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| 1250077036
| 9781250077035
| 1250077036
| 4.03
| 43,436
| Apr 06, 2021
| Apr 06, 2021
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really liked it
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I’ve always maintained that Jenny Lawson is hilarious in the best possible way, and Broken (in the Best Possible Way) only sustains this opinion. What
I’ve always maintained that Jenny Lawson is hilarious in the best possible way, and Broken (in the Best Possible Way) only sustains this opinion. What is the best possible way to be hilarious? With a generous helping of compassion. With self-deprecation that also recognizes that your self is human and valuable too. Even as Lawson makes fun of herself and others, she acknowledges that she deserves compassion and patience. To be broken is not to be without value—a message that our capitalist society forgets at times. If you have read either of Lawson’s previous books, you’ll know what to expect for this one. If you haven’t: basically, it’s a series of essays that pose as memoirs and hilarious stories but are also, often, thoughtful reflections on our lives. Lawson lives with several chronic illnesses, such as rheumatoid arthritis, anxiety, and depression. In several of her essays, she describes to varying degrees her frustrations with her mind, her body, and the insurance company that seems determined not to let her treat either (fuck the American healthcare system, wow). She talks about undergoing transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS). But she also writes about trying to befriend an owl, about shaving her dog’s vulva, and so many other things (actually, a lot of it is animal related, now that I think about it). While the goal is certainly to make us laugh, it’s the kind of laughter that comes with an awareness of the heavier things in life. One part of the book that really got to me was when she described her experiences with family members with dementia. This runs in my family and scares me. I understand that Lawson’s framing of senility as a kind of second childhood is meant to be reassuring, but it left me uneasy (this is not a criticism, just a reflection of my reaction to this essay). This is not something I like to think about, the prospect that one day, I too may begin to lose myself, or at least become unmoored from the linear experience of time and left to drift on the ocean of my memories. It was a little easier to absorb Lawson’s moving discussions of things that feel a little more removed from me. I haven’t experienced depression or serious anxiety, and I appreciate how open she is about her battles with both. In particular, I appreciated her acknowledgement that TMS worked for her but has not cured her, that it is a wonderful treatment and could potentially benefit others but isn’t some miracle therapy we should immediately recommend to everyone. So often, when someone with clout undergoes such a treatment, they stan it so hard that it makes me uncomfortable. Lawson responsibly and honestly documents her experiences, diary-style, in a way that I imagine will resonate with many. I also enjoyed Lawson’s honesty about how difficult a marriage is, and her opinion that the secret to not getting divorced is, in her case, a combination of laziness and a faulty memory! Finally, as someone who has recently started a career as a freelance copyeditor, I enjoyed the chapter where all she does is share notes between her and her editors. Brilliant. I definitely think copyediting this book would have been … interesting. Overall, this was a good read and perfect for my mood when I read it. I do think that Lawson’s sense of humour is the kind to which I become inured over time. Don’t get me wrong—I definitely laughed out loud, multiple times, as I read this book. If anything, I am impressed that Lawson can so consistently produce these quality books. At the same time, I’m struggling to come up with praise that is unique from what I have said in the past. She’s a brilliant, funny writer, and if you want to laugh about the sensitive side of life, come and join her in these pages. Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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May 09, 2022
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May 13, 2022
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May 28, 2022
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Hardcover
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| 1848587597
| 9781848587595
| 1848587597
| 3.85
| 30,384
| 1837
| 2012
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liked it
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I probably made a mistake by trying to read this at the beginning of a week off. I’ve attempted The Pickwick Papers twice before in the past year. Eac
I probably made a mistake by trying to read this at the beginning of a week off. I’ve attempted The Pickwick Papers twice before in the past year. Each time, the book eluded me, my interest in it slipping away before I was more than 10 pages in. Charles Dickens is, as usual, an excellent writer but one whose style is heavily idiosyncratic in a way that does not lend itself to the preferred prose styles of today. This, his first novel and serialized like most of his others, establishes many of the tropes for which Dickens becomes known over his impressive career. The eponymous Mr. Pickwick is the leader of a kind of gentlemen’s club, and as the book opens, we see that he has persuaded the club to defray the costs of his rambles around the English countryside along with a couple of his friends. Over the course of about 700 pages, Dickens gets Mr. Pickwick into various scrapes and funny scenarios. Knowing that this book is a farce is extremely helpful in seeking to enjoy it, for otherwise you might conclude that the book is incredibly contrived and unrealistic. That’s rather the point! See, this is entirely the reason I read 19th-century British literature. There are a few authors (particularly Eliot and Hardy) whom I adore and whose prose I think is truly exquisite. Dickens is passable at best, in my opinion—yet his characters, his stories, his ideas—wow! Seriously, have you read A Christmas Carol? There’s a reason it has been adapted so many times and—depending on which starving and desperate Dickens scholar you track down in their tiny office at the end of a disused corridor three wings over from the actual English department at your university—it was a hefty contributor to the renaissance of Christmas celebrations in Victorian England that resulted ultimately in many of the traditions we celebrate today. But I digress. I read 19th-century British literature because a great way to understand a time is to read about it from the lips of people who lived through it. As mentioned above, Victorian Britain was hugely influential throughout the world. Reading Dickens provides valuable insight into the shape of that society, the warp and weft not just of its political decisions but of the lives of the everyday people who moved through it. As he does this, he loves to poke fun, to satirize and provide biting commentary. Much like Bleak House , my most beloved Dickens title, The Pickwick Papers places solicitors firmly in its crosshairs. There is a significant courtroom drama subplot here, complete with a fanciful and funny trial scene. Similarly, Dickens takes aim at the ridiculously stratified nature of debtors’ prisons—not just that people who could not or would not pay a debt were imprisoned, but that for rich debtors it was basically a kind of holiday where you could obtain anything you wanted from beyond the prison if only you wanted to pay for it. In this way, there is so much enjoyment to be had from the cross-class depictions of characters Dickens delivers for us. From the wealthy, older Pickwick to his similarly well-off, younger companions to the youthful but poorer manservant that Pickwick engages, we have ourselves quite a diverse slice of urban English society. Many of the goings-on (from debtors’ prison to brawls over political newspapers and elections to Pickwick’s embarrassment at walking in on a lady’s room in an inn) might seem very alien and perhaps less amusing to modern readers, who lack a lot of the assumed context for these jokes. This is the Achilles’ heel of comedy, of course: it is usually far too topical, and over time its sting fades because our understanding of that which it critiques has faded too. Nevertheless, if you read carefully, I still think there is a lot of fun to be had here. Really my dissatisfaction with the book is entirely subjective—it’s too long, too boring at times, and for some reason it really made me want to re-read Of Human Bondage (but I need a few palate cleansers before I tackle another huge book!). I suspect that if you like Dickens or Dickens-adjacent works, you will like The Pickwick Papers. If you tend to avoid Dickens like … well, like the Dickens, then this book probably won’t be the one that changes your mind. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 27, 2020
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Jul 02, 2020
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Jun 27, 2020
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Paperback
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| 0316056898
| 9780316056892
| 0316056898
| 3.96
| 1,021,989
| Apr 05, 2011
| Jan 29, 2013
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liked it
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My boss, fittingly, gave me Bossypants! She gave it to me in June after I broke my elbow, and I promptly put it on my shelf and did not read it, like
My boss, fittingly, gave me Bossypants! She gave it to me in June after I broke my elbow, and I promptly put it on my shelf and did not read it, like I do with most books. But now is the time! The time to read Tina Fey’s comedic memoir. Let’s start with the obvious: Fey is a comedy genius. That isn’t in question. She is funny. This book is funny. If you like her other work, you’ll like this book. The first half, which discusses her early life, didn’t do a lot for me. But once Fey begins discussing her work in comedy, particularly on Saturday Night Live, I was very interested. See, I love it when people use humour for a serious purpose. And as much as Fey is obviously trying to entertain us, there is definitely a more serious thesis. With Bossypants, Fey pulls back the curtain and explains some of her thinking and choices behind her various career decisions. This is valuable stuff for … pretty much any audience, but especially I expect for young women, and in particular, young women looking to break into comedy or entertainment. I never really watched much SNL. However, I remember when Fey came back to the show to portray Sarah Palin. So the chapters where she discusses her ambivalence about that moment were so fascinating. She explains how she second-guessed herself, how she was worried about the attention and backlash (particularly for her family), and how she questioned whether it was the right move in terms of the type of political commentary she wanted to do. Political commentary is difficult enough to do at the best of times. To do it in that climate, as a woman, is particularly challenging. Fey goes on in a similar vein about balancing career and family life (something men, of course, never seem to need to deliberate or discuss!). Even having a child doesn’t stop her from continuing 30 Rock, because, as she notes, other people’s jobs depend on the show. Similarly, she expresses how one of her goals as a successful woman in the industry is to open the door to more young, up-and-coming women who could be the next generation of actors, directors, showrunners, etc. Fey expresses all this with humour and humility and no small amount of sarcasm. For a book called Bossypants, I think I was expecting something more about management and about being a woman in a position of authority. (Certainly in my newfound status of womanhood, such sage advice might have been even more welcome!) Fey does reflect, somewhat, on her management style versus those of the men (and occasional woman, like Amy Poehler) around her. Nevertheless, this book is more memoir than management seminar, and if you can surrender that expectation like I did, you’ll enjoy this a lot more. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Mar 05, 2020
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Mar 08, 2020
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Mar 05, 2020
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 194650114X
| 9781946501141
| 194650114X
| 3.85
| 95
| unknown
| Sep 24, 2019
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did not like it
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I received this book from Tiny Fox Press and NetGalley in exchange for a review. Apocalypse How? is a messy trainwreck, and if that’s your style, you’l I received this book from Tiny Fox Press and NetGalley in exchange for a review. Apocalypse How? is a messy trainwreck, and if that’s your style, you’ll probably enjoy it. For the rest of us … let’s just say that I kind of knew how I felt about this book less than 50 pages in, and maybe I should have stopped there. This is basically “Indiana Jones in space” but make Indiana a young woman named Dakota Adams and instead of being an erstwhile archaeology professor she’s a struggling archaeology streamer. Pile on a few more Hitchhiker’s, Doctor Who, and other cult references—I’m sure there’s plenty I missed—then add a frenetic, non-stop rush from one nonsensical set piece to the next, and you’ve got the formula for this book. Galen Surlak-Ramsey pays tribute to numerous cult classic and pop cultural properties of the past, and I’m sure it comes from a place of love. But the overall effect is a bit too cutesy, a bit too rompish, a bit too put on for my tastes. Allusion is a tricky literary beast. Like most seasonings, a little bit goes a long way. The protagonist’s name, or another name here or there, might have been fine by themselves. But the constant little references makes it seem like the book is showing off. I don’t feel like an insider being rewarded for getting the in-jokes; I feel like I’m being forced to sit through 300 pages of the author showing us how clever he is for working them into the story. It distracts and detracts from the author’s own original ideas—and let’s be clear here: Apocalypse How? does have a cool plot to it. Oh, right, yeah, sorry, you probably want one of my one-paragraph plot summaries! Here we go. Dakota Adams is Space Indiana Jones. She gallivants around the galaxy for the glory, the gold, and the 6 people who watch her livestream. She has a furry partner (in the Wookie sense, not the lifestyle sense) named Tolby, and he keeps the ship running so Dakota can keep running from whatever nasty alien creature is chasing her at the time. Dakota’s dream is to find tech from the elusive, perhaps mythical Progenitors, who are exactly what they sound like. When she finally does, the story really gets started, because now an interstellar mob boss is after her, except she suddenly acquires the ability to hop through space-time at the expense of her memories. Soon we’re in a non-linear race to escape a multidimensional spacetime museum that is going to be/will have been/has been destroyed (ugh, time travel tenses). As mentioned above, I have zero issues with the plot itself. I don’t mind authors leaning on the idea of nigh-omnipotent extinct advanced species who scatter their tech around the universe like candy. The idea that Dakota is on the run from a criminal with enterprise-level resources, and that she’s then in a race against time (literally) to escape before this museum gets destroyed? Makes total sense. I’m in. Let’s do it. Alas, Surlak-Ramsey’s writing style just leaves me so unsatisfied. First, we almost never get a break. I really like the “scene and sequel” approach to storytelling, but what we get with Apocalypse How? is mostly scene and precious little sequel. The sequels we do find tend to be repetitive and circular (Dakota’s fragmentary memory and time travelling doesn’t help this). Instead, Dakota is typically barrelling from one crisis directly into the next. (I’d comment that this sounds like an Indiana Jones movie, but actually I’ve never watched one. I know, fie!) The consequence is my second complaint: there is so little character development here it’s like trying to watch paint dry if paint could jump through time. Dakota starts the book as an overconfident, smartass adventure-seeker. She ends the book the same way. Once in a while there are moments where it looks like she’s reflecting and maybe growing and learning some humility. But nope. It bothers me when books’ protagonists start out as badasses without having demonstrated why they’ve earned it. Dakota keeps screwing up, time and again, and it’s really only the time travel power she has that lets her get out of numerous bad decisions. Ironically it might be Tolby, her sidekick, who experiences the most character development of anyone. The rest of the characters, from Pizmo to the Curator to Mister Cyber Squid, are literally one-dimensional stock and archetypes. Nothing wrong with those, of course. But if all your characters are paper-thin, the light source at the top of the literary skybox shines through way too easily, and suddenly it’s all just shadows on the cave wall, you dig? We briefly interact with Dakota’s brother, and she mentions her parents a couple of times, yet we never actually learn where they’re at or what her relationship with them is really like. In other words, Apocalypse How? is a novel of brilliantly squandered opportunities. I think this is pretty common when authors try to be humorous at the expense of digging deeper. Douglas Adams, from whom Surlak-Ramsey borrows a surname and a lot of references, understood deeply that the absurd is a tool for holding back the despair that we get when we stare into the abyss, the emptiness on the edge of human consciousness. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series begins with the destruction of the Earth, and each book becomes progressively darker, despite its patina of humour, because Adams is ultimately writing about the cold, capricious nature of life. Every time Arthur Dent tries to do something proactive, the universe smacks him down; the most well-adjusted characters, like Zaphod or the character who might be God, are the ones who go with the flow and accept that life is inherently nonsensical. Moving further afield, consider another favourite TV show of mine, Farscape. This is a show about a human stranded far, far from home without much hope of ever returning there, and he falls in with a group of fugitives. The show is unforgivably funny yet also incredibly sad and bittersweet as well—again, because the writers understand that the humour goes hand-in-hand with the darkness that it must stave off. Despite its title and the intense, life-threatening situation in which Dakota finds herself, Apocalypse How? never stops mugging for the reader long enough to establish that essential contrast to make the humour work for me. There is a competent adventure story here, but I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy it as much as I wanted. Your mileage might vary, but if you’ve been reading my reviews long enough to get a sense of my humour and what works/doesn’t work for me, you can judge whether you’ll be in my camp or not. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Oct 10, 2019
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Oct 13, 2019
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Oct 10, 2019
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Paperback
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| 1683690400
| 9781683690405
| B075HY5NPF
| 3.51
| 14,118
| Jul 10, 2018
| Jul 10, 2018
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liked it
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I learned about Hope Never Dies from Twitter, and am I ever glad I did. I don’t read a lot of spoofs and parodies, but when I do, I like to read ones
I learned about Hope Never Dies from Twitter, and am I ever glad I did. I don’t read a lot of spoofs and parodies, but when I do, I like to read ones like Andrew Shaffer’s. It is delightful. Joe Biden has been out of office for a while now, and while his former friend Barack is living the high celeb life, old Joe is … well, feeling his age. His life gets shaken up when, one day, an Amtrak conductor Joe knew from his days of riding those rails turns up dead under mysterious circumstances. Barack warns Joe that this conductor might have been targeting Joe for some reason … and slowly, the two of them, plus Barack’s Secret Service bodyguard, are drawn into a criminal conspiracy that stretches as far as the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware. Along the way, there are car chases, gun fights, and serious bro discussions about friendship. Buckle up. Look, Real Talk™ for a moment. Barack Obama was an historic president for his race and other reasons, yes, and like every single President of the United States, he is also hugely problematic. Being a Black Democratic President did not make him immune from controversial decisions, strategies, and executive orders. Remember how Gitmo was going to be closed? How about those drone strikes? So, in endorsing and enjoying this book, I’m not here to lionize Obama’s legacy or endorse the idea that another old white guy should have been the Democratic nominee instead of Hillary Clinton. Hope Never Dies works precisely because it is a parody piece. It imagines a dafter, lighter universe in which Barack and Biden are buddy-buddies, able to engage in this kind of odd-couple road mystery comedy shenanigans. And, really really, I just really needed this at this moment in history, and I am certain I’m not alone. Full disclosure: I’m not American, I’m Canadian (and white, and a man), so I’m very insulated from a lot of the bizarro universe stuff that’s happening south of my border. To be fair, though, my province (Ontario) just elected Donald Trump Lite (Doug Ford) and his Progressive Conservative government has, in a few weeks, already begun to run rough-shod over anything remotely socialist or progressive within our province. I’ve really avoided watching darker TV shows lately. I have so many Black Mirror episodes to watch, but I just can’t. I can’t handle that darkness. The best I can do is Good Girls, which is so brilliant; mostly I’ve just watched reruns of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and other extremely humorous, light-hearted shows. I need that in my life. I need to know that hope never dies. Shaffer nails Biden’s characterization, or at least, as someone who knows literally nothing about Joe Biden beyond the fact that he was the Vice President of the United States, I think Shaffer nails it. He has clearly done his research. Biden’s voice sounds exactly like one might imagine from an older Democratic politician from Delaware. His similes and metaphors are on point, as is the way he interprets and navigates the world around him. In other words, Shaffer didn’t just take a generic “amateur sleuth” character template and paste Joe Biden’s name and profile features onto it: he took the time to really make this main character feel like a credible simulacrum of the public persona of Joe Biden. Similarly, I really enjoyed the way Shaffer portrays Obama. Remember that this is all through Faux-Biden’s first-person perspective, and as such is unreliable. Barack comes off as a bit of a know-it-all! He constantly corrects, interjects, and explains at length when no one asked a question. He’s the guy who knows something about everything, and he can’t help but tell you about it. Honestly, the mystery was the least attractive element. The climax sort of sneaks up on you, and the villain is a bit of a stretch. It makes sense, and I guess in some ways it’s a trope of the genre, but it’s one of those things that I either missed the signposts for, or else the turn-off was buried between two legitimate exits and I never had a chance. But I didn’t come here for the mystery. I came for Barack and Joe’s bromance, and this book delivers. Hope Never Dies is far from the best spoof I’ve read, but it is good enough. And for its purpose, that is enough. If, like me, you briefly want to live in a universe where Barack Obama and Joe Biden drive a suped-up Escalade and then talk about their feelings, then you should read this book. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jul 29, 2018
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Jul 30, 2018
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Jul 18, 2018
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ebook
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| 0765398648
| 9780765398642
| 0765398648
| 3.81
| 894
| Jun 26, 2018
| Jun 26, 2018
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liked it
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Space … the final frontier. Our mission … to boldly go … and steal aliens’ shit…. Gate Crashers is a fun romp, as you might say. Patrick S. Tomlinson
Space … the final frontier. Our mission … to boldly go … and steal aliens’ shit…. Gate Crashers is a fun romp, as you might say. Patrick S. Tomlinson writes characters with a combination of humility and hilarity, people who might seem a little larger than life but still all-too-human. This is the Brooklyn Nine-Nine of space opera comedies. The human exploration vessel Magellan suspends its thirty light-year voyage when it encounters a mysterious device of alien origin. As its crew tries to unlock its secrets, they remain in instantaneous contact with people back on Earth—people who weren’t even born when they set out. Meanwhile, members of the coalition of alien species who left that device out there have noticed its absence and the human spaceship. And that might not be so good for humanity. But if you were expecting a dramatic, high-stakes thriller, you might need to re-calibrate. There are high stakes here, up to and including the survival of humanity—but there is also a lot of humour. Tomlinson explicitly acknowledges the influence of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in his acknowledgements, and that’s very clear. I was also reminded a lot of John Scalzi’s writing, where the stakes are quite high, but the interactions among humans and aliens are also a little silly. If you’re a fan of some of Scalzi’s SF, you would probably enjoy the dynamic here in Gate Crashers. The main plot takes a while to get started, in my opinion. It’s a while before the humans actually get to confront the aliens, and while there are some good moments beforehand as the tension builds, the book gets really good once the humans are in the thick of an intergalactic power gambit. There’s a great mixture of types of people on the human crew. From the over-the-top womanizer with a tactical mind to the female captain with a lot of gumption to the physicist-turned-hyperspace-tech from Luna with no practical experience, there is plenty of disagreement and reluctant compromises. This keeps things interesting even as we learn about the alien species humanity has come into contact/conflict with. Sometimes Tomlinson’s exposition is too infodumpy for my tastes. In this he emulates Adams quite a bit, but where Adams writes with years of experience parodying bureaucracy in British sketch and television comedy, Tomlinson brings a history of stand-up to the table. This results in a slightly different style and tone, and that is by no means bad, but it doesn’t appeal to me quite as much. Or maybe it’s just that, after years of read and re-reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy so much my Trilogy in Four Parts omnibus’ dog ears have dog ears, nothing is as good as the original flavour. (I wholeheartedly agree with Tomlinson’s dismal opinion of the “sixth” book, may we never speak of it again.) So I could do less with the descriptions of the Lividites’ emotional shortcomings and pharmacological solutions. Less with the discussions of the AESA administrator’s political misgivings. Still, these digressions aside, Gate Crashers is a remarkably straightforward and enjoyable story. The antagonists have clear motives beyond “humans must die”. The humans have a diverse range of viewpoints, from xenophobia to territorialism to curiosity and a spirit of exploration. The resolution to the plot is a little rushed, but on the whole, it’s an exciting enough book that I stayed up way past my bedtime to finish it. So if you want science fiction that is funny, and original, then you can’t really go wrong with this. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Aug 03, 2018
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Aug 04, 2018
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May 31, 2018
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 1472115074
| 9781472115072
| 1472115074
| 3.46
| 16,177
| Apr 10, 2018
| Oct 04, 2018
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I stuck it out for 50 pages or so but was pretty sure 10 pages in that Space Opera isn’t for me. Surprised? Me too. This has everything I usually like I stuck it out for 50 pages or so but was pretty sure 10 pages in that Space Opera isn’t for me. Surprised? Me too. This has everything I usually like in humorous, Douglas Adams–inspired science fiction: lengthy infodumps, absurd alien species, human characters so over the top they might as well be on Everest … but it just … didn’t work. Catherynne Valente’s prose just tries too hard for me. That’s not really a critique in any serious sense. I know a lot of people loved this, and I fully expected to love it too. But every second paragraph-length digressive sentence had me screaming, “Get on with it!” in a way that The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy never did. Anyway, I know well enough to know that when I have that grating feeling, I shouldn’t trudge ahead. ...more |
Notes are private!
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0
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not set
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not set
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Apr 19, 2018
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Hardcover
| |||||||||||||||
| 0804138141
| 9780804138147
| 0804138141
| 3.91
| 220,623
| Sep 15, 2015
| Sep 15, 2015
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liked it
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First off, an update on the shoe situation: I’m much faster at putting on shoes now. I’ve been training hard, lots of montages and such, and I’m proud
First off, an update on the shoe situation: I’m much faster at putting on shoes now. I’ve been training hard, lots of montages and such, and I’m proud to say I’ve seen great improvement. Why Not Me? is the second autobiographical set of essays from Mindy Kaling. In Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns), Kaling told us about her childhood and the path that led to her involvement with The Office. In this book, Kaling reflects more on her adult life, talks about developing her own TV show, and shares her opinions on being in the position of a somewhat recognizable celebrity. Kaling’s humour once again suffuses her writing, with delightful sentences such as, “… a honeymoon is, after all, a sex vacation you’re giving yourself after a massive party in your honour”. But this book probably works so well because it neither glamourizes nor downplays the life of a Hollywood actor/writer. In one chapter, Kaling describes a typical day of working on the set of The Mindy Project, from waking at an ungodly hour to get to work, to going to bed at an ungodly hour after a long day of acting, writing, editing, and occasionally cake-eating. Replete with (often unflattering) pictures to illustrate the long process of early-morning makeup and late-night editing, this chapter reminds us that making TV shows is hard work for everyone involved. Typical coverage of celebrities tends to focus on the red carpet galas and extravagant premieres, but this over-emphasis on the glamour of acting in Hollywood detracts from the hard work it takes to actually make these entertainments. On the flip side, though, Kaling is quick to acknowledge the disconnect between her experiences now versus her experiences a decade ago. She mentions hiring a “team of stylists” and then remarks on how weird it is to say that—but that it’s also incredibly useful. Kaling is careful not to minimize the impact that her increasing success has had on her life. Claims by celebrities that they are “just like us” tend to ring hollow. Firstly, it’s obvious that all celebrities are actually lizard people in human suits. Secondly, it doesn’t matter how famous a celebrity is: just living and existing in that particular sphere of social interaction necessitates a different lifestyle. Kaling remains down to earth, but she never claims to be “just like us” (doesn’t deny the lizard thing either, you notice). In case it’s not obvious, I’m not necessarily Kaling’s target audience. She goes so far as to explicitly acknowledge this in her introduction. So take my three-star rating with that grain of salt. Nevertheless, there were a couple of passages that resonated with me, such as this one from her chapter on weddings and friendship: Until I realized: this long expanse of free time to rekindle friendships is not real. We will never come home to each other again and we will never again have each other’s undivided attention. That version of our friendship is over forever. Every once in a while, Kaling drops nuggets of hard truth in between her jokes. I shared the above realization with her as I have grown older. Many of my friends have moved away, or entered into long-term relationships, even had kids—and this is great and all, but it is a big change. Particularly as someone who doesn’t enjoy “going out” and prefers to have one or two close friends over just to hang out, it’s a change that requires a lot of adjustment. I also enjoyed this observation about differences between women’s and men’s magazines: I laugh thinking about if they ever tried to do “Who Wore It Best?” for men’s magazines. They wouldn’t, because no one would care. Men don’t care which men looked better in the same clothes because it’s so obviously a huge waste of time. It’s also why they don’t have astrology sections in men’s magazines. Zing! But a zing with a heavy dose of truth about different expectations of genders. And so this is why, even if I’m not the target audience and not, in fact, a huge fan of Kaling herself, I still enjoyed Why Not Me?. It’s modest but honest, and rather than serving up chapter after chapter of fluff, Kaling sticks in real, thoughtful, often feminist observations about our society. This is a book that can check off both the “easy read” and “meaningful read” boxes on the reading checklist I know you keep beside your bed. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Oct 19, 2016
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Oct 20, 2016
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Oct 19, 2016
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Hardcover
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| 0670064750
| 9780670064755
| 0670064750
| 4.16
| 313
| Sep 17, 2013
| Sep 17, 2013
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really liked it
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This will be a short review. I don’t have a lot to say about Time Now for the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange. If you are familiar with the Vinyl Cafe, then
This will be a short review. I don’t have a lot to say about Time Now for the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange. If you are familiar with the Vinyl Cafe, then you know what the Story Exchange is. If not, then while you might still enjoy this book, it probably won’t have the same resonance for you. There are some gems of stories in this book. I’ve heard most of them (because I’ve listened to The Vinyl Cafe for that long, and some have been re-broadcast because they are just that good). Reading them, however, is a treat. I do enjoy Stuart McLean’s voice and his storytelling habits; however, some of these stories shine simply through the power of their writers’ words. Not all of these stories are equally funny or touching; a few seem merely silly or elicit a bit of a shrug from me. But there are more than enough in here to make the book worth reading. Plus, the stories really are short. Reading this in little spurts, one or two stories at a time, is very easy. In fact, I’d say breaking up your reading of this book isn’t just easy but almost required. I slammed this back over two baseball games (I read between innings and during pitching changes, of which we have lots in this college league). You try paying attention to a baseball game when you’re holding back tears! Not all of these stories are heartbreakers, but there are enough in here to routinely make my eyes water. That includes my all time favourite story exchange story (and there are many I’m overly fond of), titled here “A Proposal of Hope” from Michael Gallagher. I’ve previously mentioned how I would listen to the Vinyl Cafe when walking through the country market while I lived in England. One day, this very story was featured. I listened while picking out fresh fruits and veg for my week … and then I started crying. In the middle of the Bury St Edmunds marketplace. Because seriously. I’m not an overly-sentimental or soppy person, although I do cry at the end of a fair number of romantic movies (or the series finale of Chuck). Nevertheless, of all the stories that made me tear up in this collection, “A Proposal of Hope” is the one that sucker punches you. It’s the happy ending, I think, that twist that makes you realize good things do occasionally happen. Those of you who have heard this story will understand why. If you haven’t, you can listen to Stuart’s telling of it in an episode from July 2014—it starts at the 11:30 mark and is about 6 and a half minutes long; it is well worth that time. This is, of course, what the Story Exchange is all about. If Stuart McLean and the Vinyl Cafe are a celebration of the best qualities of Canadian culture, from storytelling to music to the history of our country, then the Story Exchange is a celebration of the stories within all of us. We may not all be writers; we may not all have the talent, time, or inclination to record our words. But all of us have stories within, experiences worth sharing. McLean offers an outlet for that, a wonderful outlet, and this book collects some of those worthy tales. In this digital age there is much talk of “curating content”. Well, this is curated content at its very best. While I don’t want to give the impression that every single one of these stories is uplifting or positive, that is the general tone I get from this collection. The few stories that have a sense of wistfulness or regret are worthy and interesting. And, in general, there is much to be said for books that make us meditate on the darker parts of life. Overall, however, this is a nice way to balance out those books. Time Now for the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange is a repository of bright moments in the lives of Vinyl Cafe listeners all over Canada and the States. It’s just a really nice book to read. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 12, 2016
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Jun 13, 2016
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Jun 12, 2016
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Hardcover
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| 0670064742
| 9780670064748
| 0670064742
| 4.33
| 690
| Sep 25, 2012
| Sep 25, 2012
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really liked it
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I didn’t go to the Vinyl Cafe Christmas Concert this year, because I was feeling burnt out and wasn’t interested in going out that weekend. It turned
I didn’t go to the Vinyl Cafe Christmas Concert this year, because I was feeling burnt out and wasn’t interested in going out that weekend. It turned out to be the last concert of the year, because Stuart McLean announced a melanoma diagnosis and cancelled the other shows. He seems positive and upbeat so far. I thought I’d dig into this, one of the more recent Vinyl Cafe collections of Dave and Morley stories, and share some thoughts on why McLean is a celebrated Canadian author. I love the Vinyl Cafe and listen to it regularly, in podcast form. It was particularly important to me during the two years I lived in the UK, because it was like a link to Canada. I would walk through the Bury St Edmunds market every Saturday morning, listening to the show and enjoying that sense of connection. McLean introduced me to a lot of Canadian musicians I wouldn’t necessarily know about, particularly the more folksy ones who don’t get a lot of airplay. But, of course, the Dave and Morley stories are the highlight of every episode. It would be easy to claim to identify with Dave, who is always getting into incredible scrapes and situations based on a combination of hapless bad luck and awkward enthusiasm. That would be reductive, though. It’s more accurate to say that I identify with elements of Dave, Morley, Stephanie, Sam, and all the other characters in McLean’s world. That’s why these stories are so powerful and compelling: these characters are archetypes for a type of modern mythology. Sorry, was I getting too literary and CanLitty there? I’ll rein myself in. Let’s try that again. I had heard pretty much every story in this collection, some of them rather recently, and enjoyed them to varying degrees. Like any short story collection, this one has some favourites and some ones I’m not likely to revisit quite as much. If you don’t enjoy “Attack of the Treadmill” then you are weird, and if you don’t get a little teary-eyed at “Rosemary Honey” or “Annie’s Turn”—stories about boyhood and growing up—then I’ll shake my head in wonder. But some of the stories, like “The House Next Door” or “Curse of the Crayfish” are funny in their own way but can’t really compete on an emotional level with the other players. Then, of course, there are the really big guns, like “Le Morte d’Arthur,” probably one of the seminal Dave and Morley stories, for all that the title implies. I get more emotional with Vinyl Cafe stories than I do for many other, perhaps even objectively “better” stories. It’s easy to parody McLean’s laconic, expansive performance style, but when you get right down to it, his actual writing is simple, clear. It’s in the twists and turns, the way the characters act and react to each other, that he manages to grab hold of you and wring from you both smiles and tears. One sentence jumps out at me now as I’m writing this. It’s from “Rhoda’s Revenge,” a story that’s kind of middle-of-the-road for this collection: it’s a good story, and I totally get if you like it, but it’s not one of my favourites. Anyway, the sentence is this: “Ten years went by.” When I read that sentence, I was reminded of the power that a storyteller has. Mere moments can last pages; or, as McLean does here, entire decades can go by with the stroke of the pen. This kind of economy of storytelling is immensely important. I remember when Battlestar Galactica jumped ahead three years at the end of a season. My initial reaction was one of shock and betrayal—how could they do that to me? Then I realized it was crucial, because the writers wanted to advance the plot to a point where they were interested in telling the story again—and in order to do that, they needed to skip a bunch of things that were important but not necessarily relevant to their point. So it was here with “Rhoda’s Revenge.” After the set-up, McLean needed to jump ahead ten years. So he did. With a single sentence. That is power. You learn a lot about writing by reading—and by reading anything. But if you wanted to learn how to write, you could do a lot worse than reading a whole bunch of Dave and Morley stories. McLean has his formulas and his themes down pat, and he continually applies them in new and fun and touching ways. Ultimately, these stories are about close human connections, the connections between individuals. It doesn’t matter if they are separated by age or space or time; somehow, some way, we can form these connections—or re-form them if they have been broken. We have an incredible capacity, as a species, for making connections on a personal level. McLean reminds us that when we make these connections, we should do so with compassion, with a sense of levity, and with a smile. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Nov 30, 2015
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Dec 03, 2015
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Nov 30, 2015
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Hardcover
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| 0307359948
| 9780307359940
| 0307359948
| 3.74
| 1,466
| Aug 07, 2014
| Aug 12, 2014
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really liked it
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I'm always down for some historical/mythological fiction in a comedic style, so The Table of Less Valued Knights seemed like a good proposition. Marie
I'm always down for some historical/mythological fiction in a comedic style, so The Table of Less Valued Knights seemed like a good proposition. Marie Phillips delivers an Arthurian quest beset with archetypes, allusions, and anachronisms. Her characters quip like they're in a Christopher Moore novel (albeit slightly less self-aware) and her vision of Knights of Camelot is every bit as decadently absurd as Monty Python's. There. Have I name-dropped enough comparisons yet? Good. Let's get on with it. The story starts a little slow, actually, and for the first part I was somewhat skeptical as to how much I would end up enjoying it. This type of humour is easy to get wrong (as evidenced by how inconsistently I've enjoyed Moore's work). While there's nothing wrong with Sir Humphrey and the idea of a "Less Valued Table of Knights" who have been demoted from the Round Table over the years, none of it particularly grabbed my attention. Indeed, it isn't until Martha shows up and steals the show that this story gets going. Queen Martha of Tuft has a tough time of it, especially after she kinda-sorta becomes a man, in that classic "gender swap/mistaken identity" trope. Phillips creates an interesting character here: in many ways, Martha is naïve. She knows little of life outside a castle (has no idea of the value of money, for instance). Yet she also has many skills she once perceived as pointless, such as the ability to speak many foreign languages. Her observations of Humphrey and Conrad and attempts to fit in and emulate maleness are funny, sure, but they're also part of a larger commentary on gender that Phillips weaves throughout the book. Stories like this, stories that poke fun at the tropes and shorthand we've constructed of medieval worlds and legends like Arthuriana, are valuable. It's one thing to strive for "historically accurate" fiction and another to just take a can-opener to history and tear the top off to find out what lies beneath. The Table of Less Valued Knights starts as a light-hearted, humorous story. Yet the deeper I went, the more plot I found. Martha's a wonderful protagonist, and her reviled husband, Edwin, is an equally wonderful antagonist. He starts off as a stock, stereotypical villain type: a lascivious lout with no respect, for women or for men, and far too big an opinion of his own cunning. But Phillips soon lends substance to his pomp, showing that Edwin has some teeth. The moment he goes from comical thorn in the side to actual villain is pretty shocking, in the sense that I'm surprised the author lets him get away with it. This sense—that the characters are more two-dimensional actors in the author's drama—does run throughout the story, and it's possible this could be a bigger problem for you than it was for me. Phillips never quite breaks the fourth wall like other authors do (and I love me some fourth-wall breaking), but the narrative structure is both absurd and serendipitous at points. You kind of just have to go with it, and want to enjoy this type of book. Wishing it's something more complex is only going to get you disappointment. I was ambivalent about The Table of Less Valued Knights when I began, but by the end I had a smile on my face. Surprises like that are always welcome; here I was starting a book I thought I'd like at best, and I ended up having a much better time. It's not even the over-arching plot or the characters so much as all the little bits Phillips throws in—like the dwarf manning the customs post at the border of Tuft showing up again at the border of Grint, much to Edwin's irritation and surprise. It's these little things that show how much fun Phillips must have had inhabiting this universe, and when the fun an author has shines through, the experience is that much better for a reader. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Nov 21, 2015
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Nov 25, 2015
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Nov 22, 2015
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Hardcover
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| 1250077001
| 9781250077004
| 1250077001
| 3.90
| 167,715
| Sep 22, 2015
| Sep 22, 2015
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it was amazing
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After my pre-ordered copy of Furiously Happy arrived in the mail last week, I went looking for my copy of
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened
. I wan
After my pre-ordered copy of Furiously Happy arrived in the mail last week, I went looking for my copy of
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened
. I wanted to tweet a photo of the two books together—Jenny Lawson now has a running theme of taxidermied animals on her book covers; I think she should stick with it. The copy of her first book was not on my bookshelf under “L.” I briefly pondered if I had lent it to someone, as I am wont to do with books I love (I keep meaning to start some kind of spreadsheet, but laziness, am I right?). No, I hadn’t lent it to anyone. Turns out I don’t actually own a copy of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened. I have bought it several times over—but as a gift. It’s one of those books I just keep giving (to different people, not the same person, because that would be weird) because I know a lot of people who would appreciate the Bloggess’ humour, even if they don’t realize it themselves. And because that metal chicken will cut you. Ordering Furiously Happy the moment I learned Lawson had another book on the way was a no-brainer. I actually ordered two, knowing I’d give the second copy to a friend. Whereas her first book is mostly a collection of blog posts and assorted musings, with particular focus, as a memoir might, on Lawson’s childhood and upbrining, Furiously Happy focuses more on living with mental illness. It features both direct and indirect confrontations with this demon—there are many stories about Lawson’s visits to therapists, arguments with her long-suffering husband Victor, and the difficulties that her depression, anxiety, etc., create in her daily life. However, there are also more meandering stories. She talks about her trip to Australia, where she stood next to a koala while dressed as a koala. She talks about her experience as a parent. This is a book about living with mental illness, yes, but it would be just as accurate to say that this is a book about living in general. Because the truth that we are only now starting to acknowledge is that mental illness is more common than we want to think. Those who have it don’t always want to talk about it, because those who don’t shame them, blame them, or otherwise refuse to offer empathy when a cold shoulder will do. In the work-obsessed American society, mental illness is more synonymous with laziness and malingering than actual disease. Lawson demonstrates the harmfulness of this idea very early in the book (she actually quotes her own blog post that inspired the title of this book): When cancer sufferers fight, recover, and go into remission we laud their bravery. We call them survivors. Because they are. She returns to the cancer analogy later when she discusses her complicated relationship with medication: Lots of concerned friends and family felt that the first medication’s failure was a clear sign that drugs were not the answer; if they were I would have been fixed. Clearly I wasn’t as sick as I said I was if the medication didn’t work for me. And that sort of makes sense, because when you have cancer the doctor gives you the best medicine and if it doesn’t shrink the tumor immediately then that’s a pretty clear sign you were just faking it for attention. I mean, cancer is a serious, often fatal disease we’ve spent billions of dollars studying and treating so obviously a patient would never have to try multiple drugs, surgeries, radiation, etc., to find what will work specifically for them. And once the cancer sufferer is in remission they’re set for life because once they’ve learned how to not have cancer they should be good. And if they let themselves get cancer again they can just do whatever they did last time. Once you find the right cancer medication you’re pretty much immune from that disease forever. And if you get it again it’s probably just a reaction to too much gluten or not praying correctly. Right? Leaving aside the bizarre and scary fact that many people apply precisely this logic to cancer treatment (Chemo not working? Let’s try homeopathy! And prayer! Ummmm…), I love the way Lawson frames the issue here. I have not yet experienced mental illness in my life. I’m thankful for that. And I like to think I’m generally open and capable of empathy for people who do struggle with mental illness. But because I don’t really know what it’s like, and because I live in a culture that stigmatizes mental illness and those who suffer from it, I have a lot of internalized crap to deal with. It’s much the same as how, not being a woman and living in a sexist culture, I’ve internalized a lot of sexist views even if I consider myself an ally. Because I don’t, all my idiosyncrasies and distaste for certain social niceties aside, exhibit “craziness,” I have privilege. And that blinds me sometimes. As I read Lawson’s metaphorical explanation of the common attitude towards medicating mental illness, I started to realize this was one of my blind spots. I had fallen into the trap of believing the binary narrative that drugs either work or don’t work, that we just over-medicate because it’s easier and more profitable for pharmaceutical companies. As with most things in life, the issue is just not that simple. It’s true that pharmaceutical companies don’t play fair. And it’s true that drugs alone can’t “fix” someone suffering from mental illness. But Lawson reminds us what we already understand: our brains are our most complicated organ, so the idea that we might treat their ailments in a simplistic way is facile. So I appreciate the perspective that Furiously Happy offers me. As Lawson points out early in the book, her experience is not every person’s experience with mental illness. I get that. But whereas many of her fans are drawn to her through a kindred feeling of “getting it,” I’m drawn to her for two reasons. Firstly, she is hella funny. She’s a great writer, a great storyteller, and exhibits a keen sense of whimsy. Secondly, she is willing to share her story. Some people aren’t. Wanting to be more understanding of how people deal with mental illness doesn’t give one the freedom to pry into someone’s life—I do have friends who struggle with mental illness, and some are open about it while others aren’t. Wanting to be sympathetic doesn’t mean I can demand raw details from them. So I am grateful for people like Lawson who have the ability and desire to speak out about their struggles. It’s natural to want to compare Furiously Happy with Let’s Pretend This Never Happened and rank them. For the sake of discussion I’ll say that I liked the first book better, in that I laughed out loud more often at more of her stories. I don’t necessarily think that means the first book is a better book, if that makes any sense. If you like either book you’ll like the other one, and you can also read them in either order. As far as I’m concerned, more Bloggess writing in the world is just better. In the spirit of the Bloggess, here are some blurbs I might offer up about this book. You are welcome to use any of these in future printings, Ms. Lawson! “Delightful, poignant, brave.” “Inspirational, memorable, jaw-breakingly funny.” “It was difficult to read this in public. People kept coming up to me and high-fiving the raccoon on the cover.” “My lungs exploded with laughter. Literally. I’m typing this in the hospital, where I’m on a ventilator. I’m not letting them pull the plug until I finish the book.” “Now that Amazon uses drones to deliver orders, does that mean I could bomb ISIS-controlled areas with this book? Because that might be more effective.” “Worst fanfiction ever. There was hardly any street-racing, and since when was Dominic a raccoon? Zero stars.” (Some of the blurbs may not be factually accurate.) Seriously, not even sure why you’re still reading my review. Just read this book instead. Probably should have put that last paragraph at the start of my review. Oh well, you live and learn. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Sep 24, 2015
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Sep 26, 2015
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Sep 24, 2015
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 4.06
| 43,158
| 1990
| Mar 01, 1991
|
liked it
|
I’m very ambivalent about this book. Skinny Legs and All is a dense, intricate spiral of a story with funny characters but serious messages. However,
I’m very ambivalent about this book. Skinny Legs and All is a dense, intricate spiral of a story with funny characters but serious messages. However, Tom Robbins’ style grates on me a little bit. There’s nothing egregious about it, but maybe I’m just getting less patient with purpler prose as I approach the ripe old age of 26. In any event, I appreciate and respect this book, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as I wanted to. Skinny Legs and All follows Ellen Cherry Charles, a small-town Virginian woman, as she grows older and wiser in New York City. Owing to her crazy fundamentalist uncle and estranged art-nouveau husband, not to mention her employment at a restaurant owned by an Arab and a Jew, Ellen finds herself adjacent to all sorts of events related to the tension in the Middle East between Israel and Palestine. It’s also about a Dirty Sock, Can of Beans, and Dessert Spoon who join up with an ancient Painted Stick and Conch Shell to make their way to Jerusalem and await the coming of the Third Temple. There’s a great deal of allusion here, Biblical and otherwise, and it’s easy to get lost down the rabbithole. The plot doesn’t move forwards so much as spiral around and around the drain. The main focus seems to be on Ellen’s struggle to redefine herself after separating from Boomer. She was supposed to be the artist, the hip and trendy participant in New York’s cultural scenes. Then Boomer, the welder who couldn’t see the point in art, suddenly finds himself caught in the maelstrom, while Ellen watches from the sidelines and finds her own inspiration and direction drying up. Meanwhile, the anthropomorphized household articles are on a quest of their own, in a sideplot that is so bizarre I can’t do it justice. Ultimately I’m not sure it ever really comes to fruition—it’s fun, I guess, but it never held my attention for too long. I feel like Robbins is just having fun riffing off these characters he created, while also playing around in the sandbox of Middle Eastern history and mythology. And if that’s what he wanted to do, fair enough. As far as the commentary on the Middle East goes: this novel predates September 11, 2001. I couldn’t help but fixate on this fact and wonder how it would be different if Robbins had written it ten years later. There is an atmosphere of optimism even amidst all the strange and sometimes upsetting things that happen, as if Robbins believes that humanity might possibly just manage to muddle through this all. The Middle East is an appropriate focal point for exploring our species’ foibles because of how it is the birthplace both of Abrahamic religions and so much strife in the contemporary world—how can a place named for peace be the centre of so much conflict? This contradiction proves to drive the most interesting moments of the book. Yet for all its intensive soul-searching and intriguing commentary on religion, Skinny Legs and All strikes me as ultimately a disappointing and empty book. It’s nearly five-hundred pages of rumination on why humans band together with common beliefs and then proceed to be massive dicks to the rest of humanity. And none of what Robbins says about religion is really all that original or thoughtful—he says it very well, of course, but if you’ve read any critiques of or apologies for organized religion, you’re already going to be familiar with these themes. What redeems the book, if anything, is Ellen. I enjoyed reading about her, sympathizing with her, and even being annoyed with her sometimes. Robbins gives Ellen sexual agency in a way that many male authors fail to do with their women characters—Ellen has a healthy internal and external sex life. The sexuality of women and the way our society and religions police it is one of the pillars of Robbins’ critique of organized religion, of course—hence the allusions to Jezebel and Salome and the veil dance that comprises the entire structure of the narrative. Whereas I wasn’t that impressed by the overall commentary on religions, I did appreciate this facet. This is the third in a trio of books lent to me by a friend ( Gould’s Book of Fish and Sweet and Vicious being the other two). I think I enjoyed the ride that was Sweet and Vicious most, but Skinny Legs and All is probably the best book of the three. Although it took too long to read for what little reward I got from it, I can still appreciate. For me this book is an example of how literature is like art—sometimes you know something is important, even though it doesn’t really speak to you on an emotional level. It’s intellectually satisfying, even though viscerally you’re left wanting something else, something different. This won’t be everyone’s reaction, of course, and I’m sure there are plenty of Robbins fans out there who love this book to pieces. I’m just not one of them. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Sep 14, 2015
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Sep 16, 2015
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Sep 14, 2015
|
Mass Market Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
| 0061779725
| 9780061779725
| 0061779725
| 3.87
| 29,038
| Mar 23, 2010
| Mar 23, 2010
|
it was ok
|
Previously, on Ben’s reviews… … the characterization of the two protagonists is much improved. The other characters? Not so much…. Fridging women is notPreviously, on Ben’s reviews… … the characterization of the two protagonists is much improved. The other characters? Not so much…. Fridging women is not OK. Joking about fridging dead whores is also not OK. Yes, this entire book is a sitcom about moving to the apartment down the block. And now, the conclusion… Well, I did it. I read Bite Me, because I am a sucker (gaaaaaah, vampire puns again) for punishment. And also I like my trilogies like I like my modifiers: undangling. So, we pick up with Thomas and Jody bronzed and Abby as our viewpoint protagonist for much of the book. Eventually Thomas and Jody escape, or get released accidentally, and the book follows them for a bit too. So it alternates between Abby’s annoying first-person narration (I love Abby, hate her narrative voice) and a third-person narrator. This book is actually the best of the trilogy. Better yet, I can tell you why. With the convergent plots of Chet the Vampire Cat and Elijah’s child vampires cleaning up this mess in San Francisco, Christopher Moore doesn’t have as much time to make stupid, unfunny jokes at the expense of women and minorities. They are still present, but their quantity is greatly reduced, and they tend to be sandwiched in between more important bits. This is a sharp contrast to the previous two books, which seemed mostly to comprise such jokes strung together with the remnants of what once was a plot. Bite Me’s story is actually good and, in some parts, fairly intense. Elijah’s children want to eliminate anyone who knows about vampires. That’s basically the entire cast from the previous two books. Meanwhile, Steve discovers that people turned by anyone other than Elijah (the “prime” vampire) don’t last long. This is bad news for Abby, who turns herself into a vampire by injecting blood from a rat (you don’t want to know how the rat became a vampire). So it’s pretty much chaos in San Francisco, and there is a lot going on, and it gets very confusing at times. Nevertheless, I enjoyed a good deal of it. The characters always have something to do—and because they have something to do, Moore can’t spend pages reflecting on how Jody’s vampiric state will impact her continual disappointment of her mother or her need to lose five pounds. It’s win–win. I only wish Moore had introduced Elijah’s children in the first book. We get hints that there are other vampires in the world, and then of course they show up at the very end of You Suck. But there is a rich backstory to this world that Moore doesn’t reveal; I can’t help but wonder if it is more interesting than what we get in these three books. This has been a long journey, and it’s not one I would want to take again or recommend someone retrace. Bite Me might tickle vampire fans. In general, though, these are not the Moore books that I want people reading. Their humour does not work for me. Moore relies on stereotypes, clichés, and generally very lazy types of humour. The result is occasionally, almost accidentally, funny, in the style of the brain-dead sitcoms of network television. But it lacks the literary comedy that I so value in some of Moore’s other work. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Aug 16, 2015
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Aug 16, 2015
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Aug 16, 2015
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0060590297
| 9780060590291
| 0060590297
| 3.84
| 50,242
| 2007
| Jan 16, 2007
|
did not like it
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**spoiler alert** Previously, on Ben’s reviews… Jody and Thomas. I can’t even. I find Jody’s characterization hugely problematic…. I just wish Moore had**spoiler alert** Previously, on Ben’s reviews… Jody and Thomas. I can’t even. I find Jody’s characterization hugely problematic…. I just wish Moore hadn’t ruined what might have been a great thing by falling back on clichéd jokes, like, “I could stand to lose five pounds.” We get it: women are obsessed with their weight! Hah-hah, very funny. I’ll pencil in a laugh sometime next week. I’m going to try the next book, because Moore has earned a lot of credit with me. But if Thomas pulls anything like that again, I’m out of here. I have better things to do with my time than watch an insecure guy try to stop his vampire ladyfriend from leaving her in progressively creepier and rapier ways. And now, the continuation… You Suck picks up almost literally where Bloodsucking Fiends left off: C. Thomas Flood is a vampire, having been bitten by his vampiric girlfriend Jody. Once her daylight minion, now they have to find a new minion for the both of them. But the heat is on in San Francisco, because they have savvy detectives, an Emperor, and a Safeway night shift crew breathing down their pale necks. I have to say, this book starts off with much more promise than Bloodsucking Fiends. Tommy and Jody’s relationship dynamic has changed. I wouldn’t say they are on “equal” footing now, but they are both vampires, at least. Jody herself is definitely more confident here, and Moore explicitly shows how much she delights in flaunting her sexuality for herself, because she no longer fears walking alone at night. That’s all well and good. Indeed, I’ll go ahead and say that the characterization of the two protagonists is much improved. The other characters? Not so much. Every remaining character falls back into one or more stereotypes in Moore’s attempt to wring as much clichéd humour from this book as possible. I started to tune out and skim when he introduced Blue, the hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold (and blue skin), and almost entirely checked out when dead whores started showing up. Right, Moore, look … I don’t care whether your book has a “strong female protagonist.” I don’t care if your book has two female protagonists who show interesting and different sides to living as a woman in San Francisco. (I love Abby’s gothy teenage geekiness!) Fridging women is not OK. Joking about fridging dead whores is also not OK. The former does not, will never, excuse the latter. Similarly, the fact that Blue comes back—out of the blue—as a vampire doesn’t make up for the tasteless jokes at her expense. Any enjoyment I was getting from You Suck was sucked out of me—pun intended—by these missteps. At least Bloodsucking Fiends had stakes. (No, I mean plot stakes, not wooden stakes—gah. Why is this happening?!) The elusive and mysterious Elijah was a credible antagonist in the first book. Now he’s just a nuisance, and most of the conflict comes from Tommy and Jody running around trying to train Abby and move. Yes, this entire book is a sitcom about moving to the apartment down the block. Towards the very end, the book shifts more and more into Abby’s first-person diary perspective. Now, I love Abby, and I loved her diary entries when they were intermittent. The more frequently they appeared, the more they grated in tone, though. The sudden appearance of Steve as a vampire hunter/love interest for Abby at the eleventh hour is almost as unsatisfactory as the wimpiness of the new vampires on the block. Sigh. I didn’t even realize how worked up I was about this until I wrote this review, and now I just can’t even. Do I read the third book? It’s on my shelf, checked out the same time I borrowed this one. They are quick—I read this at a ball game, so I could read book three in less than an afternoon. But is it worth it? The cover copy seems to promise that it foregrounds Abby and includes a vampire cat. But is it worth it? I have since read the third book. It was worth it. Kind of. Review forthcoming! [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Aug 09, 2015
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Aug 09, 2015
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Aug 09, 2015
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Hardcover
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| 1416558497
| 9781416558491
| 1416558497
| 3.94
| 65,329
| Sep 01, 1995
| Dec 15, 2008
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it was ok
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**spoiler alert** Shall we start by agreeing that Christopher Moore is a literary comedic genius? I’ve had some good times with him. Both
Fool
and
**spoiler alert** Shall we start by agreeing that Christopher Moore is a literary comedic genius? I’ve had some good times with him. Both
Fool
and
Sacré Bleu: A Comedy d’Art
are amazing, laugh-out-loud funny.
Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal
is hilarious and irreverent and the perfect gift to give your atheist or agnostic friends (or your theist friends, if they have the right sense of humour!). Everyone once in a while, though I hit on a
Fluke
…. That’s the problem with comedy: it’s really tough, and even comedic geniuses don’t get it right all the time. Bloodsucking Fiends has a lot going for it. I considered, for a while, giving this book one star—but I can’t do that, ultimately, because there was definitely a time where I was enjoying this book, maybe more than I should have. (For those who have read it: the scenes with the Emperor are all priceless, and the scene where the Safeway crew boards the vampire’s boat and start blowing shit up is high-octane of a calibre I was not expecting in a book like this.) In particular, if you were looking for a more humorous take on the whole “becoming a vampire” plot, then Moore has you covered here. But. Jody and Thomas. I can’t even. This is subtitled A Love Story, as are the sequels to this book (which I also have out from the library). The idea is that Jody, after becoming a vampire, looks for a man to cohabit with (and have sex with, if convenient) who can go out during the day, when she is asleep, and run errands. A sex-Renfield, if you will. (Oh God, now I’m envisioning all the Dracula/Renfield slash-fic I am not going to search for after finishing this review….) Mr. C. Thomas Flood from Indiana has just moved to San Francisco to become the next Great American Writer. He hooks up with Jody by chance, sticks with her even after she confesses that she is a vampire, and quickly falls in love with her. But I don’t really buy it, you know? I can buy that Thomas thinks he’s in love with Jody, and that Jody feels co-dependent with Thomas. Moore paints Jody as the type of woman who feels that she “needs” a man, having lived with ten in the past five years. And I love that Moore doesn’t make this a head-over-heels, hit-by-Cupid’s-arrow type of romance—Jody and Thomas fight and argue and call each other names, and it’s all very realistic. (Except for the whole vampire thing, obviously.) I find Jody’s characterization hugely problematic, though. There is nothing wrong, a priori, with portraying a woman who serially enters dysfunctional relationships. That’s all part of diverse portrayals of women in fiction. Unfortunately, that only works if you have diverse portrayals of women in your story (I think there are three named women characters in this book, and it only technically passes the Bechdel Test because Jody talks to her mom). And it only works if your characters are multi-dimensional. I was hoping that, amid the standard Moore silliness of the plot, Bloodsucking Fiends would be a story about Jody’s personal growth. Moore starts off by showing us a woman who doesn’t have a lot going for her, who has a really bad day by being assaulted and transformed into a vampire, and who subsequently decides to make lemons out of lemonade. And on one level, this does actually happen. The ending of the story affirms Jody’s desire to embrace her newfound vampiric powers, to learn more about them, and to make the most of this life. So I just wish Moore hadn’t ruined what might have been a great thing by falling back on clichéd jokes, like, “I could stand to lose five pounds.” We get it: women are obsessed with their weight! Hah-hah, very funny. I’ll pencil in a laugh sometime next week. This sense of cliché looms ominously over most of the book. Jody is a walking cliché. Thomas’ situation—growing up in Indiana and being suspected of homosexuality because he has intellectual tendencies—is so cliché. It’s as if Moore assembled a checklist of the most overused tropes, then proceeded to work his way down the list—maybe alphabetically? Boy, those Asian people—aren’t they funny? And people who can’t read and hide it—hilarious! What about sales clerks—they sure are jerks, right? This might be comedy, but it is lazy comedy, thoughtless comedy—in other words, bad comedy. I know Moore is capable of, well, more. You can’t write two novels parodying Shakespeare to the level that Moore has without actually reading and understanding Shakespeare. And while Moore’s portrayal of women doesn’t receive highest marks, I’ve seen him do better than how he does in Bloodsucking Fiends. Oh, but the whole part where Thomas literally fridges Jody? Then does it again by bronzing her? That’s not funny, Moore, and it’s not endearing. It’s terrifying and sick, and it doesn’t show that Thomas “loves” Jody, just that he’s obsessed with her and willing to imprison her rather than let her go. We have names and prisons for those sorts of people. I’m going to try the next book, because Moore has earned a lot of credit with me. But if Thomas pulls anything like that again, I’m out of here. I have better things to do with my time than watch an insecure guy try to stop his vampire ladyfriend from leaving her in progressively creepier and rapier ways. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jul 25, 2015
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Jul 26, 2015
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Jul 25, 2015
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Paperback
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![Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? [And Other Concerns]](https://cdn.statically.io/img/i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1442549001l/13532238._SY75_.jpg)
| 0307886271
| 9780307886279
| 0307886271
| 3.86
| 502,450
| Nov 01, 2011
| Sep 18, 2012
|
liked it
|
Mindy Kaling is absolutely right: men do take too long to put on their shoes. At least, I do, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Send help! It’s sa Mindy Kaling is absolutely right: men do take too long to put on their shoes. At least, I do, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Send help! It’s safe to say I probably wouldn’t have read this book if my friend Rebecca had not literally put it in my hands. (As Goodreads friend Megan remarked recently, this is the one way to ensure I will actually read a book you recommend to me this century.) I see in retrospect that many of my Goodreads friends have read this, but even that might not have been enough. I’m vaguely aware of Mindy Kaling is, in that “I think she was a guest on The Colbert Report once?” kind of way, but I’ll address the elephant in the room, and if you feel like I’m less of a person and never want to read any of my reviews ever again, I’ll understand. *deep breath* I didn’t watch The Office. And I don’t mean I made a point of not watching. It’s not that I was opposed on principle to the show. That, at least, would be defensible. No, I simply had no interest in The Office, and strangely, managed to avoid watching anything more than about half an episode. I had no idea that Kaling was a writer for or actor on The Office. Indeed, on a broader level, I’ve largely managed to avoid modern comedy—aside from dipping in and out of SNL here or there, I don’t watch stand-up or sitcoms. So I feel like I lacked a crucial frame of reference when reading Is Everybody Hanging Out Without Me?. Kaling alludes to recent social phenomena with which I have very little familiarity, even through the vicarious medium of TV. Aside from Monty Python, I barely recognize, let alone have watched, most of the shows she mentions as inspirations or topical in her formative years. Hence, my overall bemusement: I really enjoyed Kaling’s writing style, to the point where she makes me laugh out loud. But I couldn’t connect with a lot of the essays about the entertainment industry. Is this, I wonder, how other people feel about reading books about math and physics?? With this in mind, I can see how it is tempting to dismiss or marginalize Kaling’s book as just “yet another attempt at a funny semi-memoir.” The chapters where Kaling attempts to lampoon her childhood experiences fall flat, because she does it by way of winking at and nudging the reader, lazily relying on the comedian’s shorthand: “Childhood—parents sure are funny, eh? Look at my wacky haircut and lack of fashion!” I wish there were more substance to these stories, that Kaling had gone a bit deeper. When she does get real, as in the chapter where she talks about her “secret friend” from high school, Marcia, and how that friendship blossomed while her friends from middle school went their separate ways, then Kaling’s stories immediately become more interesting. My favourite chapter, as I alluded to above, is the extremely short meditation on how long it takes men to put on their shoes. It sounds facetious, but it is a serious matter that affects millions of men every day, and I’m glad someone like Kaling is finally taking a stand. Yet my enjoyment of that chapter surprises me. It is the most stand-up–iest of all the chapters here in a book that is very much an attempt at literary stand-up comedy. And I hate stand-up comedy with the fiery passion of a thousand white-hot stars. But maybe I wouldn’t hate it quite so much if more of it were like Kaling’s writing. Kaling manages to capture how difficult comedy is, not just as an industry but as a genre for creation. Comedians have it hard, because unlike the rest of us people who are just happy to consume the funny, they have to dissect it in their comedy labs. They have to put on sterile clean-suits and cut into their beloved sitcoms and stand-up routines and ask, “Why is this funny? How does this work? How can I riff on this?” You can spend a lot of time on this, crafting what you think is the best, funniest thing ever—only for it to fall completely flat. Sometimes the flop isn’t even your fault: it could be a matter of timing, of current events making your joke insensitive or unfunny; or maybe you’re just before the wrong audience. But when your comedy goes awry, there is nothing left. It’s not like tragedy, where if you fail or ham it up too much, then it’s funny—that is kind of the intention of comedy. “So bad it’s good” is inaccurate: if your comedy is “so bad it’s good,” then either it’s just bad but some people are laughing anyway because they feel sorry, or it’s good because you are clever enough to pull off a deconstructive, self-referential routine (and you are Monty Python). I was fascinated by Kaling’s story of how she went from amateur funny person to professional comedy writer. She and her best friend from college wrote and starred in a play called Matt & Ben, inspired by the apparent inseparability of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. But when she ended up in LA, she ran up against the wall most would-be writers encounter in that city, until she caught her “break” and got the chance to show her funny to the world again. She also deserves respect for the self-deprecating way she mocks her own gradual envelopment by Hollywood television culture. From moving to LA to her involvement in The Office, Kaling has worked her way from being “outside” onto the “inside.” She is now part of the shallow, celebrity-obsessed machine she used to mock and continues to mock, but she knows her position in that machine has changed. It’s always heartening when celebrities maintain that self-awareness. This self-awareness stems from a related sense of humility that Kaling masks with facetious self-importance. Unlike, say, a white and male comedian, Kaling is very much aware of and willing to acknowledge the role that luck and timing played in providing opportunities for her talents to shine on a wider audience. Beneath the offhand comments and the flippant voice she puts on, Kaling makes it clear This is why it would be a mistake to dismiss a thin, outwardly-light book like Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?. Just because it aims to be funny, or because it’s a memoir written by someone on the younger side of 50, doesn’t make it any less interesting, sympathetic, or true. I don’t share Kaling’s love of stand-up or all of her tastes in humour (but we do share that love of Monty Python). But I appreciate reading her perspective and hearing about her particular vector into comedy and celebrity. Above all else, I appreciate the question Kaling implicitly asks with her humour: why, as a society, is it so important for our social cohesion to tear people down so we can build ourselves up? Why have we made it so difficult to differentiate between critique and criticism and nastiness? It’s possible to love something and critique it, not like something without judging it harshly. The title says it all. We walk a fine a line between “being ourselves” (whatever that means) and being the people it’s easiest to be to fit in and not make waves so we can slide through our lives unhassled. We all compromise. We all yearn to express ourselves. We all do each of these things; what differs only is the relative degrees to which we place value on each action. We worry about everyone hanging out without us—but how far can we countenance changing ourselves, just so people hang out with us? There is no single answer that works for everyone. This book is just Mindy Kaling’s personal journey trying to answer that question. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Mar 05, 2015
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Mar 06, 2015
|
Mar 05, 2015
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 1607069318
| 9781607069317
| 1607069318
| 4.48
| 96,779
| Mar 19, 2014
| Mar 25, 2014
|
really liked it
|
**spoiler alert** Yes, it’s another review of Saga, this time of Volume Three, the last of three volumes I bought for a friend. It’s hard to think of
**spoiler alert** Yes, it’s another review of Saga, this time of Volume Three, the last of three volumes I bought for a friend. It’s hard to think of original things to say, having read and reviewed the first two in quick succession. So let’s look at the journey Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples are taking us on after nearly twenty issues of this incredibly story. I’m impressed at the complexity of the supporting cast. Kiara, Marko’s mother, spends much of this volume processing her husband’s death. It’s a significant subplot that affects how she related to the others present in Heist’s lighthouse, including the ornery pacifist author himself. Through these multi-generational moments, Vaughan justifies the somewhat generic name for Saga here. Kiara is walking around with a whole lot of prejudices. But she wants what is best for her child and her grandchild, and a good part of this volume concerns her need to reconcile her prejudices with Alana and Marko’s relationship. (I enjoyed the moment where she is watching them out the window of the lighthouse and asks, “What is Alana doing? Is she prayiny—no, no she is not.”) Likewise, the Will and Gwendolyn really undergo a huge transition in this volume. At the beginning they are nearly at each other’s throats, and by the end, Gwendolyn is forced to tell Marko that “the man I love” is dying. She is forced to confront her hypocrisy of falling in love with a man from another species even as she hunts Marko for much the same “crime.” I admit I was a little sceptical about Gwendolyn falling for the Will so quickly. One of the limitations of graphic novels, however, unlike its wordier sibling, is that it is more expensive to devote time to flashbacks and other backstory exposition. So there is a lot we don’t know about Gwendolyn (or the Will, for that matter, although there are some interesting revelations concerning his family life towards the end of this volume) that might come up in future issues. If I thought Volume Two ended with an excellent cliffhanger, then Volume Three is not a disappointment either. Vaughan allows some time to pass. Hazel foreshadows that the antagonists and our heroes are going their separate ways for “a very long time.” I still think Prince Robot IV is a dick, but I kind of like Gwendolyn and the Will, and I really want the best for them. So, you know, stupid Vaughan and Staples for making me care about people who want our heroes captured or killed! I shake my fist at you. This is not the place to jump in if you haven’t read Saga before. Do yourself a favour and pick up the first two volumes. But as far as I’m concerned as a days-old fan of the series, it just keeps getting better. My reviews of Saga: ← Volume 2 | Volume 4 → [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 26, 2014
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Dec 26, 2014
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Dec 31, 2014
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0544272994
| 9780544272996
| 0544272994
| 4.14
| 182,093
| Sep 02, 2014
| Sep 02, 2014
|
it was amazing
|
I don’t really need to review this, do I? Randall Munroe is the much-beloved writer and illustrator of the much-beloved webcomic xkcd . He puts his I don’t really need to review this, do I? Randall Munroe is the much-beloved writer and illustrator of the much-beloved webcomic xkcd . He puts his physics and robotics background to good use creating humorous situations based on science, mathematics, and nerd culture. He has since branched out with What If? , a weekly blog in which Munroe answers over-the-top questions by following the facts to whatever consequences they might lead. This is the book of the blog. (That’s like the book of the movie, only it’s a blog, not a movie. Savvy?) So if you’re curious about what this book is like, just go read the blog. You can do that for free. Many of the chapters in the book are reprints from the blog—though some posts have been revised, expanded, or mutated through exposure to gamma radiation. Some of the chapters are new, and just as hilarious. That’s the defining characteristic of What If? for me: it’s a wonderful demonstration of how asking—and answering—questions is fun, and that really should be the backbone of any science education effort. Now, much like Republican politicians, I am not a scientist. I don’t even play one on TV. But I am a mathematician (which is kind of like a scientist, only cooler), and I’m an educator. Math and science share a lot of the bum rap when it comes to which subjects kids enjoy in school, and most of it is bad PR on the part of parents, policy-makers, and teachers. And this makes me angry, because science is wonderful and fascinating and awesome, and I want kids to love it just like I want kids to love math. Even if they don’t particularly want to grow up working in a field that requires a working knowledge of particle physics or a penchant for solving partial differential equations, I want them to dip their toes with joy and abandon into the oceans of inquiry and problem-solving—and not feel pressured or shamed by the fallout from standardized tests that label them with numbers and letters and predictors of success. Munroe is one of a cadre of Internet peoples who is leading the charge in a glorious vanguard of new science education. He gets it. He has that golden spark of talent that puts him in the sweet spot of both knowing the science behind these issues as well as being able to write about them in a humorous, entertaining way. What If? is like an armchair version of MythBusters and no less amazing for it. I’m not exaggerating when I’m saying that I enjoyed every single chapter in this book. I laughed out loud frequently. Even the less interesting ones, or the ones I read before on the blog, are nice to revisit. This is a great coffeetable book for geeks: you can dip in and out of it at will. My favourite chapter has to be “Periodic Wall of Elements,” in which Munroe explains the consequences of trying to construct a periodic table wherein each entry is a sample of the element in question. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t end well, for you, or your lab, or the city around it.) He just has such a dry style of writing: Sometimes this kind of panic over scary chemicals is disproportionate; there are trace amounts of natural arsenic in all our food and water, and we handle those fine. This is not one of those times. And then slightly later, describing the effects of building the sixth row of the periodic table: The radiation levels would be incredibly high. Given that it takes a few hundred milliseconds to blink, you would literally get a lethal dose of radiation in the blink of an eye. This tendency for understatement combines with a keen sense of meta-fictional absurdity that Munroe regularly demonstrates in his webcomic. Indeed, as if his delightful prose is not enough on its own, every answer comes complete with several xkcd-style illustrations that have the same cheeky humour of the comic. What If? is awesome. Full stop. If you are not convinced of this and want to be convinced, go read the blog and the comic. Then buy the book. Then enjoy the hours of entertainment and education you will receive. Share it with kids, and make them love science. Even if it kills them.* [image] *Please science responsibly, especially if kids are involved. Do not blow things up unless you are a trained professional and have taken appropriate safety measures. Don’t try anything in this book at home. At worst it is very dangerous and would likely destroy the planet; at best, it is extremely impractical and would cost a fortune in electricity. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 15, 2014
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Dec 19, 2014
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Dec 15, 2014
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0771039832
| 9780771039836
| 0771039832
| 3.38
| 92
| Nov 05, 2013
| Nov 05, 2013
|
it was ok
|
Well, this is definitely a story. About English. And it is very rude (lots of swearing, archaic and present-day). So in that sense, I suppose Tom Howe
Well, this is definitely a story. About English. And it is very rude (lots of swearing, archaic and present-day). So in that sense, I suppose Tom Howell delivers exactly what is promised by the title The Rude Story of English. I really hesitate to call this a work of non-fiction. Oh, there are facts in here. But Howell is very careful to hide them amongst a quite frankly impressive cornucopia of tall tales and speculation, or as he calls it, asterisking. He proposes to explain the evolution of English over the centuries through the perspective of an unusually long-lived protagonist called Hengest, whom Howell co-opts from a quasi-historical Angle believed to have landed on the shores of Britain in AD 449. Hengest consciously and unconsciously influences the development of English from an offshoot of continental Germanic tongues into the imperialistic, colonial juggernaut it became today. As Howell races through the centuries, he concentrates on the rudest, most inappropriate parts of the story. It’s meant to be funny and entertaining, obviously, and in some ways it is. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I laughed out loud that much. Honestly, “rude” humour has never been my favourite type; it was more so the drier parts of the book that got to me. But if you do like your humour rude and crude, you would probably enjoy this a lot more. So don’t get the impression that, as I bang on about how this isn’t a very academic book, and it’s really hard sometimes to tell if Howell is being serious or just fabricating yet another tale, that I am condemning The Rude Story of English. I just want my review to make it clear, for anyone thinking of reading this but not sure what they’re getting into, what to expect from this book. You are not getting an academic, heavily-cited work here. That isn’t to say Howell is ignorant or uninteresting or that you will learn nothing of English’s history. Just … take whatever you do learn with a grain of salt. Maybe don’t go around repeating it at parties. (Or maybe do, and that’s why you keep getting invited to parties—I’m not the expert at this.) I will admit to learning (shock, gasp, horror) some things from this book. For one, Howell does a great job showcasing the difficulty of piecing together the historical record. So much of the early printed English word just doesn’t exist anymore. It’s like a fossil record: sometimes there are missing links, specimens we must infer rather than have direct knowledge of. Howell points out how little we might know of someone, or of their work, and the extent to which historians over the centuries have fabricated or exaggerated the facts to help their theories. This book is a good reminder that “history” is not this single, received story set in stone but is indeed a quixotic, problematic, constantly evolving story incredibly vulnerable to the whims and biases of those who tell it. Not a fan of the illustrations and diagrams, myself, but if you like that sort of thing you might really enjoy them here too. The Rude History of English didn’t work great on me, but I can easily see it working great for other people. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jul 27, 2018
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Jul 28, 2018
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Aug 09, 2014
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Paperback
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|
|
|
|
|
my rating |
|
|
||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| 4.03
|
really liked it
|
May 13, 2022
|
May 28, 2022
|
|||||
|
| 3.85
|
liked it
|
Jul 02, 2020
|
Jun 27, 2020
|
|||||
|
| 3.96
|
liked it
|
Mar 08, 2020
|
Mar 05, 2020
|
|||||
|
| 3.85
|
did not like it
|
Oct 13, 2019
|
Oct 10, 2019
|
|||||
|
| 3.51
|
liked it
|
Jul 30, 2018
|
Jul 18, 2018
|
|||||
|
| 3.81
|
liked it
|
Aug 04, 2018
|
May 31, 2018
|
|||||
|
| 3.46
|
not set
|
Apr 19, 2018
|
||||||
|
| 3.91
|
liked it
|
Oct 20, 2016
|
Oct 19, 2016
|
|||||
|
| 4.16
|
really liked it
|
Jun 13, 2016
|
Jun 12, 2016
|
|||||
|
| 4.33
|
really liked it
|
Dec 03, 2015
|
Nov 30, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 3.74
|
really liked it
|
Nov 25, 2015
|
Nov 22, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 3.90
|
it was amazing
|
Sep 26, 2015
|
Sep 24, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 4.06
|
liked it
|
Sep 16, 2015
|
Sep 14, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 3.87
|
it was ok
|
Aug 16, 2015
|
Aug 16, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 3.84
|
did not like it
|
Aug 09, 2015
|
Aug 09, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 3.94
|
it was ok
|
Jul 26, 2015
|
Jul 25, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 3.86
|
liked it
|
Mar 06, 2015
|
Mar 05, 2015
|
|||||
|
| 4.48
|
really liked it
|
Dec 26, 2014
|
Dec 31, 2014
|
|||||
|
| 4.14
|
it was amazing
|
Dec 19, 2014
|
Dec 15, 2014
|
|||||
|
| 3.38
|
it was ok
|
Jul 28, 2018
|
Aug 09, 2014
|
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