M. Gelle Abdullahi
الكتاب صغير، وفيه فوائد كثيرة، واسمه موافق لمحتواه.
مجرد نقل المقريزي وسرده للقصص في الفصل الأول لكان كافيا، وعنوانه
“في إيراد ما بمصر من الغلوات وحكايات يسيرة من أنباء تلك السنوات”
لَكِنَّه، رحمه الله، زاد وأفاد.
فإذن ليس بالناس غلاء، إنما نزل بهم سوء التدبير من الحكام، ليذهب الله غناء الخلق”“ويبتليهم بالقلة والذلة، جزاءً بما كسبت أيديهم وليذيقهم بعض الذي عملوا ولعلهم يرجعون.
It lived up to the hype and even exceeded my expectations. The story is heavy with many players involved, but it's told in a clear and captivating way. I looked up if Don Winslow has any upcoming books and found out he's retired. This one was great, though, and I'll try to check out his other works if I finish this trilogy.
I tell you this. Back in 2016, for some reason, I started watching Johnny Carson's Tonight Show on YouTube. Maybe it was because I was already familiar with Letterman and other late-night shows, and curiosity got me wondering about what came before them. If I'm remembering right, Don Rickles was in the first video I watched—or at least one of the first.
It was something unusual for me—totally different from anything I'd seen before—and, as I later found out, for just about everyone else too. I was instantly hooked. From there, it was binge time, baby. I tracked down every appearance Rickles ever did. His movies and TV shows? Not so much—except for behind the scenes, where he was naturally dynamite.
I was just glad I managed to catch him while he was still making appearances—I wished I could've seen him perform for at least a year, but I got a few months on top of that.
It's like reading an anniversary issue of a great pulp magazine—double the usual pages and packed with contributors of every kind, each bringing their own unique style to columns or interviews.
Noir is one of my favorite genres, so that alone was reason enough for me to pick up a book about it. I actually had another one lined up, but since this was published first, I figured I'd give it a shot.
I was expecting a straightforward recounting of facts, maybe a basic retelling of Noir film history. But to my surprise, the writing matched the subject—dark, moody, and utterly captivating. Even if I'd gone in with high expectations, I couldn't have imagined it would be this good. Eddie Muller did a fantastic job.
Here's a taste of the writing from the introduction to the chapter “Vixenville”:
Don't bother looking for A Church in this part of town. The air's too hot And heavy for hymns. Not that you can't find houses of worship. Check out the windows, flickering in the night like offertory candles. Within the rooms are supplicatory men, on their knees, praying for a different kind of salvation. They bring to the altar gifts of fragrances and lace, hoping they'll be judged worthy. Most will end up crucified, for believing that holiness comes wrapped in seamed silk, redemption stretched sheer around a shapely calf.
These days, I find myself praying for a ceasefire for our Palestinian people, who are enduring conditions strikingly similar to those described in this book—Gaza as one massive concentration camp and the West Bank fragmented into ghettos. Like the Syrians who recently found liberation, and so many others before them, their suffering too will come to an end soon.
I'd been dreading reading this book for weeks, but when I finally sat down with it, I couldn't put it down. It's an easy read, despite the unimaginable horrors Viktor E. Frankl recounts from his time in the Holocaust. He presents everything through the lens of the mind, offering a deeply personal and thought-provoking perspective.
The first part addresses the question: How was everyday life in a concentration camp reflected in the mind of the average prisoner? The second part explores the meaning and ideas Frankl had been developing even before his imprisonment. It's an important book—short, but profound on the subject.
When it comes to collections of essays or short stories, I've always struggled to get through them quickly—or even at a normal pace. No matter how great one story or essay might have been, jumping straight into a new one with completely different settings and characters left me feeling less engaged. That said, these essays might have just changed how I think about reading them more often.
The book has nine essays, a third of which focus on heavyweight champions: Joe Louis, Floyd Patterson, and Muhammad Ali. Each essay takes a different angle. With Louis, it reads like a fast-paced sports article—sharp and direct. With Patterson, it digs deeper, almost into the soul of a fighter. And with Ali, it shifts focus, becoming less about the man himself and more about the world surrounding him.
Just when I thought nothing could top the heated exchange between Frank Sinatra and Harlan Ellison, I hit the essay Ali in Havana 1996. It was a fascinating contrast to the former—an unusual encounter between Castro and Ali that included a magic trick.
I had this book for years, picking it up here and there, but it wasn't until I read Double Indemnity that I felt the urge to dive into it right away.
“Yes, but I've got to get home.”“I'll take you home.”“You're awfully friendly.”“I'm the friendliest guy in the world.”“You don't even know where I live.”“I don't care.”“It's pretty far. It's in the country.”“The further the better. Wherever it is, it's right on my way.”“You make it hard for a nice girl to say no.”“Well then, if it's so hard, don't say it.”
Halfway through, I knew I was reading a masterpiece. I saw the movie once about ten years ago, and I loved it. Some scenes have stuck with me ever since, and as I read, I remembered others. There were even moments I'd completely forgotten that felt like I was experiencing them for the first time. It made the whole experience amazing.
I've skimmed a few pages of scripts from some of my favorite films before, but this was my first time sitting down and reading an entire script. It was incredible.
It was a smart move by Woody Allen to cowrite the story with Marshall Brickman—it definitely made it stronger. I'd assume it also helped Allen grow as a filmmaker later in his career.
It's a good book, but Crowe gets caught up repeating questions about movies Wilder either didn't like or the audience probably wouldn't care about. He should've let Wilder talk more about other filmmakers, especially when he was excited to praise them—that would've been way more interesting.
The book is detailed—maybe too detailed—and could've been 50–100 pages shorter. I enjoyed reading most of it, but it didn't really make me want to watch more of Wilder's movies. I also wish Wilder had been given more space to share his thoughts on Hollywood, especially since he made a movie about it!
I'm not sure if some of Wilder's answers were edited out by agreement between him and Crowe, but at times, the follow-up questions felt off, like someone else had stepped in to ask them. Thankfully, Wilder's talent as a good storyteller keeps it engaging.
School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play, and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands.
From the very first page, I could tell it was going to be a smooth read. The story isn't bad, but it's not exactly thrilling or amusing either.
It reminded me of watching The Twilight Zone (1959 series) earlier this year, where I felt totally disconnected from some episodes.
What was fascinating, though, was the overwhelmingly negative reception to this story. Here's an excerpt from Wikipedia:
Jackson and The New Yorker were both surprised by the initial negative response from readers; subscriptions were canceled and large amounts of hate mail were sent throughout the summer of its first publication, with Jackson receiving at least 10 letters per day. The Union of South Africa banned the story because some parts of Africa still used stoning as a punishment.
I listened to The Stand-Up Years 1964-1968 before reading this book, and had a great time. Woody Allen is, without a doubt, one of the greatest comedians ever.
The book started strong with The Metterling Lists, The Schmeed Memoirs, and Death Knocks. It dipped a little in the middle, but it picked up again with A Twenties Memory and Count Dracula, the latter being by far the funniest piece. A Twenties Memory felt even more vivid thanks to his film Midnight in Paris. Viva Vargas! and Mr. Big were also solid. Mr. Big especially, is a great example of how Allen seamlessly blends crime and comedy—showing how good he is as a writer.
I couldn't help but wonder: were these 17 pieces specially selected, or is this everything he wrote between 1966 and 1971?
Alike for folks who for TO-DAY prepare,And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries“Fools! Your Reward is neither Here nor There.”
I only read the first edition and couldn't even get past the first page of the fifth edition. I compared three quatrains I liked between the two editions just to make sure I wasn't re-reading them. Anyway, here are two other quatrains I liked:
Oh, include vintage Khayyam, and depart the WiseTo talk; one element is certain, that Life flies;One thing is positive, and the Rest is Lies;The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
..
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:And this became all the Harvest that I achieve'd—“I came like Water, and like Wind I pass.”
“I looked into the fire a while then. I ought to quit, while the quitting was good, I knew that. But that thing was in me, pushing me still closer to the edge.”
Double Indemnity was the first film noir I ever watched, ages ago, and it's just a great story. What I loved about this book right away is how the story jumps in without wasting time on scenery or backgrounds, saving all that for later.
The ending was one of the best things I've read—it felt like a dream. It was something else.
Bresson offers a collection of profound insights into the true essence of filmmaking. Bresson's arguments about what cinema should strive to be are compelling, and his expectations for his models/actors shed light on his unique vision for film.
His approach often depart from what mainstream filmmakers and general audiences typically appreciate. The challenge wasn't rooted in style but in storytelling. Both Bresson and Tarkovsky advocated for filmmakers to push boundaries, experiment, and refine their craft by minimizing excess in favor of powerful imagery—creating pure visual storytelling.
It's essential reading, filled with invaluable notes for anyone passionate about film.
The book is “a curious and unique production,” as the preface states, and indeed it is.
To me the appendix that followed was the icing on the cake. It contained poems, letters, and “A curious Sermon, by the Rev. Mr. Hyberdin, which he made at the request of certain thieves that robbed him on a hill near Hartlgrow, in Hampshire, (England) in their presence and at that instant.”
Two years ago I came across a post or comment mentioning Timothy Dexter and how his rivals tried to bankrupt him many times, but in the end resulted in him acquiring much wealth.
“People jokingly told him to “ship coal to Newcastle”. Fortuitously, he did so during a Newcastle miners' strike, and his cargo was sold at a premium. On another occasion, practical jokers told him he could make money by shipping gloves to the South Sea Islands. His ships arrived there in time to sell the gloves to Portuguese boats on their way to China.”
—https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timothy_Dexter
When I found out that he had written a book, I was determined to get hold of it, and now was the right time to read it.
“The book contains 8,847 words and 33,864 letters, but without any punctuation and with unorthodox spelling and capitalization.”
—The synopsis.
So I didn't try to understand or decipher what Dexter was trying to say. I read it for fun and enjoyed reading most of it.
There is not much more to add, except to leave you with an excerpt from the book:
“To man kind at Large I Never had the honour to be Long I meane to that onerabel mesonek Order I Noked once once twise three times & the gohst Apeared sade thou shall Not enter be Cose I have toue much knowledge in my head—I sopose had I bin one then should bin to keep open Dors for thives & Robers”
—WONDER OF WONDERS!, A Pickle For The Knowing Ones
How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?
It seemed as if Shakespeare had abandoned the play after writing two-thirds of it. Busy schedule, writing another masterpiece, or was it difficult to find a suitable resolution to end this great work?
The stakes were getting higher and I wondered how this genius was going to play this out. He chose to end it in a hilarious way. Well, I am not angry, but a little disappointed.
Shylock, Portia and Launcelot Gobbo had the best act and spoke poetically.
It was the first time I'd read his work in English; I'd read three other plays before, and it's really something else. It was a bit challenging at first, but I really enjoyed it.
A long time ago, when I got the book, I planned to watch some of Marty's movies that I hadn't seen before and revisit some of them. I'm glad I didn't. It made me enjoy the book more and shortened the list of movies I wanted to see.
The book is very good and it brought some of the experience I had watching the movies. It informs us how each movie was received by the public and the critics, and how Marty felt at the time.
I was wondering if Tom Shone would mention 1MDB-1Malaysia Development Berhad- in the section of The Wolf of Wall Street, he didn't even allude to it, and I understand the reason. It would've added to the reading experience, but it might mean that Marty or other filmmakers stopped collaborating with Shone.
If there is one film one must see from Scorsese it would certainly be his small documentary Italianamerican 1974. It's a less than one hour movie about his parents and it's available on YouTube.
From the wedding scene in Godfellas, a tracking shot shows the guests. In few seconds Tommy's Mother (Catherine Scorsese) tells her son Tommy DeVito(Joe Pesci) while pointing at Henry Hill(Ray Liotta)...
Why don't you be like your friend Henry?He's got a nice girl.He's settling down now. He's married.Pretty soon he'll have a nice family.And you're still bouncing aroundfrom girl to girl.
Andrei Tarkovsky's argument here is that cinema is an art in itself, it is independent. It doesn't need the help of painting, theater or literature in composition, acting methods or screenwriting.
It's noticeable that Tarkovsky suffered, among other things, from his artistic sensitivity, which made reading some parts unbearable, which made me stop reading it for days.
There are many gems in this book regarding art, film and poetry. The introduction alone is a good example. This book is a must read for filmmakers and film critics.
The general idea of the author's work is to take pictures of women around the world and to tell us—if needed—their stories, work, dreams, nightmares, etc.
This book badly needed an editor for two reasons:
First, trim down the volume. The book should've been around 100–150 pages.
Second, to inform her that she needs to at least quote or mention the struggle that women face in India, North Korea, and—the most obvious one—the Palestinian territories, as she quoted and mentioned the struggle that women in some parts of the world go through to just be pole dancers.
It took me five months to finish it. This book needed an editor to cut it down to 60 pages. Too long and not entertaining except for chapter 7, “Now... This.”
The before-television part could've been summarized in 20 pages at most. The whole typography chapter could've been mentioned in a half-line.
The author spent a lot of time analyzing sub-topics; it took him half the book to get into the main topic, and then he wasted it on giving many examples to support his points when just one or two examples would've been sufficient.