While seemingly exhaustively researched, this still read as a quick popular history aimed at the layperson, not a journeyperson. Following a roughly cWhile seemingly exhaustively researched, this still read as a quick popular history aimed at the layperson, not a journeyperson. Following a roughly chronological exploration she does a great job at showing the importance of textile technologies from ancient Egypt through the present day. I was always entertained and felt like I was learning something, that upon reflection it does feel like a lot of interesting facts, and stories highlighting those facts, strewn together, trusting that the sheer accumulation of them would make any other argument on its own. She obviously discusses the gendered roles in textile creation through time, as well as the intersections between fabric production and consumption across social and income statuses, but these all felt like just fleeting glances of a much more engaging and interesting topic. It sometimes seemed that the desire to be so expansive in terms of time and place came at the cost of significant depth. There are so many types of textile technologies and arts that were barely mentioned if at all, such as diverse regional nalbinding, crocheting, and knitting and the roles these so-called domestic arts played not only in the practicality of keeping human beings alive but also in aiding war efforts, serving as a medium for hidden code, and as a means of defining cultural and social identities. The topic is so broad that it is understandable things need to be left out of a pop-history book such as this one, but I wish it didn’t feel so randomly structured. Yes, it is mostly chronological, but it still feels like it wildly careens from chapter to chapter, again lending to the experience of a whole bunch of interesting facts without a strong central throughline other than “textiles and fabrics have always been critically important for human survival and culture but simultaneously have often been overlooked, probably in part due to gendered reasons.”
That said, I still enjoyed reading the book. It was easy to read, it had engaging historical stories and anecdotes to accompany anything that might come off as a dry history, and it did have a lot of interesting facts that I hadn’t known. At the very least by putting them all together it does go a way toward reminding the reader of the importance of something we may regard as innocuous, if we think of it at all. As someone without any detailed knowledge of textile history but with an interest in the development of textile technologies and arts it did scratch the itch of my curiosity a bit but still left me wanting a little more.
Compelling, engaging, and thorough, this oral history isn’t afraid to be as epic in scale as the part of history it is covering. There is a lot of theCompelling, engaging, and thorough, this oral history isn’t afraid to be as epic in scale as the part of history it is covering. There is a lot of the mundane in here, from deep-in-the-weeds science to minutia about construction work and contractors, but it never once lost my attention. The unleashing of the atomic bombs is not a simple story, and it deserves a sense of grandeur capture the devastation. That means realizing how it is a bunch of mundane experiences and information from tens of thousands of people that culminated in a world-changing event. These details add to one another, increasing the looming inevitability of terrible destruction. The unleashing of the bombs is told with on-the-ground reports from both Hiroshima and Nagasaki, reports of devastation and heartbreak and absolute horror, and these are contrasted with the simultaneous celebrations of the Americans and other allies, and this framing feels the only fitting way to attempt to contain the whole story. This book is incredibly well-researched, extensive and detailed but consistently entertaining and engaging, and helps locate and preserve a critical moment of history from all possible angles. This is, for better or worse, a very human story, and that is what shines through, not some dry history. It is brutal and honest and evocative, and it leaves you wondering how we can look at the state of international warfare 70 years later and consider it progress.
This is a well-researched love letter to an iconic series. A critical part of the Scream franchise is that everyone involved cares about the franchiseThis is a well-researched love letter to an iconic series. A critical part of the Scream franchise is that everyone involved cares about the franchise, they care about the characters and the artistry and emotional impact that the stories deliver so well. It is clear Cullins shares that admiration, and as a result this examination of the series feels invested, if a little hagiographic at times. If you are not a fan of the franchise then I don’t know that there is a whole lot for you here. While she does have quotes from other artists and film makers discussing the love for the franchise, and the ways it has inspired them, there isn’t a broader examination of how horror cinema has changed in light of Scream. She does a good job of explaining how the original film breaks the mold for what was happening in horror at the time, and goes on to show how each entry is navigating the world of contemporary horror in different ways, but there is no larger sociological exploration of how the pop culture landscape changed as a result of Scream, which I was kind of hoping for.
Still, this looks at the gestations of each of the seven films in the series, (including the controversies and cast, writer, and director changes for the seventh film, which was filming at the time of the publication of this book), and as a fan of the series this was satisfying. There aren’t any jaw-dropping insights, and Cullins doesn’t whitewash some of the more turbulent experiences folks had but doesn’t ever devolve into gossip or into bad-mouthing someone just for the sake of good pull quotes. What this book does best, perhaps, is serve as a lovely tribute to Wes Craven. The discussion of his commitment to his art but also to the people who worked with him, and the repeated praise and admiration expressed for him by everyone who worked with him, is truly wonderful.
This is a fun, quick read. Similar to the Scream franchise, which focuses on making the characters complicated and important, this is a celebration of the many people who gave so much to this franchise. The writing is playful but direct, with a quick-moving prose that definitely shows off Cullins experience as an investigative journalist. Everything is presented chronologically, without any attempts at making it artsy or showy, instead offering a heartfelt and straightforward guided tour through this world. I would have loved a little more of the impact of the series on the genre as a whole, some more anthropological explorations of the many ripples that the series has had, and in that way this isn’t quite as robust as I might want. But what it does give feels thorough, and is as inviting and intimate as the franchise, when at its best, is too.
Also, for what its worth, the audiobook is narrated by Roger L. Jackson, the voice of Ghostface. It was an incredibly clever bit of casting and he does a great job.
Everyone, horror fan or not, reader or not, can find bits of themselves in these essays. If you love horror, like me, or if you don’t understand at alEveryone, horror fan or not, reader or not, can find bits of themselves in these essays. If you love horror, like me, or if you don’t understand at all why anyone would read it, or if you find yourself somewhere between those poles, this essay collection is for you. Personally, I found myself scattered across multiple essays, and it was really wonderful to see those parts of myself shared with some of the leading voices in contemporary horror fiction.
The authors are all really exciting voices, and to have them share these parts of themselves feels both intimate and refreshing. The essays themselves range in style from straightforward and precise to exaggerated and playful, showing off not just the range of answers to the question but different authors’ styles, as well. It isn’t necessarily the case that anything in this collection is going to be blow the mind of any horror fan who has spent any amount of time trying to answer this question for themselves, but to see the different answers and variations on themes just reminds the reader how immersive and inclusive the horror community is.
The curation is really well done, allowing the collection to have its own kind of arc. In addition, Becky Siegel Spratford’s introduction to each author was magnificent, not only introducing the author but somehow capturing the essence of the way they approach their craft and then giving a book recommendation as well as a comp recommendation for each author. It wasn’t necessary but it really elevated this collection, making it something special.
This collection is a lot of fun and a very quick read. It opens up the world of horror and is a chance for readers to get inside the artist’s heads a little, which for me makes their work even more powerful. While there is, obviously, some repetition in their answers each essay brings something new to the table, both in style and substance. None of the essays linger too long, and they flow together into a compelling and enjoyable whole. This is definitely a worthwhile collection, offering insight and opportunity for self-reflection, for any and all readers, regardless of your relationship with genre.
(Rounded from 4.5)
I want to thank the editor and contributors, the publisher Saga Press, and NetGalley, who provided a complimentary eARC for review. I am leaving this review voluntarily....more
Omar El Akkad manages to combine a guttural wail, an inconsolable lament, with a poetic exploration of power and dissemblance. This book refuses to ceOmar El Akkad manages to combine a guttural wail, an inconsolable lament, with a poetic exploration of power and dissemblance. This book refuses to cede any moral ground, not in the defense of any country or flag or religion but in the defense of humanity, refusing to throw away the potential of what we can become even acknowledging all we have done and all we are actively doing. Nothing is sugar-coated in this reckoning, and complacency and silent consent aren’t excused. But this isn’t about simply pointing fingers, it is about understanding that for every day we spend pointing fingers more people die. That politics and power treat human life as data points and it’s only by sacrificing our own humanity that we can play along with that charade.
“What power assumes, ultimately, is that all those who weren’t directly affected by this, who only had to bear the minor inconvenience of hearing about these deaths from afar, will move on, will forget. Tomorrow more Palestinians will die, but in the places where the bombs are built and launched it will have no bearing on mortgages, bills, employment. Indeed, in many of these places, what will have a real economic effect is if the bombing stops. ... Tomorrow more Palestinians will die, but the unsaid thing is that it is all right because that’s what those people do, they die. Just for a moment, cease to believe that this particular group of people are human.”
The writing in this is poetic and heart-wrenching. He is blunt and direct when he needs to be, contrasting with the sweet language and performative metaphors that hide violence. The writing is lush and smart and it understands itself, calling back ideas and references in ways both subtle and sublime, using historical fact and emotional truth to highlight that many mundane experiences are shaped by forces that want to remain invisible, but forces you can resist, if you are willing to inhabit justice as something more than a performative art. The writing really is captivating, and he moves between rough memoir and contemporary atrocity with an adroit skill, never centering himself in the face of the current genocide but instead showing that all the pieces for the genocide have existed and were available to be seen for a long time. As an individual Al Akkad is apart from the genocide; he is not Palestinian, nor does he have family in Palestine. But the way he weaves personal narrative with contemporary tragedy serves to show that we are all but a stone’s throw away from violence, if even that. The violence of the current genocide includes the actions taken and not taken by the governments that we live under, and while blood may not be on our hands it is definitely in our streets. Poetic description and ragged, vulnerable honesty make this an immersive and encompassing text, one that refuses to let the audience look away.
Having said all of that, it is a text, a vision that is unflinching, yes, one that refuses to deny the incredible suffering happening right now, but one that also is looking toward a future. It is not optimistic, it is not promising that justice is an inevitability, but instead it is steadfast in its insistence that there will be change. Change is inevitable, but what it will look like, and what will be left standing afterward, is not guaranteed. We have the chance to make the change happen sooner, to shape it toward human decency and compassion and solidarity. We have the opportunity to get over the shame of our past complicity and save our own humanity. Al Akkad doesn’t offer optimism, no, but he offers motivation, inspiration to embrace the best parts of ourselves in the face of atrocity. Not just the atrocities of the current genocide but in the face of the lesser atrocities, the ones that build up slowly, invisibly, as we normalize violence and xenophobia. ...more
Written in a casual, direct, friendly style, this memoir offers a glimpse into the history of one of the biggest and most important names in the hist Written in a casual, direct, friendly style, this memoir offers a glimpse into the history of one of the biggest and most important names in the history of heavy metal while also showcasing the devastation of homophobia and the dangers of the closet. The dual identity of metal god and closeted gay man was corrosive to Halford’s sense of self, and he is very candid and heartfelt about his experiences and the liberation he felt when he came out, albeit somewhat accidentally, in 1998. Having that story so powerfully shared is reason enough to laud this memoir.
Otherwise, it is more or less what you expect from a musician’s memoir. It is rather straight forward in approach and style, and feels like an easy conversation. Even though some of the topics are quite personal, and it doesn’t feel like Halford is holding anything back, it also doesn’t feel as intimate as you might expect, given everything he experienced. It has the sense of a storyteller telling a story, and so even in his confessions we are kept at arm’s length. That, however, is fine, and artists don’t owe their fans anything else. There is never the hint of dissimulation, but a real “warts and all” exploration of the unlikely life of a bloke from a real working-class family who is inspired by The Beatles and goes on to become larger than life.
Accident or not, Halford coming out in 1998 was really important and inspirational for multiple generations of metal heads. His memoir, in its friendly—occasionally sassy, occasionally lurid—tone continues to inspire and highlight the power of accepting yourself. Halford was incredibly fortunate in that he always had an incredibly supportive inner circle of family and friends, even when he was closeted, and that isn’t something everyone has, true, but baring yourself and putting yourself )and your career) at risk is always a terrifying thing, and the world is better for having this particular leather daddy metal god (or, as he calls himself, this gay metal pop tart) in it. ...more
This is an inspiring reminder that a country is far more than its elected politicians. Countless individuals offer service at all different levels witThis is an inspiring reminder that a country is far more than its elected politicians. Countless individuals offer service at all different levels with all sorts of expertise, making life better for everyone, and they often do it selflessly, or at the least without any expectations of fanfare. There are literally millions of federal workers in the USA, many of whom are actively electing not to take the pay raises they could find in the private sector because they value the role their work plays in the overall health of the country and its populace. These essays are tiny portraits into just a handful of such workers/agencies, and more than just serving as a reminder of the dedication many people bring to making the world a better place but also as an inspiration, because they highlight how individuals can have outsized benefits.
The writing is fun and engaging across the board, which is unsurprising considering these essays are not written by political journalists but by writers and artists. The collection feels humanizing and honest, never aiming to coerce or manipulate the reader but to bare a part of America’s actual heart for all to see. The collection is short, I wouldn’t have minded a few additional essays, to be honest, but I do appreciate that when I finished the book I didn’t have any sense of fatigue or repetition, so maybe it is smarter to leave the reader wanting a little more, in that regard. While the brief, to profile an unsung government worker (or department) is broad there still feels like a continuity across the essays, letting the whole be stronger than the sum of its parts....more
This, this is great. Mystal very clearly knows what he is talking about, he makes persuasive arguments, and he does it all while being accessible and This, this is great. Mystal very clearly knows what he is talking about, he makes persuasive arguments, and he does it all while being accessible and funny. It is hard to write about not just systemic racism and violence but the systemic racism and violence that has been the cornerstone for the American project and to still manage levity and hope, but he manages it.
What I really appreciate is the honesty. This book tackles the US Constitution, but more specifically the Bill of Rights, the first ten amendments that were written and codified at the same time as the Constitution. It is so easy for anything in the legal realm to be filled with convoluted language and to feel despairingly obtuse, but Mystal shows that it doesn’t have to be that way at all. He goes into esoteric detail when needed, and explains the vagaries and specificities of legal jargon as needed, as well, but he never leaves the reader feeling like the meaning (or the law) is some vaulted elite chamber they have no right to occupy. He is explicitly clear about his political leanings and positioning but also gives (grudging) acknowledgment when conservatives judges make decisions that he agrees with. He is never hiding his partisanship, but he isn’t demonizing the other side or ignoring the faults of his own side for the sake of convenience. It is clear he cares about equality, and more importantly about the people that deserve that equality.
While the overarching thesis of this book is “the Constitution is trash and it would be great if we could burn it down and start over, this time with a diverse group made up of people other than white, misogynist slaveholders,” it is clear that Mystal cares about this country. He cares about the as yet unrealized potential of this country to actually care about its citizenry, to live up to the lofty promises and stories it tells about itself. This earnestness is what makes his arguments all the more powerful, and it carries the book. It is definitely worth reading for anyone interested not only in Constitutional Law but anyone who wants a better understanding of the Bill of Rights, why is was written in the first place, and the many ways it has been interpreted, ignored, and twisted to serve the white ruling elites instead of serving the country as a whole.
As an added note, I listened to the audiobook production of this book, and it is performed by Elie Mystal, and it is just really fun to listen to him. His performance is infused with righteous indignation and humor and frustration, theatrical and yet dignified. It definitely elevated the experience....more
For anyone who looks at the current Supreme Court and has the gut feeling that something is rotten in Denmark, this book is just what you need. Leah LFor anyone who looks at the current Supreme Court and has the gut feeling that something is rotten in Denmark, this book is just what you need. Leah Litman has taken her extensive knowledge of history and the law and combined it with her razor-sharp commentary and a love for pop culture to show pretty definitively how and why your gut feeling is on to something. Broken down into five large chapters covering women’s rights, queer rights, race & voting rights, money & oligarchical influence, and an obsession with dismantling federal agencies and committees. With tongue firmly in cheek (and a command of the facts that is exacting and damning) she uses the pop-culture references of Barbie, Mean Girls, Game of Thrones, Arrested Development, and American Psycho to keep each chapter playful.
The scholarship is precise and really compelling, tracing ideas and precedents all the way to the founding of the country. There is nothing surface level about it at all. The tone, though, is playful. It is almost conversational, never talking down to the audience and yet always giving more than enough information so you can grasp whatever historical detail or point is being made. There is so much that could be said about the Supreme Court that it is amazing she could narrow this narrative down to those five points, but they feel representative of the Court as a whole and this book manages to feel expansive without feeling overstuffed.
For me her wit and tone, along with great scholarship, were more than enough to keep me engaged in the book. I didn’t really need the pop-culture references, they didn’t add much for me. Yet they weren’t distracting, referenced more in section titles and occasional summaries than anything else, and they did add a sense of levity to what is a pretty depressing topic. Because the conclusion she reaches, which you can’t really blame her for, isn’t a great one. There are significant problems with the current Court and no easy ways to fix it, given the current tides of partisan power. She ends, though, with a call for knowledge, because the best hope for creating a future you want to live in is to be knowledgeable about the systems that are causing harm so you know how to stand up to them and how to rebuild them, better, when the chance might arise. This book goes a long way toward that end, not resting on gut feelings or vibes but instead offering deeply researched analysis in an accessible way....more
This is a powerful, contemplative collection of essays. The idea of the outsider, or the other, is a compelling one. Nguyen skillfully interrogates itThis is a powerful, contemplative collection of essays. The idea of the outsider, or the other, is a compelling one. Nguyen skillfully interrogates it from numerous perspectives, recognizing that it is something that is forced upon certain people but also something that is embraced and cultivated. There is a responsibility of recognizing the multi-interstitial others that battle within many of us for our attention, our allegiance. What parts of ourselves do we lift up, and what are we ashamed of? How does that affect how we live in the world and the art/relationships we create? What responsibilities come along with those manifold identities, whether we asked for them or not? A throughline that I felt compelling across the essays was how we are constantly an other to ourselves, and while this can be a vulnerability it is also a strength. It provides a means of navigating the other other-nesses we inhabit, due to race, immigration status, sexuality, gender, socioeconomic status, political ideology, and so on. What thrums beneath the surface of these essays is that we all—but maybe especially artists—have a responsibility to recognize the incredibly powerful force that othering plays in our lives and identities (whether we identify as an other or not) and then above and beyond recognizing it we need to explore it, question it, and honestly confront it. The essays are ambitious and inspirational, not just for writers or artists but for anyone who is interested in thinking about identity. He weaves in examples of other writers and artists that inspire him and his thinking, and it is a wonderful tapestry of intellectual literary thought, and a wonderful demonstration of wrestling with important ideas through artistic endeavor. Can our constant tension, the internal other that is reacting to the labels and identities thrust upon us from outside of our control, be what ignites our best understanding of who we are in the world? Can our exile be the source of a creativity that may be painful and unfair but also liberatory?
Both inviting and informative, like any proper bookshop should be! This popular history is very readable, being meticulous in its exploration without Both inviting and informative, like any proper bookshop should be! This popular history is very readable, being meticulous in its exploration without ever feeling bogged down by stats or timelines. I think the structure was really smart, sticking to a roughly chronological format while highlighting specific bookshops as exemplars of a particular historical trend or inflection point or key component of the identity of the American bookshop. Choosing to have little palate cleansers between chapters discussing other random bookshops and booksellers was also nice, it added a warmth and familiarity to the text that was welcome.
It feels pretty exhaustive, starting with Benjamin Franklin and ending with brave souls starting in a post-Amazon landscape, yet never exhausting. They are some areas that I would have actually enjoyed a little deeper dive into, especially as the final verdict seems to be that contemporary bookshops exist as social spaces as much if not more than as retail spaces, and that is a wildly interesting phenomenon. He does a good job of chronicling this, from a chapter on politically-aligned bookshops, one on queer activist bookshops, and one on Black activist bookshops, all set up for comparison to Barnes & Noble and its façade of community and comfort as well as to Amazon Books which lacks the pretense of being anything other than pure capitalism. Yet I left the book feeling more intrigued and interested than satisfied, in a way, because it seems like there are a half dozen books waiting to be written just on this very topic. I can’t hold that against this book, though. This is a broad history that does its job very well, condensing a long arc of American history into something that is fun and accessible, with research and writing that is competent and inviting. ...more
I was disappointed by this, if I am going to be honest. It is clear Kaplan has done the work and is a genuine afficionado, and that did elevate this. I was disappointed by this, if I am going to be honest. It is clear Kaplan has done the work and is a genuine afficionado, and that did elevate this. But it doesn’t really know what it wants to be and just felt like it rambled all over the place. There is already an exhaustive memoir of Miles Davis’s life, which Kaplan quotes heavily, and there is also a detailed book all about the actual creation and recording of the album Kind of Blue. So, Kaplan promises in his introduction that instead this is an exploration of not just Davis but also Coltrane and Evans, as the three musical geniuses who gave Kind of Blue its beating heart…. But it clearly isn’t that. It is 75% Davis and the other two are lost in the remaining 25%. That in and of itself isn’t bad, especially since as we follow Davis’s emergence on the scene we learn the trajectory of jazz in America from the ‘40s onward; we see how and where Miles was at all of these important moments, so he becomes a way into understanding the constant evolution of jazz. But the way it is put together, with a need to jump over to Coltrane and Evans now and again, sometimes going back and forth in chronology, just made everything feel like disorganized rambling and not the coherent story that is clearly there in all the words on the page. Basically, a solo that has gone on too long.
Kaplan pulled no punches about the devastating lifestyles that plagued many of the great jazz musicians, which I appreciated. He does seem almost sycophantic in his defense of albums that he holds as genius that weren’t seen as such when they were released, which is a fine opinion to have but it made it hard to distinguish between journalism and hagiography. Considering all that has already been written about Davis and this album, and what felt like meager attention given to Coltrane and Evans in this history, I would have really enjoyed going deeper into the idea of art itself as understood by these legends. To his credit Kaplan does broach this, especially notable when sharing a lengthy quote from Jon Batiste about how Miles had to push into a new style, discover all of its boundaries, and then move on, leaving it for others to explore, while Coltrane would move into something new, find its boundaries and then evolve those boundaries, and Evans focused on one conception that he just kept digging deeper and deeper into. I think a more intense exploration into that would have really made this something special, trying to discern how each artist’s understanding of art and their relationship to art worked together to create this particular album at this particular time and place in the history of jazz. The tempting promise for that exploration is here, but it never lives up to it.
The knowledge here is really wonderful. The sense of change and vitality that pervaded the jazz scene, only for it to so quickly come crashing down, is captured really well. Just the exploration and how swing and dance led into Bebop thanks largely to Dizzy Gillepsie and Charlie Parker, and how that led to hard bop, and then smooth jazz, then avantgarde, and so on, the way certain musical voices affected change in the entire scene and how that evolution directly contributed to this pivotal album, that is all interesting and I am glad I was able to learn about it with the enthusiasm Kaplan brings to the material. But my overall impression is that this history didn’t have a firm grasp on what it wanted to be or what story it wanted to tell, so it wandered around and tired me out by the end.
This is a thorough exploration of Pete Rose, building a much bigger, more complex picture of the man than any fan or critic might get just from news hThis is a thorough exploration of Pete Rose, building a much bigger, more complex picture of the man than any fan or critic might get just from news headlines. It is really well researched and well written, with compelling prose that moves forward crisply and is a joy to read. At times, for important moments, the text almost slows down and feels like a play-by-play commentary, giving vivid descriptions of not just games but individual plays. This is a really effective style; it makes the experience more immersive. Generally, though, the chapters are short enough to grab your attention but keep you moving, which is appreciated. The writing feels fair and honest, trying to offer an unbiased accounting of a man who famously dissimulates as part of his public life, and probably his private life, too. If anything, instead of a vendetta this really feels like an apologetic, and while it does nothing to hide Rose’s flaws it contextualizes them and him in such a way as to let the reader understand his humanity.
The middle section did stretch on a little more than it felt like was necessary, and while it was always pleasant to read it did feel like there could be some consolidation. Also, the subtitle is a little misleading, insofar it is hard to see what is being said about “the glory days of baseball,” and how/if Pete Rose’s admission had anything to do with them. It seems more that the steroid era of the 90s and Rose’s disgrace & dismissal were concurrent, and the subsequent decline in attention and popularity, all just happened to align. There is a lot to be said about the end of the glory days, but not much is really said about it here, except that Rose played and excelled at a time when US baseball was at its apex. So, the subtitle kind of wrote a check that the actual text didn’t really cash. But that doesn’t take away from how good this biography is. From the writing to the style to the empathy this is an engaging read and an important read for anyone interested in an incredibly important part of baseball’s modern history.
A moving memoir that manages a balanced introspective, philosophical tone without being saccharine or deflecting toward diatribe. I haven’t read RushdA moving memoir that manages a balanced introspective, philosophical tone without being saccharine or deflecting toward diatribe. I haven’t read Rushdie’s fiction, so I can’t speak to how his style here compares to his other prose, but the style works well for a memoir. It is very personal but also conversational, avuncular, almost. There is a little bit of self-indulgence in the writing, but Rushdie doesn’t pretend otherwise and it feels both warranted and fitting. Yet, what I most appreciated is even within that there is a clear humility, at least in terms of his relationship with art and his dedication to embracing love as a driving force in his life.
He explicitly discusses how the writing of this book, while not therapy, was therapeutic and part of his continued recovery, and in that regard, then, I am happy to accept this book is exactly as it needs to be. It isn’t a perfect read, for me, though. There is an entire chapter dedicated to a series of imagined interviews with his assailant, and this really didn’t work for me, on an emotional level (which is to say it distanced me from my experiences he was guiding me through in the other chapters). Anyone who holds what they believe to be a morally or philosophically superior position to someone else believes they understand the key logic, the one statement that will dismantle their opponent and let them see the truth of reality. Of course, it never works that way—regardless of the veracity or persuasion of the argument—because beliefs are deeply held, often against common sense, and so there is always a retort, as unsatisfying as that may be. This chapter just felt like a chance for someone to just vent all these seeming “logic bombs,” and the imagined responses were always silence or vitriol, just evidence of how intellectually and emotionally moribund the assailant’s argument was. It isn’t that I didn’t find agreement with Rushdie’s ideas, but the whole thing felt performative, like it wasn’t a genuine (imagined) conversation with his assailant but one with belief in general, one where he is the uncontested victor. I think the chapter would have been stronger if he explained how he had had these imaginary conversations again and again and then gave us his ultimate position or take-away from them, in the introspective style of the rest of the memoir. As it was it just felt supercilious, contrasting with the overall tone and reading experience.
Aside from that chapter, it does seem Rushdie can’t help little supercilious jabs of his own throughout the book. He makes a declaration of his belief that personal faith and religious practice are well and good if they stay personal but when religion becomes weaponized or explicitly utilized in the public sphere it is harmful. And yet, he insists on inserting throw-away lines about how religions are imaginary, and so on. Basically, lines that show a marked disrespect for individuals’ private practices of faith, assertions of a moral superiority as someone who exists as a moral agent without relying on imaginary and fantastical beliefs. It is perfectly fine for him to hold this position, but it contradicts with his insistence that he is respectful of private practices of faith. Small statements to this effect are littered throughout the memoir and they served as a reminder that, while Rushdie insists that the “pompous Rushdie” is an invention of the British media it is not an invention cut from whole cloth but rather one that he actively contributes to, even in this memoir as he decries it.
To be honest, those moments of contradiction did take away from my experience of this memoir. Not because he is not allowed to believe what he believes, but because there is a contradiction between his explanation of himself and what these statements say about his self-understanding. A memoir, especially this one, is a deeply personal and reflective act, and to see these contradictions, though small, lent an air of disingenuity that I had to actively keep at bay. That is a type of work I didn’t want to have to do, because save for those few passages here and there I felt this was deeply moving. Rushdie manages to find personal closure while still holding space for the open-endedness not just of this particular event but of life, in general. He portrays what feels like an honest experience through pain and confusion to one of acceptance and growth, refusing to let his spirit be dampened by others’ ignorance or hatred. This is quite moving, and doesn’t feel fabricated but instead earned, and valuable. I also appreciate that while he does share some important understanding about his life and his place in the world and what kind of personal space he intends or hopes to occupy moving forward, understandings that maybe were latent in his mind before this attack but which find new growth and life and import in its wake, he doesn’t portray this attack as some sort of revelatory moment. There seems a public need to insist on Post Traumatic Growth, and he doesn’t play into that. He acknowledges how the attack helped reorient some of his thoughts and priorities, and he celebrates the growth he has had since the attack, but he doesn’t glamorize the recovery as revelation. Instead, he tells a deeply human story, a personal exploration of meaning, both in the individual and the global or universal sense. With clear and compelling language, friendly and inviting prose, he is able to walk us through a horrific tragedy only to end up in a place that celebrates humanity, and humanity’s best attempts at understanding itself through acts of art and love. It feels like a meaningful journey to take, and I am appreciative Rushdie was willing to share it....more
A testament to the beauty of humanity and a rallying cry for us to live up to our best potential, this history balances academic rigor with a fun, engA testament to the beauty of humanity and a rallying cry for us to live up to our best potential, this history balances academic rigor with a fun, engaging, playful writing style. He doesn’t skimp on emotion, on making this a personal story, which is remarkably effective, not because he is trying to manipulate the audience but because the main point is how disease, and especially this disease, is not an issue of human ignorance but instead human neglect. Disease thrives in areas decimated by social and political neglect or disregard, and all contemporary TB epidemics are the result of human systems. The medicinal part of that bitter pill is that it also means we can improve those systems, we have the power and knowledge and capacity to eradicate the inhumanity that is found at the source of all contemporary TB cases. He makes this case by telling the colorful history of TB, using research and science to share human facts that build up an expansive picture of how the relationship between humans and TB has developed and changed over the centuries. He infuses this important academic work not only with a friendly but urgent voice but also with a personal story, sharing the story of a single young man who he met that inspired him to learn about TB in the first place, interspersing that story with the research and history throughout the book in insightful ways.
This book is a great popular history about TB, with numerous medical breakthroughs and professional rivalries and all sorts of interesting and fun tidbits, feeling like a meal unto itself. He shares personal details about his life and his experiences with illness and shares stories of others he knows in such a way as to intertwine the history of this disease not just with culture at large but also with very relevant and personal histories, stories that draw the reader in, captivating and intimate and affective. But he adds to this the bigger picture, the understanding of the socio-political pressures that do now and always have impacted the understanding, spread, and elimination of disease. This is the critical part of this history, the part that takes it away from the microscope and into the lives of everyone that has an opportunity to fight for a solution, to be a part of the voice of shared humanity that has the scientific, technological, and imaginative resources to decisively eliminate this particular suffering, at least. The book is a quick read, incredibly absorbing, beautifully crafted, and it leaves you feeling both more informed and more motivated....more
I started this memoir really, really enjoying it. Cher is a remarkably interesting person, and she tells the story of her life in a very frank, honestI started this memoir really, really enjoying it. Cher is a remarkably interesting person, and she tells the story of her life in a very frank, honest way that is remarkably humble, unassuming, and refreshing. Learning about how remarkably traumatic her childhood was (and that of her mother, for that matter), just makes her shine even brighter. Seeing her grow up and thrust into adulthood at far too early of an age, only to see what she wants to grasp onto it, evokes a sympathy for a childhood she never had and an awe for what she has done.
I won’t lie, though. As the memoir goes on it rambles quite a bit, often about non sequiturs and small details that maybe add color to our understanding of Cher’s life the first time those kinds of details are shared, but not when they are shared again and again and again. The writing is incredibly informal and conversational. She sets this tone very early in the memoir and it works, it is both disarming and humanizing. And, more importantly, it feels genuine. But it is within this conversational, story-telling mode that her story sometimes gets lost in details that don’t feel like they contribute. This is even more noticeable in the final few chapters, which feel like a whirlwind, rushing through years of her life when previous chapters were meandering and doddering about.
I read this not as a fan, but as someone that is appreciative of her contemporary music (and personal) and vaguely aware of what her popularity and status once was. So maybe if you have had a decades’ long fascination with her then all of her tangential details will fill you with glee, let you feel like an insider to her life. The writing style and tone is intimate and is certainly inviting a type of camaraderie. But they were a bit too much for me, and by the halfway point it really felt like it started to drag. Obviously she is telling the story of her real life, and real lives aren’t plotted out as conveniently as a novel, but this memoir could have benefited from some streamlining and, for lack of a better description, better plotting.
Also, I would have liked a little more introspection. She is incredibly honest, and there are little snippets of introspection here and there. She doesn’t ever seem like she is hiding anything from the reader, especially when she makes big decisions (good or bad ones). But so much of her life is so wildly outside of the norm that there are moments when I really would have preferred her to dig into what she was feeling or thinking about some of the things she describes than giving specific lines of dialogue from her comedy routines and so on. So much of her life is already documented in the public eye that I was hoping for maybe a little more depth, where this seemed to be constantly floating on the surface and only occasionally dipping into anything deeper.
It is hard to recommend this to someone who isn’t already a fan, but if you are a fan you will likely enjoy this quite a bit. Even though I feel like it rambles and definitely needs some trimming, it is really readable, has a very friendly and conversational tone, is inviting, and, ultimately, has an optimistic and inspirational sense about it that is hard to deny....more
The language and sentimentality of this memoir was a pleasure to fall into, but the whole time I had to almost ask myself what the point was. Of coursThe language and sentimentality of this memoir was a pleasure to fall into, but the whole time I had to almost ask myself what the point was. Of course, maybe if you have read a lot of Aciman’s work then this will hold more meaning for you, but for me I struggled to see why he memorialized this transitional year in his life, and what he hoped to share about himself from this memoir. I think I will be hard-pressed to be much wowed by any teenager’s final year of high school, which is what his year in Rome amounted to, and while he did end with a chapter that really tried to dig out some meaning I wasn’t particularly moved.
The writing was ethereal in its style, and yet at the same time trying to appeal to the senses. He would contain entire conversations with multiple speakers in a single paragraph, compressing time and memory in ways that were effective in terms of bringing those places to life. But they were ultimately the experiences of a scared, intelligent, emotional, undecisive teenager. Once in a while Aciman would conclude a paragraph with some sort of pithy sentiment or lesson, but these often felt as airy and ethereal as the prose. It felt like he was including them because a memoir is supposed to have such things, but it took effort to pluck them through the dreamy veil of his experiences. This made the final chapter, which is all him as an adult trying to sort through his time in Rome, including returning to the street he lived on with his family in tow, feel less organic than the rest of his chapters. It felt like it had to do too much, too much meaning to make in such a short time, and yet I do suppose that was his experience, as well. So maybe it is fitting.
There are some beautiful insights in the final chapter, which certainly offer a peek into his relationship with literature and writing, which I found moving. “What my favorite authors were asking of me was that I read them intimately—not read my own pulse onto their work, but read their pulse as though it were my own, the height of arrogance. By trusting my deepest, most personal insights, I was in fact tapping into, or divining, an author’s vision.” I suppose that the hope is that the reader find their pulse throughout the memoir, their pulse in his evocative stories of familial unrest, of nervous, fumbling encounters, of the pleasure of bookstores, and so on. While I was impressed by the language and prose I felt there was always some distance that kept me from really feeling a full immersion, from finding him through finding myself in his anecdotes and memories.
So that is all to say, sentimental and skillful writing, which I cannot deny, but not writing that spoke to me. ...more
So… I didn’t love this. I appreciated the overall project. As he describes in his 2013 foreword, by the mid and late 20th century neurology had becomeSo… I didn’t love this. I appreciated the overall project. As he describes in his 2013 foreword, by the mid and late 20th century neurology had become divorced from psychology and was viewed as a science purely of the biological, and Sacks felt a need to push against that. Part and parcel with that was the style of narrative case study, which reminded the reader – be they a medical professional or not – that these are not merely collections of symptoms or biological anomalies, but human beings with genuine and meaningful lives. I think that whole idea is great. And I should be clear about what didn’t bother me, too. As he mentions in the 2013 foreword, language and ideas have changed dramatically since this was published, and not only would he not use the same language there are various things he would change if writing this again. And our diagnostic capacity for neurologic disruptions has progressed an incredible amount in the four decades since this was published. Neither of these I hold against the collection.
So, why does this rate so poorly for me? Look, I appreciate that he is being compassionate and he does seem to care for his patients as whole beings. He never speaks of them in any sort of disparaging language or ways that makes them less than completely human. But this collection still gave me the feeling of a circus freak show. He pulls out these examples and provides the barest of diagnostic explanation and highlights how bizarre and unreal and abnormal these individuals are. I don’t think he for a minute exploited his patients, but it gave me that experience, they were objects of entertainment and not the complete people he was trying to insist that they were. My frustration was compounded in the last section, which focuses on individuals with Autism Spectrum Disorder as well as mental development problems (whether due to genetics or illness). In the postscript for the second entry in this section he says that not only did he not read the literally decades’ worth of scientific literature written about people with similar maladies, he didn’t even know it existed, and all of the accounts save for the first in this section were written before he was even aware that such scientific work had been done (and that is just the writing of these sections, never mind when he actually engaged with the individuals profiled). So this whole section is a lot of wild projection, not based on his expertise in neurology but just on his pseudo-spiritual instincts about what these peoples’ inner lives simply had to be like. He describes a number game being played by a pair of autistic twins: “It was perhaps a sort of game, but it had a gravity and an intensity, a sort of serene and meditative and almost holy intensity which I had never seen in any ordinary game before….” This feels like a wild amount of preposterous projection, similar to insisting another person’s world “was” music, another’s was dance and poetry, and so on. He fixates on savants and his attempt to insist that (these specific) neurodivergent individuals just sets them off as special, again, a traveling circus of oddities. “Come up and see the flipper girl! Sure she can’t feed herself but she just loves the water, its her world, so gaze upon her and don’t feel bad for gawking!”
Yeah, I just didn’t get on with these. I think neuroscience is remarkably interesting, and I think any effort to humanize patients, making it clear that they are not their particular disease or malady, is hugely important. But this collection felt almost tawdry, not insightful. Sacks projects his own psychological and spiritual/theological ideologies interpretations onto these individuals’ lives, and he does so in such a way that actually erases their own voices. Yes, neurology should be more than simple biology. Yes, patients’ humanity should be emphasized as the priority, not a diagnostic afterthought. Yes, there is something to learn about ourselves and how we experience and react to the world by exploring how others with different psycho-emotional, biological, intellectual, and cultural resources do so. All of the ideas that fuel this book are great, but the execution just left me frustrated. ...more
Chomsky is an incredible intellectual, and his ideas and opinions are always supported by a deep understanding of history. This collection of intervieChomsky is an incredible intellectual, and his ideas and opinions are always supported by a deep understanding of history. This collection of interviews proves no different, as he shares his thoughts on various contemporary issues. What is most compelling is that his strong opinions have a basis in a broad knowledge, and all of his positions feel grounded in a context much bigger than what we are usually given by the media. In that regard I enjoyed all of these interviews and think there is value in them.
With that said, other than as maintaining an archive of his work and thought, I do question who exactly this is for. This is the fourth such collection of interviews that Haymarket Books have published, so I suppose there is an audience for them. As much as I really appreciate Chomsky’s thought, I don’t think I may be that audience. These interviews range from July 2022 through June 2023, and they all cover contemporary events. They are all relatively short and aren’t presenting any larger or cohesive thesis or argument; they are responses to specific events as they happen. As such the collection feels like a time capsule, but not, more than a year after the final interview took place, while the history and deep understanding that birthed Chomsky’s position hasn’t changed, the circumstances certainly have. Everything feels so topical that it is hard to grasp onto to one thing as a core idea or take away, other than the refrains Chomsky has been singing for decades (which boil down to how neoliberalism is a “savage class warfare,” and greed and wealth inequality, from which grow militarism and so forth, will basically doom us all). It is not that his responses aren’t still relevant, but, given how fast the world is moving they sometimes feel like they are out of step with the scale of issues happening at the moment.
Plus, there is the curious decision to structure the interviews in reverse chronological order, so the newest is first in the collection, and the oldest is last. Especially with the number of essays on the war in Ukraine this just feels odd, because instead of seeing the growth and development and commitment to his position we see almost a regression. Maybe there is a useful reason for reverse chronological order, but it didn’t feel useful to me, it felt like it stripped away context even more. Additionally, the format led to a lot of overlap, not just in ideas but in turns of phrase, and that level of repetition didn’t reinforce his thought as much as made it expected, by the end. In a similar vein, it is hard to feel like the interviews live up to the title. In the introduction we are reminded that Chomsky always insists on “optimism over despair,” that he believes in humanity. But to suggest that he offers viable solutions to any of the issues would be wildly avoiding reality. Does he propose what would be, if they were ever implemented, actually effective at combatting the issues he addresses? Yes, certainly. But none of those solutions are pragmatic, insofar as they would require billionaires and oppressive governments and those most empowered and strengthened by their greed and lack of human decency to entirely reverse course and choose to work for humanity instead of for themselves. It is almost the opposite of hope, because it shows that things don’t have to be the way they are but the mechanisms for actually changing things seem to lie far outside of the hands of ordinary people. Basically, if those with all the power chose to give up their power than we could fix things, but otherwise… ?
In short, Chomsky’s thought is always engaging, and even at 95 he is a deep well of expansive insight. This book serves as a great archive of his engagement with contemporary issues, to which he brings an incredibly detailed understanding of the history of power. It that it succeeds and can be a valuable resource in that way.
I want to thank the author, the publisher Haymarket Books, and NetGalley, who provided a complimentary eARC for review. I am leaving this review voluntarily....more
Even having read his work before, and even after hearing him speak, I am always blown away by how affecting and effective Ta-Nehisi Coates’s prose is Even having read his work before, and even after hearing him speak, I am always blown away by how affecting and effective Ta-Nehisi Coates’s prose is. The Message is no exception, showing off his mastery at making the abstract personal, and refusing to flinch when confronted with overwhelming odds. There is a depth of humanity in his writing, and while outrage and grief may be the fuel it is a fire of solidarity and resilience that burns brightest.
I appreciated all three sections, and the ways in which he allowed them to echo and reflect each other. The final section on his trip to Palestine is getting the most attention, perhaps deservedly, as it deftly weaves together an enormous number of threads with humility and heart to accompany the scholarship. But I especially appreciated the framing device of the collection. By locating this collection as a series of essays written to his students in a writing class it allows him to repeatedly examine language, literature, and art as modes of political expression, demonstration, and growth. This may be most explicit in the second essay, since that is specifically addressing book banning, but it is a touchstone that is returned to in each essay, and one I found very powerful.
This collection isn’t long, and while filled with scholarship it is not academic but emotional. It is incredibly painful to read at times, but also inspiring. While it can be read relatively quickly, the seeds it plants promise to sprout deep roots and grow for countless years to come. ...more
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