Showing posts with label book review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book review. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Book Review: Becoming (Michelle Obama)

Becoming is tight. Like its author, Michelle Obama's memoir is expressive, controlled, and relentlessly on-message. It's so inspiring that halfway through, I decided my kid is going to be the next President of the US. Which one, you ask? Both, of course! They can take turns.

Everything about this book is organized around Obama's core themes. The title immediately informs readers that Obama was shaped by, and continues to be shaped by, those around her as well her own strong personality. The chapter titles--Becoming Me, Becoming Us, and Becoming More--are perfect descriptors of the periods covered. And finally, the memories and events that Obama chooses to include all underline the lessons that she hopes to share with her readers: approach life with hard work and discipline, give back to society, and be grateful for your blessings rather than dwell on what seems to be lacking.

The first chapter, Becoming Me, shows the close-knit, close-quartered family unit of the Robinsons. There are barbecues and music! There are also reflections about black neighborhoods' slide into poverty in Chicago, seeing her parents work tirelessly to provide for her and her brother, and her determination to be successful. One particular vignette stands out: a school counselor telling her that she wasn't "Princeton material," and guess where Michelle Obama went to college? Why, somewhere in NJ! In short, this chapter is about a girl who was going places.

The second chapter, Becoming Us, is about her romance with Barack, who comes across as nerdy and often in his own head, trying to fix the wrongs of the world. The most memorable bit in this chapter is when she asks him what he's thinking about and he replies, "Income inequality." That's a special guy, right there. Obama also reveals that both their girls were conceived through IVF, which I did not know, but those babies are now stunning young women, so hurray reproductive technology! Alas, politics intrude often into their young family, culminating in Barack's triumph in 2008.

Finally, Becoming More is about the family's move to the White House, and the assorted battles and initiatives she engages in as First Lady. She glosses over the ugly parts, but makes it pretty clear that they were ugly, especially when she unequivocally ends her book with, "I am not going into politics." She can make a difference in other fields, using tools that likely won't destroy her soul. 

While deeply personal, Becoming occasionally reads like a speech. For example, a section about meeting Nelson Mandela includes the word "crosscurrents," and there is no reason to use it unless water is involved, okurrr? The book can also get very pious. These two small bellyaches do not diminish the power of the work.

In conclusion, Becoming was the bestselling book of 2018 because it's powerful, well-written, and reminds us that when we lead lives of integrity and compassion, we can become more, we can transcend the small and the petty, and we can lift up others, just as we were lifted up. CAN I GET AN AMEN

TL;DR: OBAMA 2024

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This post brought to you by unending snow!

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

Book Review: Real Food/Fake Food (2016)

Larry Olmsted's Real Food/Fake Food made me hangry (hungry + angry). The author's exposé about widespread food deception hits especially hard because he starts each chapter with vivid descriptions of how lovingly the real stuff is made and how delicious it is. And then he describes the fraudulent labeling and shipping practices of many players in the food industry. Finally, he ends with how savvy readers can, if not get their hands on real food, at least avoid the (usually high-priced) fakes. Thanks, Larry!

The opening chapter, about Parmigiano-Reggiano (parmesan), is an eye-opening foray into what goes into what Olmsted calls "real food"--fresh, wholesome ingredients, strict regulations, and very specific labels. I learned so much! For example, I did not know that real fancy cheese gets its name basically tattooed on the rind. Also, different factors and crafts contribute to the final product: the terroir, the dairy farmers, the cheesemakers, and the inspectors who check if the parmesan is up to their rigorous standards. (Reading this chapter reminded me of Samin Nosrat's visit to Italy to eat chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano in Salt Fat Acid Heat, and how she practically passed out from pleasure.) Anyway, afterwards Olmsted warns readers that popular parmesan cheeses available in the US are often adulterated and are not, in fact, parmesan, since the cheese gets its name from the Italian city of Parma, ergo if the cheese didn't come from fat, happy Parma cows it is fake! Shame, Kraft, shaaaame!

Throughout the book, Olmsted examines the issue of lax labeling standards in the US, and the country's obstinate refusal to adhere to international pressure to regulate and enforce its food imports and production. This is an issue with certain types of fish, olive oil, Kobe beef, wines, and honey. Olmsted dedicates a section to each of these foodstuffs, first describing his personal experience with the real thing--for example, proper balsamic vinegar is so potent that only drops are added to chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano--and then explaining how counterfeit products are sold in the US with misleading labels. Again, he concludes every chapter with tips on how to spot fake food, such as looking for the country of origin of the product (e.g. champagne should come from France). In this way, he always finishes on a hopeful note, as opposed to say, Jonathan Safran Foer's dolorous Eating Animals.

In closing, I highly recommend this very educational, very delicious book. The author's enthusiasm for real food is apparent on every page, and his lists of tips are very helpful if you're inclined to be discerning about what you eat.

TL;DR: Read it, foodies!!!

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This post brought to you by my odd determination to watch the horror movie Oculus while home alone on a dreary day! Send puppies!

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Book Review: Black Leopard Red Wolf (2019)

Black Leopard Red Wolf is a dark and fascinating undertaking. Marlon James' fantasy world is grim, bleak, and utterly captivating. It makes the A Song of Ice and Fire series read like a romp through rainbows on a magical unicorn. After six hundred pages, I only have a tenuous idea of what actually happened in the novel, which feeds into its major theme of stories, truth, and lies. Overall, it's awful and awesome, terrible and beautiful, and an intense first entry in the Dark Star trilogy.

Black Leopard Red Wolf is set in pre-colonial Africa and tells the story of Tracker, a young man with a special talent for finding the missing. The main plot of the novel is the search for a little boy, which Tracker narrates to his unnamed captor, in pieces and in haphazard order. The gist of it is, a group of mercenaries are hired to find the child, and their journey is fraught and exhausting.

Marlon includes a great many subversions into his epic, a glaring one being Tracker's personality. Instead of a shining hero of few words, he's downright bitchy to everyone he meets, always ready with a snark, an insult, or a threat. Tracker has issues: daddy issues, mommy issues, intimacy issues, etc. But at the end of the day, he has a moral center, cares about the weak and helpless, and is capable of nobility and sacrifice. He also establishes his street cred in the very first chapter, recounting how he went to the underworld to retrieve a drowned king, battling shadowy ceiling demons in the process.

This is where the novel shines, with its vivid descriptions of terrifying mythical monsters and the humans who do monstrous things. There are shapeshifting hyenas, the flesh eater Asanbosam and his bloodsucker brother Sasabonsam, Ipundulu the lightning bird, witches, Ogos, mysterious portals called the Ten and Nine Doors, and more. There's a lot of violence, the least of which is babies and children being left out in the wild to die. It gets much worse than that. Tracker must overcome so much while accompanied by people he barely trusts, who have their own reasons for wanting to find the boy.

Tracker endures through it all, frequently outsmarting his foes, and proving himself at least capable of decency, which is rare indeed in the warring North and South Kingdoms. He has lived to tell his tale, which may or may not be riddled with falsehoods, because Tracker does. Not. Give. Any. Fucks.

Please pardon my French, I am having vapors from all the swearing and filthy language used in this book. It would have an R rating if it were a movie, and not just for the words--there's a lot of action too, if y'know what I mean! While I wasn't a huge fan of all the expletive-laden dialogue, they do underline the fact that honey, this is not Kansas, this is a Marlon James book and you better recognize what you're walking into.

In conclusion, Black Leopard Red Wolf stands out as a fantasy novel for its difference: I've never seen settings, characters, and a narrative structure quite like it. I await the next installment with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

TL;DR: Recommended for readers who thought A Game of Thrones was too happy.  

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This post brought to you by swimming! It's good exercise!

Thursday, August 8, 2019

Book Review: The Hidden Life of Trees (2015)

The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate is educational and accessible. The author, German forester Peter Wohlleben, argues for viewing trees as communities, rather than individuals, and appreciating the complex and often invisible ecological network that they are part of. He discusses the characteristics of specific tree species, explains how different types of leaves work, and illuminates the creatures involved in busy underground root systems. His writing is clear and grounded in scientific literature.

However, apparently his work is controversial among some scientists, who object to the way he anthropomorphizes trees. This post has more details, but as a regular city person, I appreciate the sincerity of his effort to elevate trees in our imagination and esteem. Wohlleben comes to many conclusions on his own, separate from published works, but he's upfront about his emotional connection to the subject matter.

In conclusion, The Hidden Life of Trees is a welcome addition to the popular science genre. It's earnest and instructive, and I look forward to getting my paws on his other books.

Unrelated: I suddenly miss Rachel Carson?

TL;DR: A good summer read! Recommended!

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This post brought to you by oversalted popcorn, the best kind!

Tuesday, May 7, 2019

Book Review: Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers (2003)

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers is very educational and frequently funny, because author Mary Roach is curious, odd (in a good way!), and unafraid to broach icky topics. While morbid, Stiff reveals a whole new world, and might perhaps inspire readers to contemplate the possibility of contributing to a field--or various fields!--after one's passing.

In a nutshell, the book is about some of the various ways cadavers, or select bits of them, are used in different areas, such as surgery practice, crash impact testing, crime investigations, and so on. Each chapter is flavored with Roach's personal reflections and observations, revealing a fascination not with the macabre, but in the utility of, shall we say, expired biological masses with no consciousness. Roach's methodology, which consists of guided visits to the sites using cadavers, affords her firsthand glimpses (and smells, alas) of the many ways in which the formerly alive continue to serve a purpose.

There is a plethora of new information to be found in this work, the most useful to me being how exactly getting hit with a car works (the fender hits your ankle, the hood hits your hip, and you cartwheel into the windshield). Roach also describes the once-lucrative business of grave robbing, back in the days when physicians and medical schools had...less rigorous ethical standards. In addition, she details certain gruesome experiments in the past century, involving transplanting limbs and heads, performed in the name of discovery. And there's a chapter on crucifixion studies, too (?!).

Through it all, the author remains respectful about the subject matter, and declares herself willing to be used to advance science in her afterlife. Overall, Stiff is, like all of Roach's other books, immensely entertaining and edifying, and is a page-turner.

TL;DR: Interesting, funny, and sometimes horrifying. Recommended!

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This post brought to you by Caffè Nero!

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Book Review: The Book of Life (2014)

The Book of Life concludes Deborah Harkness' trilogy about witches and vampires, and it's been a sedate ride, honestly. The author introduces fascinating concepts and explores familiar yet powerful themes, but the world she builds is, like Diana's true shininess, hidden so that only the barest shimmer peeks through. While the disappointing villain, lack of tension, and meh reveal of the titular book's secrets make The Book of Life the weakest novel in the trilogy, at least I am one step closer to an enhanced appreciation of Matthew Goode's performance in the TV version!

In this final book, wicked awesome witch Diana Bishop and her vampire husband Matthew de Clairmont return to the present and must confront another threat: the sinister vampire Benjamin, Matthew's disowned son. Benjamin wants to create the ultimate vampire-witch hybrid, and wouldn't you know it, Diana's carrying two buns in the oven, making her a target (again). To defeat Benjamin, Matthew and Diana must separate to fulfill their own missions--she to complete the sundered Ashmole 782 and he to form alliances strong enough to protect his young family. WILL THEY BE OKAY???

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

Yes, they will. I mentioned before that the tension is nonexistent--I never believed that Diana or her babies were in any real danger. I mean, she has a home birth and time to have two christening ceremonies. Meanwhile, Matthew is off gallivanting in New Orleans to create his very own scion, which he calls the Bishop-Clairmonts, which is actually very sweet! Anyway, Matthew was also clearly going to be just fine, at least until Benjamin inevitably snags him.

Speaking of Benjamin, he's not a compelling villain because he has no backstory-- he's just crazy and evil, period! He's a literal Nazi, or was working with them! But also, he apparently got along very well with a Congregation member's grandmother, and not in his usual rapey way? So in fact, he did (unknowingly) produce a vampire-witch, but also, the big reveal contained in Ashmole 782--the purported book of origins for witches, vampires, and daemons--is that there are and have always been vampire-witches, witch-vampires, daemon-witches, etc! We're all just one big creature family after all!

So while Harkness' message of diversity and inclusion is appreciated, it comes as a bit of a disappointment after two books of hype about Ashmole 782, including the surprising reveal that it's made of creature remains. I guess it's nice that its creator/s thought to use materials that provide genetic proof of its key takeaway (reminder: Matthew is a geneticist). Maybe my expectations are skewed from Attack on Titan, because that series is just one genetic curveball after another.

In other news, Harkness does a great job with the theme of growth and family. Diana and Matthew develop from being aloof/scared of intimacy to super-parents by the end of the trilogy. The family they have is one they created for themselves: blood kin, best friends, a street urchin, a dog! Diana and Matthew are loving, protective, and present a united front (usually). They inspire devotion, and they incite a revolution against the old ways of creature segregation! Hurrah!

Overall, The Book of Life is terrific in its handling of thematic elements; interactions among supporting characters, new and old; and in its core message of knowledge, understanding, and acceptance, especially of yourself. It's the weakest novel in the trilogy only because it could have been so much more. More developed villains! More narrative tension! More honest descriptions of taking care of twins, one of whom demands blood instead of milk! More about the goddess! Just...


TL;DR: A mostly satisfying ending to an interesting trilogy. On to the screen adaptation!

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This post brought to you by leftovers!

Thursday, April 4, 2019

Book Review: Shadow of Night (2012)

The Twilight, PhD saga continues! Shadow of Night is the second novel in Deborah Harkness' All Souls Trilogy, and if you need a refresher on previous happenings, you can read my review of the first book, A Discovery of Witches, or just trust me when I say that a smart, fierce witch meets a charming, dangerous vampire and sparks fly and also they must find an enchanted book. More importantly, this series is now on TV starring Matthew Goode, so it is my pleasure to briefly recap and analyze the books so you can dive straight into his beautiful eyes! Just kidding, he's mine! Hands off!!!

In Shadow of Night, Diana Bishop and Matthew Clairmont go back to the 16th century in an attempt to find the complete Ashmole 782 manuscript, which is missing three pages in the present time. The trip puts their relationship to the test, as Matthew slips back into old habits (read: becomes even bossier) and Diana finds herself, well, a woman back in the days when the fairer sex had no properties, prospects, etc. without a man. Historical figures abound, and Diana fangirls a bit before, obviously, winning over (almost) everyone and learning her true power.

First: this book is solid in dealing with time travel. Harkness introduces readers to new characters who explain Matthew's past and help him grow as a vampire person. The author also shows Diana and Matthew's actions in the past creating anomalies, and how the de Clairmont clan anticipates and resolves those in the present. In my previous review I wondered if Harkness can pull off past shenanigans, and the answer is yes. She did it!

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

And now, a nitpick: the main meat of the novel is Diana's discovery of who and what she truly is, so initially I wasn't sure why the novel is called Shadow of Night. A lot happens here: Diana meets Matthew's friends, dad, employer, etc.; rulers vie for the philosopher's stone; Diana builds a proper household and gets witch tutoring lessons; and so on. The line is explicitly in the novel from a literary work, but it was unclear to me how it applies to the heroine's journey from darkness and into illumination and understanding. But upon further reading, *pushes glasses up nose* it appears to allude to George Chapman's poem, dedicated to Matthew, about knowledge, learning, and virtue. Here is the page where I found that tidbit.

Next: what's most unusual about this book is the lack of a main villain. In A Discovery of Witches, the nastiest members of the Congregation--Peter Knox, Gerbert, and Satu--were Diana's formidable adversaries. By contrast, Shadow of Night has unsavory characters who at best annoy our heroine, or at worst inconvenience her plans. The one exception is the batshit crazy Louisa de Clairmont, who puts Diana in actual physical danger at the end of the second act, much like Satu did in the first book. Louisa's condition underlines the danger of blood rage, which Matthew is also afflicted with, and which he might pass on to his offspring.

Speaking of hot, rich vampires who reproduce, Matthew is at his most Edward Cullen here, darkly handsome and brooding and cloyingly overprotective. The twist with good ol' Matt is that he's genetically predisposed to being completely unhinged when it comes to his mate.

AND SPEAKING OF MATE! THEY FINALLY DID IT! WOO HOO SEXY TIME! Here is where Matt deviates from his Twilight inspiration, in that it took him two books instead of three to, ahem, have relations with his wife. True progress in vampire literature.

Overall, Shadow of Night is a history of Europe nerd's dream come true, and it's an engaging yarn despite how unbelievable it is that Diana and Matthew had such a vast stretch of time to complete their mission. I guess things just take longer in the Elizabethan era? Anyway, come for the descriptions of old-timey clothing, stay for the transformation of Diana into a full-fledged weaver, complete with firedrake (wyvern)! 

TL;DR: A strong middle chapter in a highly entertaining trilogy.

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This post brought to you by Trader Joe's Elote chips! So flavor, much pepper!

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Book Review: A Discovery of Witches (2011)

A Discovery of Witches is the bougiest novel I have ever read. It's got vampire yoga, a witch with a PhD who rows and rides horses, fortresses, ancient manuscripts, MDs, tea, geneticists, helicopters, and loving descriptions of wine, so much wine! Midway through, I wondered to myself: Am I reading a trashy novel? Is this parody? Perhaps! But this book trilogy is now a UK TV series starring my boyfriend Matthew Goode, so before I watch, (nerd voice) I just want to be able to judge its fidelity to the source material.

>>> SPOILERS BELOW <<<

The novel, by US scholar Deborah Harkness, starts solidly. Readers are introduced to Diana Bishop, a young tenured Yale professor who also happens to be a witch who also happens to reject her magical heritage because of a traumatic childhood event. Diana inadvertently opens Ashmole 782, a mysterious, enchanted alchemical manuscript, which activates the Plot. The tall, dark, brooding Matthew Claremont, also a professor, also a vampire, wants that book! But witches don't trust vampires, and vice versa! WILL THE TWO OF THEM EVER OVERCOME THEIR DOUBTS AND DIFFERENCES AND FALL IN LOVE, AGAINST ALL ODDS?

Once the Love Interest comes into the picture, Diana is revealed to be a Mary Sue: a character who excels at everything. In A Discovery of Witches, Diana is an intellectual giant, athletic, and brave, so brave! Her only physical flaw--alas!--is an errant strand of hair that she simply cannot get under control! All the better for her vampire protector to, you guessed it, tuck it tenderly behind her ear! But Diana needs no protector! She is a fiercely independent woman, who got where she is with her amazing smarts and hard work and definitely not her magic! Which--double alas!--she cannot use properly*, possibly because it is an allegory for how hard it is for a woman to flex her mind muscles with all the insecure man-babies around! Only a vampire with multiple doctorates can possibly be her match!

(*Mocking aside, Diana can't use her magic because her mom saw the future, bound her against her own magic, and sacrificed herself and her husband so Diana could live. Grim stuff, but as a parent I can relate. Although my ghost would be all, i literally died for u, why u no appreciate me versus Rebecca Bishop's actively helpful apparition in a moment of crisis.)

And because Diana is all that, she earns the grudging admiration of all the non-villain characters she meets. Yes, even the dreaded vampire mother-in-law, the surly vampire brother-in-law, and the snooty vampire geneticist!

As for Matthew...I just can't with him. He's so big and strong and smart and sophisticated and devoted and so transparently a fantasy. He initially keeps away from our heroine because he has a past and anger issues but she's just so amazing that he comes to love her more than he's ever loved anyone in all his 1,500 years. He also refuses to boink Diana despite her multiple invitations. Rude!!! Also, c.f. Edward Cullen.

All griping aside, the world Harkness creates in A Discovery of Witches is a genuine joy. Essentially, there are four humanoid species: humans, witches, vampires, and daemons. Those last three are vividly described; for example, witches can cast spells and use magic (two different things!), vampires like research because of the long hours and isolation, and daemons tend to become famous/infamous because of their hyper-creativity. The non-humans try not to intermingle because it attracts unwanted attention, giving rise to taboos and bigoted ideas against the other species. But Ashmole 782, the spellbound book that Diana briefly reads, threatens to expose the (possibly common) origin(s) of all four species. Matthew's quest for the manuscript is revealed to be due to his desire to understand their beginnings, because his research in different fields all point to the eventual extinction of the non-humans. He thinks Ashmole 782 can help stop that.

Meanwhile, a group dedicated to keeping all the species apart is also keen to get the manuscript, and every single member so far has been unpleasant or downright evil. As villains go, the witches of that group have been fairly effective, with Satu the Finn being the standout for kidnapping and torture. While Diana and Matthew's adversaries appear to be stand-ins for the dangers of narrow-mindedness and hypocrisy, they also might represent ignorance? I don't know; I haven't read books two and three!

Which bring us to the best part of the novel: the mystery at the center. What does Ashmole 782 contain? Why are three pages cut out, and who did the cutting? What will the humans do to complicate the interspecies conflict, and how will it involve the daemon Nathaniel's apparently elite hacker skillz? Can Harkness write the time travel aspect in a way that makes sense? Can everyone get over Diana, or will my eyeballs roll right out of my head? I can't wait to find out!!!

On a final note, it's really fun to read about the history of science, and specifically alchemy, Diana's specialty. There are moments of wry humor throughout the book, e.g. Diana resisting the urge to type, "Book sighed" when she first opens Ashmole 782. Hopefully the other two books will have more of those, instead of the other characters fawning over the main character.  

TL;DR: Twilight with graduate degrees and more money.

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This post brought to you by the New England Patriots' sixth Super Bowl win! :P 

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Salt Fat Acid Heat

Salt Fat Acid Heat is a terrific book and a fun Netflix series. Created by chef and laugh machine Samin Nosrat, both works center on her conviction that anyone can cook well once they understand the four foundations of delicious food. The book and the show are divided into each of these four topics, and Nosrat's sheer, infectious love for food radiates in both mediums.

The book is especially useful because it imparts important lessons. For example, I now prep my meats by salting them the night before cooking, or at least one hour before. I also make sure they're at room temperature prior to cooking. I do the water sizzle test on my pan to confirm that it's properly hot. Then I taste as I cook. It's fun!

Meanwhile, the Netflix show is more of a travelogue. Nosrat visits specific places known for their ingredients and how they put those together, finds local chefs, and learns from them. Then she caps it off with a group dinner. I found the Salt (Japan) and Heat (California) episodes more edifying, but it could be because those included the lessons I took to heart. The illustrations and animations in Heat were particularly entertaining and informative, especially the bit about how a convection oven works (also covered in the book, but without the visuals). But Nosrat's trip to Italy (Fat) and Mexico (Acid) seem to showcase regional cooking, rather than educate viewers about the individual component. Still, it's mesmerizing to watch an Italian matriarch make pesto by hand, and seeing the turkey dishes and the boxed bees in Yucatán is mouth-watering.

In the end, Samin Nosrat is a fabulous chef and expresses her love through her cooking, which make both versions of Salt Fat Acid Heat delightful and worth a look. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an inexplicable craving for salsa picante...

TL; DR: Cook at home and oversalt everything! Mwahahahahaaa

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This post brought to you by subzero wind chill!

Tuesday, January 22, 2019

Book Review: The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History (2004)

John M. Barry's The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History is dense and fascinating, with some occasionally strained prose and conclusions that nevertheless underline the severity of the subject matter. Overall, it's a great primer on the rise of good medical science in the US and its response to a powerful virus.

First, Barry establishes the setting: a country where doctors are barely trained and frequently incompetent, at least until William Welch begins collecting talented physicians and researchers for the opening of the Johns Hopkins in 1893. The institution revolutionized medical education and produced brilliant scientists who would play key roles in fighting the 1918 pandemic: Oswald Avery at the Rockefeller Institute, William Park and Anna Williams at the New York City Department of Public Health, and Paul Lewis at the University of Pennsylvania, to name a few. By chronicling the remarkable speed of the transformation of US medicine in the late 19th and early 20th century, Barry illustrates both the strengths and the limitations that American physician-scientists brought to the table once the virus begins its attack.

And what a virus it is! Influenza is the villain in the book, with its cellular biology and mechanisms explained in great detail to highlight how it can be almost unbeatable. (Although this virologist posted some corrections.) Under its onslaught, victims multiplied rapidly, coughed up blood, turned black, and died very, very quickly. The suffering that accompanied the deaths was similarly horrific: people too sick to care for themselves starved to death, medical personnel also expired in droves, and entire cities ground to a standstill as isolation became the norm. And all this happened during World War I, so the country's resources were geared towards the military--which, as Barry notes, was likely the starting point of the outbreak, with soldiers suffering high casualties.

Barry adds two secondary villains to his tale: misinformation and poor leadership. He describes how major newspapers minimized the dangers and risks, choosing to blare about hand washing and not spitting in public. He makes the case that fear of the unknown is the worst, so first we need to make things known, and then the fear can be stopped. The author also points to many political leaders who reacted too slowly to the virus, despite being warned ahead of time about its potency and likely effects on areas under their governance. Barry even suggests that President Woodrow Wilson was a victim of the great influenza, contrasting his firm stance against the demands of the French to his capitulation to the Treaty of Versailles after he gets sick. Apparently, that particular strain of the flu could have had neurological side effects as well, in which case it contributed to post-WWI Germany and the rise of fascism!

In any case, effective villains require great heroes, and here Barry supplies readers with a host of medical professionals who worked frantically to identify the virus and concoct vaccines. Again, Barrys' writing is terrific when describing the application of science: of how the virus is injected into animals, how serum is created, the many attempts to isolate the correct pathogen, etc. The personal stories of the scientists are also woven seamlessly into their struggles. The American Red Cross and even high society play their own critical roles in directing supplies and assets to the affected. These are tight, tense chapters.

However, there's a tendency toward purple prose (e.g. the overdone repetition of "this was influenza, only influenza") at some points, which is jarringly different from the clear, enjoyable narrative flow that makes up the rest of the book. This attempt at drama is most obvious when Barry focuses on Lewis, a highly respected researcher who he contends is the last victim of the pandemic when he died of yellow fever in 1929. Lewis' output diminished after the pandemic, he was antisocial, and his marriage was troubled, but it's still unclear how the influenza pandemic, which Lewis studied--like hundreds of others--led to his death. Barry seems to be reaching here?

In conclusion, The Great Influenza is well researched and combines a number of different elements to craft a compelling history of a virus, those who fell to it, and those who fought valiantly against it. It's instructive, interesting, and a page-turner! It also shows that some things never change; two words: nursing shortage.

TL;DR: Get your flu shot.

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This post brought to you by subzero temperatures!

Thursday, December 27, 2018

The Haunting of Hill House


My ducklings, my gift to you this during this solstice season is: you don't have to read or watch The Haunting of Hill House, because I did it for you! Merry merry!

First, the basics: the OG The Haunting of Hill House is a 1959 horror novel written by Shirley Jackson. It's a classic of the genre, with extraordinary prose, brilliant handling of themes, a fragile protagonist, and the vividly ominous Hill House. In the book, Dr. Montague wants to write about the purported hauntings at the property, and three people show up to join his week-long investigation: main character Eleanor, the free-spirited psychic Theo, and the charming Luke, heir to Hill House. The only other characters are the unfriendly Dudleys, who maintain the house. Hauntings occur during the guests' stay, culminating in a tragic ending.

Meanwhile, the The Haunting of Hill House Netflix series is a 10-episode horror/drama about a family that falls apart during a summer spent at Hill House. Each (surviving) family member continues to be broken in some form, and Hill House lurks constantly in the background, waiting for their return. The show takes its inspiration from the book, and so is its own contained story, one that borrows certain elements from the source material and attaches them as appropriate.

Below a Venn diagram illustrating my point:


The show calls back to the book in small, powerful ways. One is the lifting of lines, verbatim in certain cases, from the novel. Jackson's writing is so strong that her words reverberate long past the final chapter, so the quotes used by the show are instantly recognizable. The opening paragraph of the novel, which immediately sets the tone for the malevolent secrets of Hill House, also serves as the first line on the show, to the same effect. Mrs. Dudley's "in the night, in the dark" monologue is present in both mediums, and Eleanor's cup of stars makes an appearance, altered from Jackson's original version.

Character names on the show are another book reference. Book Eleanor is TV Nell (a nickname for Eleanor), Luke is her twin brother, Theo their older sister, and Hugh their dad. There are also guest appearances, of a sort--there's a Dr. Montague, Arthur (in a scene with the best meet-cute), and even Shirley. As a fan of the book, I appreciate those little Easter eggs.

Obviously, both works examine ghosts. In the novel, personal torments appear to be the strongest factor in the hauntings. One character in particular is overwhelmed by Hill House, which, according to the author, is "not sane" because it exists "under conditions of absolute reality." The manifestations of this reality are too terrible for the victim, who has a lethal moment of insanity. Meanwhile, in the show, Hill House appears to collect unhappy souls, who then recruit others in gruesome, terrifying ways.

But which one is scarier?, you ask. Oh, the show, by far. It has the requisite apparitions and incredibly effective horror music, plus there are numerous hidden ghosts in otherwise ordinary scenes. In addition, it becomes increasingly difficult to watch because none of the characters deserve the horrors visited upon them (except Steve, who sucks.). The show is excellent at building tension and dread through dialogue, framing, music, pacing, and of course, the phenomenal cast and crew. There are two episodes that come to mind when the phrase "Mind. Blown." absolutely applies, one because of the incredible ending, and another because of the camera work. So, well done, team The Haunting of Hill House!

Finally, a word about endings. As befits two separate stories, the book and the show diverge in their conclusions. Initially, the book ending made me go, "Durr?" but then I came to realize that it was a suitable, if crushing, outcome of everything readers had learned about Hill House and about the characters who stayed there. By contrast, the TV ending made me go, "Dafuq." I felt that it detracted from what viewers had seen of Hill House. I mean, this place is not only insane, it also manipulates time and space, such that what's scream-inducing in one episode turns out to be pitiful in another, and vice versa!

But as hubby is fond of saying: "It's fine! Everything's fine!" So, dear readers, if one of your New Year resolutions is to do something that scares you, then by all means, read the book, then watch the show, and be afraid at night time for weeks, like me!

TL;DR: Scary af, highly recommend both.

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This post brought to you by my year-end sniffles! Yay.

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Book Review: Four Fish: the Future of the Last Wild Food (2010)

Paul Greenberg's Four Fish: the Future of the Last Wild Food is a good introduction to aquaculture and the industrial fishing practices that bring us our sashimi and scrod. Greenberg, a fishing enthusiast from an early age, contends that four fish--salmon, bass, cod, and tuna--have come to dominate our dinner plates. He devotes a chapter to each fish, vividly describing their physical and physiological characteristics, their range and habits, as well as the evolution of humanity's methods for catching them in increasingly larger numbers.

In this way, Greenberg underlines the inherent lack of sustainability in our collective fishing processes. Overfishing has had such a devastating impact on the focus populations, and Greenberg advocates for government regulation, showing that fish numbers tend to recover when official intervention gives them breathing room. His dismissal of individual consumer choice as a significant influence on the fishing industry is an interesting departure from other food books that I've read. He does have a point--if governments prevented overfished families from reaching the market in the first place, then ordinary folks wouldn't have to vote with their wallet, as it were. Greenberg thinks subsidizing artisanal fishing is the way to go.

Whether or not that has a snowball's chance in hell of happening, I learned a lot from this book! For instance, I found out that the larval stage has astronomically high mortality rates, so the fish we currently eat are those bred to survive that stage (if farmed), or are tough and/or lucky (if wild). I also had no idea that it takes so much fish feed to grow a fish. I was blissfully ignorant about how Chile, Norway, Alaska, and other places supply our sources of omega-3 fatty acids. I had zero clue that party boats for fishing were a thing. Finally, until I saw the cover of this book, I did not know what the eponymous four fish looked like in their non-filleted form. The more you know!

In conclusion, Four Fish is an informative, enjoyable read that practically radiates with the author's love and enthusiasm for, and deep connection to, the subject matter. The prose is clear, the ideas flow well, and best of all, I came away feeling that there are viable solutions to overfishing...if only we could get our act together, which we occasionally do!

TL;DR: A fun, educational book!

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This post brought to you by US midterm elections!

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Book Review, Halloween Edition: The Little Stranger (2009)

'Tis the season to be...spooked!, so I heartily recommend The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. The novel is set in postwar England and the bulk of the action takes place in Hundreds Hall, a deteriorating mansion owned by the Ayres family. Waters' writing here is incredible, as she deftly intertwines themes of loss, family, societal shifts, and also, ghosts. It's a riveting read, and makes me want to see all the works of this author.

The protagonist in The Little Stranger is Dr. Faraday, a rural doctor who has a history with Hundreds Hall, having visited as a child. Thirty years later, he is called there for a medical check-up, and soon his visits become more regular. Through Faraday, readers realize just how far Hundreds has fallen from its glory days. The author vividly describes the estate's decline, which coincides with the deterioration of the family that owns it.

The Little Stranger is a slow burn, and a lot of space is given to illustrating the connection between Hundreds and the Ayres family members. All of them are burdened with their home, to some degree or other. The "master" of the hall, Roderick, is buried in the desperate work of keeping their finances afloat in the midst of a recession and postwar austerity measures. His older sister Caroline is a spinster who is reduced to household work because they can only afford one maid. And their mother, Mrs. Ayres, is in a perpetual (but hidden) state of grief over Susan, her first daughter, who died at Hundreds as a young girl.

Now, the trailer for the movie adaptation starring Domnhall Gleeson makes it seem like Susan is the ghost, but it's more complex than that. In Dr. Faraday's narration, the main characters perceive Hundreds Hall in starkly different ways: Faraday, the outsider, a man from a working-class background, sees a chance at healing and a return to glory; while the Ayres family gloomily foretell its demise, along with the end of the aristocratic class.

These opposing views come into relief once eerie events begin happening. As the Ayres fortunes become even worse, Roderick and Caroline--both sensible, stiff-upper-lip types--blame something in the house. By contrast, Faraday has reasoned explanations for everything. His skepticism and the bizarre nature of the Ayres' misfortunes create a tension and keep readers guessing about what's really going on. The cause, the "little stranger" of the title, is actually explained much later on, and it adds another layer to the mystery of what is ailing the mansion and its inhabitants. Are Faraday's rational conclusions correct? Or is something else at work at Hundreds Hall?

Whatever the case may be, the excellent writing is indisputable. Waters makes Hundreds Hall into another character, at turns pitiful, malevolent, and inviting. Her descriptions of the interiors of the estate are so clear that at one point, I put the book down and half-expected to see dilapidated wallpaper and antique furniture. The "hauntings" are also deliciously spooky, with the standout being a series of occurrences involving the nursery. Finally, kudos to Waters for writing a gothic horror/romance novel where the heroine is repeatedly described as looking like a real person, with big ol' thighs and whatnot, instead of a delicate beauty with slender fingers and suchlike.

In conclusion, The Little Stranger is a well written piece of historical horror fiction, and might I suggest reading it before watching its movie version, which came out in August and will hopefully be on cable sometime soon!

TL;DR: A haunting, disturbing read, perfect for Halloween!

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This post brought to you by Swedish chocolate!

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Movie Review: Hidden Figures (2017)

Hidden Figures tells the story of three women who made extraordinary contributions to the space race during the Cold War. In consistently overcoming putdowns and setbacks with grace and dignity, they become pioneers: Mary Jackson (Janelle Monae) becomes the first black woman engineer; Dorothy Vaughn (Octavia Spencer) becomes one of the first IBM coders at NASA; and Katherine Johnson (Cookie Lyon Taraji P. Henson) gets herself into "the room where it happens," as it were, through sheer talent and an unrelenting commitment to doing the best work possible. The film celebrates the women's friendship and accomplishments, and illuminates worthy new heroes.

How does it compare to the book? The film is gentle, even light in its retelling of the recent past. The book, Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly is outstanding for its affectionate descriptions of Virginia's role in nurturing NACA; the author's blunt portrayal of racism, sexism, and segregation; and her reverence for the intellect, work ethic, and endurance of the women "computers" chronicled. By contrast, the movie shows the darker tendencies of society only through numerous awkward and tense moments as well as sharp one-liners. The film version of Hidden Figures isn't as methodical or analytical as the novel in reminding us how deeply embedded the racial divides were back in the day, relying instead on showing the many small humiliations suffered by its main characters to communicate how institutionalized racism held back an entire people (c.f. having to run 40 minutes to use the "colored bathroom.") That said, the movie is plenty dramatic when those barriers are dismantled (c.f. scene with Kevin Costner and sledgehammer). While the movie takes plenty of liberties with the source material, it treats the titular hidden figures with respect and presents them as keenly aware of how their successes ripple throughout their community.

Why "computers"? You see, my child, from days of long ago, from uncharted regions of the universe, comes a legend. The legend of...people doing complex mathematical calculations by hand! Before Apple compressed computers into that thing that's now in your pocket/hand, "computers" meant people who computed. For example, in the movie, when NASA had to figure out the go/no-go parameters of John Glenn's return trip from orbit, here comes the trope of the glasses-wearing nerd at the chalkboard -- only this time it's COOKIE LYON!!!

Source: PopSugar

For more on women computers, I think there's a section in Simon Singh's Big Bang about the Harvard Computers who worked on astronomical data in the late19th/early 20th century. Wikipedia also has an entry.

Who had the best one-liners/comebacks? While Monae played Mary Jackson as deliciously shameless and undaunted, often having to be restrained by her friends, the prize goes to Spencer's Dorothy Vaughn. Here are a couple of highlights:

Son: Did you just steal that library book?
Dorothy: I pay taxes!

Kristen Dunst (unsupportive manager): No matter what you may think, I don't have anything against y'all.
Dorothy: I know. I know you probably believe that.

She read her. REEEEAAAAAD.

So should I watch it? Yes, of course! This movie knows what it wants to do -- showcase the quiet heroism of its talented trio -- and does it with plenty of heart, laughs, and a sweet soundtrack. Best of all, it's comparable to the book in its presentation of math as a powerful tool: for the country, for the professional and personal lives of the heroines, and for collective scientific advancement. Hurray, math, truly the dominion of hidden figures!

TL;DR: A feel-good celebration of fierce mathematicians!

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This post brought you by mid-afternoon hungerrrrrr!

Thursday, November 3, 2016

A People’s History of the United States (2003 ebook)

Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States is a monumental work that pays tribute to the spirit of the ordinary person, celebrating our successes and exposing the brutal excesses of the powerful minority that plays everyone else against each other. Using the two pillars of history, evidence and interpretation, Zinn boldly presents a narrative that skewers the idea of “the people.” Zinn shows a United States that began and expanded because of a group of elites that monopolized private property and profit and crushed all opposition. The result is a global superpower supported by a system of staggering inequality where concessions to common folk are given only grudgingly, when enough furious spasms by the vast majority threaten to overturn the status quo. The events described in this book are frequently infuriating, especially since it’s so easy to draw direct connections between past exploitation and present conflicts. A People’s History of the United States is a must-read for every student of US history, nay, for all citizens!

A Bloody Beginning 
The book is a chronological retelling of the roots of the modern United States. It begins with the genocide of the Arawaks by Christopher Columbus, who needed his to trip to the Americas to be wildly profitable for his royal patrons. Then comes the expulsion of the Native Americans, a truly dispiriting series of broken promises, outright lies, and massacres. The territories of Mexico are taken in similarly sordid ways.

Afterwards comes an examination of the American Revolution, presented as the efforts of a select few—50-plus white men—to gain freedom for themselves. Later chapters make it clear that the Constitution was always intended for the men at the very top of the socioeconomic hierarchy. For instance, Zinn points out that the Civil War could be seen as the result of northern industrial ambitions at odds with the southern agrarian system. Freeing slaves was a bonus, rather than the overriding moral concern about keeping the promise of the Constitution. After reunification, black people continued to be oppressed, as did the white working class. And of course, women were marginalized both in the private and public sphere.

This paragraph, from the chapter “Robber Barons and Rebels,” sums it up well: "After 1877...the industrial and political elites of the North and South would take hold of the country and organize the greatest march of economic growth in human history. They would do it with the aid of, and at the expense of, black labor, white labor, Chinese labor, European immigrant labor, female labor, rewarding them differently by race, sex, national origin, and social class, in such a way as to create separate levels of oppression--a skillful terracing to stabilize the pyramid of wealth."

The Battle Continues
It gets a little better. While in the earlier chapters I was an outrage emoji (╬ Ò ‸ Ó), appalled at the sheer scale of the abuse and deception of those in power—politicians, businessmen, the media, and the military—in later sections I was cheered by the numerous examples of people fighting back, of actual incremental successes being won through literal bloodshed and unwavering persistence. The people were just not taking it anymore, especially when their children and other loved ones kept dying from starvation, sickness, or official action. After the Civil War, major movements rose: for labor unions, for women’s equality, for civil rights. These collective actions are the pride of America, the causes just and the spirit true to the words contained in the Constitution.

Much of American progress in the early twentieth century was made on the backs of millions of people living and working in crowded, unsanitary conditions. During the tumult of the labor years, the people marching, protesting, and striking sought reasonable changes: livable wages, safe and improved workplaces, a shorter workday (10 hours instead of 18), school instead of jobs for children, and so on. But these accommodations threatened profits, and so the response was often brutal: strikebreakers, gun battles, massacres of women and children. But the unions survived, and OSHA was created. In the same way, the feminist revolution of the sixties achieved Roe v. Wade. The civil rights movement eventually forced desegregation.

But the establishment, still entrenched, pushed back. Time and again, the Supreme Court showed itself a tool of the ruling class, applying the law in a way that favored its peers. The rich and powerful escaped the consequences of their actions—see Nixon—but the poor and/or the dissidents were beaten, harassed, jailed, and sometimes killed. The prison system receives special attention from Zinn because it highlights the callousness of the mighty: when policies and ideology create the conditions for poverty and therefore crime, the solution is to imprison the poor who acted out of desperation or anger.

Overseas 
The two World Wars gave other countries a taste of US hegemony and hypocrisy. In the Philippines, our history books tell us that the US took us by force from Spain, eliminated our aspiring leaders, and denied us self-rule. What I didn’t know was that the US soldiers then were segregated along color lines, with black soldiers treated so poorly that many deserted. Zinn also provides details of the CIA’s support for oppressive regimes in Latin America and the Middle East, pointing out that murderous autocrats were fine as long as they’re friendly to US corporate interests. For example, in 1980, the murder of four American women in El Salvador basically got a ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ from the (then-Carter/incoming Reagan) government because the junta in power was supported by the US as a buffer against communism. More details are in this article, among many others. 

In summary: those perplexed by anti-US sentiment abroad need only read the chapter entitled, “Carter-Reagan-Bush: the Bipartisan Consensus” to understand. US foreign policy is shown to be a mix of bullying, entitlement, and disproportionate responses to perceived threats, under the rallying cry of “Freedom and democracy!” with, of course, a healthy dash of racism.

The Few vs. the Many 
In the chapter, “The Seventies: Under Control?” after all the illegal activities by Nixon and his cronies, an adviser to President Kennedy said, “All the rotten apples should be thrown out. But save the barrel.” In other words, the system was fine, it was just a few bad actors. But given everything that Zinn has revealed in previous chapters, that’s a hugely imperfect analogy. Most of us aren't even in the barrel—we're in the dirt. A major theme in Zinn’s history of the US is the stratification of society, an unbridgeable gap that has existed since the very beginning. Myths are encouraged by the ruling class to maintain the illusion of democracy, such as the “self-made man,” and “personal responsibility.” According to (some, #notallmen) people born to wealth and/or power, poor people don’t have the discipline to work hard and save. But Zinn shows that US capitalism tends to be unkind to those who start life with massive disadvantages such as darker skin and lack of capital. The rich also cultivate the middle class as a loyal buffer against the poor. So basically there are millions of Americans born with the deck stacked against them, thus ensuring the continuation of the generational cycle of poverty.

Which is not to say that the people at the top are uniformly evil. Many are philanthropic and interested in redistributing wealth to minimize inequalities. Others dedicate their careers and lives to making things better. But the system—the government, the courts, the police, even the supposedly free press—are all geared towards the interests of the powerful few. According to Zinn, even the ballot is complicit: it channels energy away from organized demonstrations (peaceful or not) that may have immediate positive effects. It’s rigged!, he might say, and certainly for much different reasons than those shrieking those words today.

This Book and Elections
Speaking of the ballot, among the most revealing chapters was about the Clinton presidency, which drove home the essential sameness of the two major political parties, the same willingness to sacrifice lives for corporate profit and military posturing. The author also notes that with less than half the eligible population voting during most elections, “the people’s mandate” is not really a thing, and it’s less important anyway than alliances among the key players at the top.

Reading this chapter and the ones that came before it makes it easy to see why the current Republican nominee appeals to so many, and why so many are howling about the biased media. These supporters want a savior and are blind to the irony that they're putting their faith in someone who was born into the elite class and has absolutely no incentive to change the system in their favor. And so his opponent, while certainly part of the establishment and much favored by many elites, differentiates herself in that she is a woman—a member of the largest minority, still held back from many of the highest positions in the country. If nothing else, Hillary’s victory would be symbolic of how far the United States has come from its bloody, racist, and sexist beginnings.

But also, this.

In any case, A People’s History of the United States is fantastic reading material every time the vote’s on. If you like being depressed about your own powerlessness, I mean.

Nerd Note
The bibliography list was overwhelmingly composed of secondary sources. When I first saw the list I was like, “What? Where are the primary sources???” But the book is a yuuuuge undertaking spanning centuries and hundreds of instances of individual and group resistance, so Zinn mostly aggregated other works that were themselves collections of "people's histories." Plus, there was widespread illiteracy back in the day, especially among the people Zinn focuses on.

In Conclusion 
The Afterword reveals that Zinn is well aware of the inherent bias of historians despite claims to objectivity. He is humble about his goals and the enormity of the task he chose to undertake. But in his long toil we have a gripping history book that prompts readers to examine our past critically, with an eye toward how to finally create the haven of democracy that the US is supposed to be: a place with equal rights and equal opportunities for everyone.

TL;DR: The United States was and continues to be an oligarchy, but things are better now?

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This post brought to you by soy sauce! The one that spilled inside my backpack because I forgot to put my lunch in a plastic bag. ☹

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Book Review: I Am Malala: the Girl Who Stood Up for Education and was Shot by the Talban (2013)

I Am Malala, by Malala Yousafzai, is a hero's autobiography. Malala is a longtime Pakistani advocate for education, especially girls’ education. Fearful of her efforts and her growing influence worldwide, the Taliban shot her in the head when she was on her way to school. She was 15.

Now 19, Malala continues to work for her heart’s desire: education for every child. In her book, which is mostly chronological, she touches on many broad themes, including:

Home and Identity 

Named after Malalai, “the Joan of Arc” of Pakistan, Malala is put on the path to awesomehood by her father, a determined educator who built schools and was very active in local peace organizations. At every point in his daughter’s life, Ziauddin encouraged her to succeed in her studies, and to take real action to effect change to be of service to the less fortunate. He led her by his example, with every expectation that she would live up to her name. He was so known as a champion for education and progressive values that his family became more and more afraid that the Taliban would target him. Nope, they went for his little girl instead.

Malala loves the valley of Swat, frequently mentioning it and describing it as a paradise on earth. She speaks lovingly of her house’s fruit tree, of the flat roof where adults had tea and the kids played cricket, of the bazaar where her mother bought food and supplies. She also talks about the waters made filthy by human waste, and a mountain of trash that the community’s poorest children pick through for useable scraps. Good and bad, she loves her home – but hasn’t been back since she was airlifted to the UK after the attack.

Malala also explains the many identities assumed by her people: Pashtuns first, Pakistanis or Muslims second, and so on. By laying out these internal complications and conflicting loyalties, she points to possible reasons for the complicity of her fellow Pakistanis in the rise of the Taliban throughout the region.

But there are lighthearted moments, too – like when she describes her fights with her brothers, fantasizing about being a vampire like in Twilight, and chatting with her friend about skin whitening cream (!). She’s a teenager! But, y’know, a Nobel Peace laureate and world-famous activist.

The Rise of Terrorism

Malala illustrates the poverty and ignorance that allows terrorist groups like the Taliban to seed, and the government corruption/weakness and global tensions (particularly anti-US sentiment) that help them flourish. She observes that theirs is a society that shows little respect to the lowest classes, like orphans or manual laborers, and so it these young men who are taken in by radical madrasas and taught a distorted version of Islam.

More specifically, I Am Malala shows how the Taliban grew in her region: one man started a radio broadcast that initially appealed to many in Swat. He called for greater adherence to Islamic teachings, praised individuals by name when they did something “good” (e.g. stopped their daughters from going to school), and collected money from supporters. Then, bit by bit, he escalated his rhetoric and gained enough followers – Talibs – that public beatings and harassment became a practice. They proved to be resilient foes: even the army’s intervention did not completely erase them from the region, as evidenced by the attack on Malala.

Faith 

Malala is strongly religious. Every mention of the prophet Muhammad comes with the acronym PBUH – “peace be upon him.” She has tremendous faith in a gentle, kind god, one who listens to the prayers of children and protects the innocent. She cites the lessons of the Koran as emphasizing education and compassion. Implicitly throughout the book, she is presenting herself, her family, and all others who fight for peace as true Muslims, and the Taliban and their supporters as at best misguided and at worst monsters who are intentionally misusing their shared religion.

They destroy and build nothing new, Malala writes, listing the numerous ancient sites and statues the Taliban detonated in Swat when they were at the height of their power. The Taliban also forbade girls from going to school, the sale or consumption of Western music or movies, and cracked down on petty infractions, like a man’s pants length. Clearly, these are the actions of men without faith. And one reason for that is that many of them are orphans, and were raised in the lessons of jihad. Another reason is the antipathy toward change and Western dominance, which is shared by wealthy Middle East countries, which incidentally also fund radical madrasas. Resentment, anger, and fear are the festering core of the terrorist movement – not faith.

There are more things to praise in I Am Malala, including her absorbing retelling of the events immediately after her shooting – events that were relayed to her afterwards, because she only regained consciousness weeks later. The structure of the book is compelling, beginning with a snapshot of the shooting, and ending with Malala’s musing that she would have answered the gunman’s question – “Who is Malala?” – by identifying herself as Malala, and then telling him that all she wants is education for him, for his children, for all children. And to this day, this is her wish, and because she’s badass, she’s still fighting for it.

TL;DR: An inspiring young woman’s tale of love, education, geopolitics, history, and the bullet that ended her fears instead of her life.

Bonus: Malala’s UN speech at age 16 and her Nobel prize acceptance speech.

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This post brought to you by a light fall shower!

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Summer Reading List

I squeezed in some non-Discworld books this summer, too! Twitter-length reviews below:


Why We Lost: A General’s Inside Account of the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars (2014)
Daniel P. Bolger
Great details on combat missions; some analysis on personality, politics, & strategy issues. Author says US lost because forces didn’t stay.

Game Change: Obama and Clinton, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime (2010)
John Heilemann, Mark Halperin
Juicy behind-the-scenes look at the contenders in the 2008 election. Summary: Obama led while Clinton managed, McCain screwed up.

Between the World and Me (2015)
Ta-Nehisi Coates
A heartfelt, often heartbreaking letter from father to son, about his experience being black and recognizing the blinding power of fear.

Science…For Her! (2014)
Megan Amram
Skewers sexism, racism, and other social ills via satirical prose and “fun, flirty” quizzes a la Cosmo. Has whole chapter dedicated to kale.

TL;DR: I recommend all four books pictured above.

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This post brought to you by another cloudy late-summer day!

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

I Have Now Read Every Discworld Novel (Well, Almost)

This summer, my goal was to read all the Discworld novels that I skipped over. The main series has 42 books; I had read 23 so far. My first Discworld book was Witches Abroad (1991), and after that I got my paws on every single story featuring Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and the other witches up in the mountains. I was also a huge fan of Sam Vimes and the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, so I was fully informed of their fictional exploits up to Sir Terry Pratchett’s death.

So I hadn’t read the one-offs, the Rincewind the wizard stories, and the Death/Susan books. This meant I had to go all the way back to the eighties:

The Colour of Magic (1983)
The Light Fantastic (1986)
Mort (1987)
Sourcery (1988)
Pyramids (1989)

Hot take: All interesting reads, but nowhere near the quality of Pratchett’s later works, where he baked searing social commentary right into the absurd hilarity of the narrative flow. These earliest works certainly explore social themes (e.g. tourism vs. urbanism equality and power, fate, etc.) but the madcap adventures tend to hog the limelight.

So then I moved on to works from the nineties that I missed:

Eric (1990)
Moving Pictures (1990)
Reaper Man (1991)
Small Gods (1992)
Soul Music (1994)
Interesting Times (1994)
Hogfather (1996)
The Last Continent (1998)

By this point, Pratchett really delves into his created universe and the characters inhabiting it.

*Favorite: Hogfather, where Death takes over for the Hogfather (Santa Claus) and his adopted daughter Susan needs to step in.

*Least favorite: Soul Music, which is a commentary on rock ‘n roll, because the main character Imp has no personality. Possibly this points to the music becoming such a phenomenon that the frontman is swallowed by it? Did I miss that?

I now turned to the only two books that I missed from the aughts:

Thief of Time (2001)
Unseen Academicals (2009)

Both are terrific. Thief of Time, which follows the history monk Lu-Tze’s attempt to stop the building of a clock that will trap time, has excellent antagonists that go through their own arcs as the story progresses. Meanwhile, Unseen Academicals is particularly brilliant in its thematic skewerings: bigotry and fear, mob mentality and tribalism, sports and politics, and unlikely attractions. The protagonist in the novel reminds me of Hubby – an unabashed geek, an inspired builder and voracious reader who talks/explains reflexively, sometimes with awkward results.

(Love you, babe! flirtykiss emoji)

Finally, I was ready to tackle Pratchett’s final two works:

Raising Steam (2013)
The Shepherd’s Crown (2015)

Pratchett was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s in 2007. I remember wondering if this degenerative disease affected Snuff (2011), because when I read it, my impression was that it was excessively dense and sometimes repetitive.

However, his last two books proved that Snuff is the one exception, or possibly I sniffed too many permanent markers after entering the real world (thanks to Markers Anonymous for their support! Clean for 8 years!!! Well, maybe a little sniff now and then.).  

Raising Steam, starring Moist von Lipwig, is the perfect Discworld novel: there’s a plucky protagonist, strong supporting players, sinister villains, tense action, and important social themes (progress versus tradition, the exacting nature of engineering, immigration/citizenship, and more). The Shepherd’s Crown, while clearly incomplete (as confirmed by the afterword), is good enough to stand on its own against any of the other fantastic entries in the Discworld series. In many ways, it was the perfect ending for this Discworld fan. In the novel, Granny Weatherwax, foremost among all witches, passes on, and transfers the mantle to Tiffany Aching, a hardworking young prodigy. The inextricability of responsibility, self-confidence and self-care is a major theme here, but of course Pratchett inserts other thought-provoking concepts, such as the man-shed for husbands.

In conclusion: I haven’t read The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, which I understand is a satire of the Pied Piper tale, because reasons. But yeah, I achieved my summer reading goal. Go me!

TL;DR: I read 18 Discworld novels this summer. 

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This post brought to you by rain! FINALLY!

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Book Review: Big Bang: the Origin of the Universe (2004)

Junior loves the shiny cover of this book

Simon Singh, author of the excellent Fermat's Last Theorem, once again provides an accessible account of monumental discoveries in science. This time, he focuses on the field of astronomy, crafting an engaging history of the Big Bang theory, which posits that “everything in the universe exploded into being out of a single point in space” (from Singh's website). The journey takes many centuries and its roads are traveled by countless men and women, and Singh focuses on the pivotal moments and leading personalities to build his story.

A main theme of the book is the scientific method, and Singh predictably discusses Copernicus and Galileo, who used instruments to observe and analyze the heavens. Then he looks into Tycho Brahe and Kepler in the 16th and 17th centuries, to illustrate how a mathematically correct model gained acceptance for the sun-centered model of the universe. He recounts Einstein's retraction of the cosmic constant, a number "fudged" by the great physicist to fit his general theory of relativity within the dogmatic framework of an eternal universe -- not a good science move, ehrmagerd. In latter chapters, Singh recounts the conflict between advocates of the Big Bang model and the proponents of the Steady State model, using the Big Bang’s victory to underline that the theory with the stronger evidence wins, eventually.

Another theme is chance, which is most apparent in the sections where Singh describes the rise of radio astronomy, as well as the discovery of cosmic background radiation in the 1960s, decades after it was first predicted. Logical leaps are also featured, such as Henrietta Leavitt’s realization that Cepheid stars can be used as galactic yardsticks. There was also a man who barged into someone else’s lab and was all, “You guys, I need to find a thing with a specific wavelength that I calculated in my head, help me out?”

Anyway, Singh’s narrative has it all: scientific rebellion, paradigm shifts, professional and personal animosities, and of course, math – I’m going to be honest, it’s the sexiest science book I’ve read so far. His mention of Calvin and Hobbes alone should be enough for readers interested in science, philosophy, and cosmic history.

My only beef with the book are the summary tables and the chapter end notes, which are possibly for students? I skipped them because the tables oversimplified how theories prove themselves valid, and the end notes were written in a notebook-y font, with drawings and diagrams presumably for readers with reading comprehension problems. I think they undermine the rich and complex content that preceded them.

(removes Pretentious Glasses)

TL;DR: Simon Singh Says: Science is Sexy!

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Monday, September 29, 2014

Book review: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (2011)

My dad sent me this book "for entertainment purposes only." It's an easy read, and offers insight into the motivations behind adherents of the so-called "Chinese-style" parenting, which prioritizes high academic achievement and unquestioning obedience of authority. This is in contrast to the "Western style," which aims to inculcate independence and high self-esteem.

Author Amy Chua is quick to point out that her sweeping generalizations also include parents of other ethnic groups, and, caveat outlined, proceeds to describe her personal journey of raising her kids Chinese-style virtually alone against the monolith of Western-style influences. It's a tongue-in-cheek novel, which a lot of people missed, judging from the shrieks of horror that resounded online after its publication.

Chua's style is strict and partly based upon her fear of generational decline. Since her daughters are third-generation, she thinks they're at risk for being spoiled and decadent, with no appreciation for the hard work that allowed their parents and immigrant grandparents to be so successful. Chua focuses on her use of classical music to drill home her expectations of excellence in her offspring. She hounds Sophie (piano) and Lulu (violin) to practice their instruments until they win competitions and/or world-famous teachers take notice and offer to train them. She's so hardcore that she learns music theory and writes up detailed notes for each practice session; drives her kids for hours to their teachers; and makes them practice while on family vacations. Tiger Mom admits that it's miserable for everyone, especially the headstrong Lulu, who eventually forces her unyielding mother to bend.

Chua's fanatical style of raising her two girls comes as no surprise--back in Manila, I had a classmate whose Taiwanese immigrant mom rubbed red-hot chilis in her teeth as punishment when she didn't get top marks. This same classmate also got up early to help her parents make various delicious foodstuffs that her mom and dad then sold in our canteen. So to recap: as a young teen she contributed to the family's livelihood and was also expected to be at the top of the class. Yikes.

Chua doesn't resort to physical punishments--histrionic yelling and verbal abuse are her weapons of choice. She once gave back birthday cards that her kids made for her because they weren't up to her standards. She called them "garbage," used the ol' "You bring shame upon the family!" line, et cetera. In her mind, this is all to motivate them to do better, and demonstrates her confidence in them to boot.

Well...different folks, different strokes, I guess. The main themes amidst all the stress and striving include the different manifestations of maternal love, contrasting ideas of children (their own persons versus extensions of the parents), the price of achievement, the immigrant experience, and academics sure make for interesting parents.

TL; DR: Tiger Moms be crazy, YMMV.

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