the best sort of pagan). The third section replaces Virgil with Beatrice, a woman with whom Dante seems to be in love (more on this in a second).
Fundamentally, this book is an excuse for Dante to make fun of people he doesn't like (by putting them in the various, deeper sections of hell and purgatory) and to laud people he does like (by putting them, like Virgil, in the “best” part of hell, or on planets in the solar system more close to God's throne). Really, this is just Dante's way of poking fun at contemporary politics and near history to his day, and when the purpose seems to be satire and mockery the poem works exceptionally well. This all comes to a head when Beatrice is introduced, a woman from Dante's real life whom he was smitten with before she (apparently) died, who guides Dante through heaven, is more beautiful than anything else he has ever seen, and is revealed to be a woman so holy that she gets to stand next to the Virgin Mary.
That's right, this whole book is just a setup for Dante to simp for a dead lady. SPOILERS, right? I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations has passed on this thin.
I didn't hate this, but I didn't love the last two-thirds of it, either. It gets three stars because the Inferno was a ton of fun. Also, this book is illuminating where the medieval worldview is concerned. The various theological themes, the way the zones of each of the three books are separated, the depictions and imagery, the alignment and ordination of the solar system...it's all fundamental stuff, if one want to try and make sense of medieval theology or culture. For that reason, I'm definitely glad that I listened to this. Also, the narrator was incredible.
I want to like this more because I want to be well-read and smart. But maybe being smart is overrated.
I've never been an avid reader of memoir. As a genre, it simply holds little interest for me. But this book is superb, drawing a clear (but concise and brief) picture of what it is like to experience having your own country treat you like a criminal and imprison you when you are only a child and for no reason other than your heritage. The final chapters of this book are wonderful.
Admittedly skipped around in this, skimming and focusing on the essays that most interested me. Probably read a third of the book and skimmed the rest. Truth be told, I don't think this book is very good. I found very little that illuminated Ang Lee's films in here, only half-argued connections to various philosophers who are either dubiously or exhaustively explained (there's no in between). Some of the films crop up again and again (Brokeback Mountain is in nearly every other essay), meanwhile others seem entirely absent (Pushing Hands only merits an occasional mention).
There's definitely good stuff in here, it's just buried. It's also written in a dry, academic tone that makes it nearly impenetrable to anyone (like me) not already familiar with philosophical vocab.
Hard pass on this one, and I'm still not convinced there is a good book on Ang Lee's films.
Meh. 66% of this book is really good, but the last 33% is awful. Throw in 1% of the usual and random Stephen King shenanigans and you end up with a book that's entire passable, largely enjoyable, occasionally a lot of fun, and dreadful to experience.
Overall, I had a good time, but probably won't read it again.