Phyllis

Why I would pick up a book that claims to be the next “Gone Girl,” which I read, but thought was just okay, is beyond me. Mind you, I didn't specifically choose “Under the Harrow” for that reason; it seemed like a nice break from some slightly heavier stuff I brought home from the library. It was only after I got the book home that I noticed the comparison.

Indeed, it is lighter, not only in heft, but also in content. There is nothing inherently good or bad about the length of a book as a sole characteristic, but I applaud the short length in this case because I wasn't stuck with Nora for more than a few hundred pages.

We are supposed to think we have an unreliable narrator. What we have instead is a boring narrator, who goes about stalking people and getting in the way of police investigations, and not in that endearing way we often see on BBC mysteries. The twist, such as it is, wasn't interesting and I wished that some other culprit had been at the heart of this meandering, choppily written book. On to the next!

Wow, how have I not read Jacqueline Woodson before? She is an incredible talented writer and this short work of fiction packs a punch couched in her poetic language.

This is more than a coming of age novel, although every line about the three girls she wishes to be like and who eventually become close friends resonates. The extreme pleasures and tortures of leaving childhood and entering womanhood are so beautifully drawn.

Beyond that is also the story of a young girl, who is uprooted from her Tennessee home, her family fractured, and how she learns to accept her new reality. A reality which she truly wishes to accept and not accept with the fear that accepting things as they are will wash away her memories.

I heard an interview with Emma Straub on Fresh Airanf it was only then that I realized she was the daughter of famous horror author, Peter Straub. Emma Straub mentioned being inspired to write the book after her father had done serious health issues and that made her take stock of their relationship. It was a really touching interview, which I'm not doing justice.

However, I didn't make it far in the book. The characters weren't holding my attention. It may be that I've read or am reading so many really great books lately that this one couldn't stack up. At some point, I may try again because I didn't get to the bits inspired by her father's illness.

Why this book is getting so much hype, I can't say. Maybe it's because some Americans want an explanation for changes in the Midwestern political landscape or what might be driving the opioid epidemic and think J.D. Vance's memoir provides answers.

Instead, this book is the author's argument against social welfare. The author is ultimately financially successful despite a family is riddled with (what looks like) mental illness, violence, and addiction, amongst other issues (all of these things equated with being a hillbilly). Vance chalks his upward trajectory up to his own initiative and idolizing the apparent support of grandparents who are either alcoholic or extremely violent (lighting another person on fire isn't the most exemplary behavior). Granted, his grandparents embarked on being parents at the extremely young ages of 13 and 17 and came from a history of the same. Were his grandparents better than his mother? Sure, for him, but clearly not for his mother, aunt, and uncle. Is that saying a lot? No. And is all of that hillbilly? No.

It was interesting to hear about the other post-WW2 migration: that of whites of lower economic status moving into the Rust Belt, then teeming with post-war upward mobility. I'd rather have read more about that.

This book, which is more of a 2.6 star read, would have benefited from an editor. Initially, I found “We Are Not Such Things” an engaging book, from the breakdown of events surrounding the murder of a young American woman to her parents' reconciliation with her murderers to how the apartheid and post-apartheid situation in created conditions ripe for her murder.

But, about halfway through, the author started to meander and rehash issues already discussed earlier in the novel. What really got to me was a section detailing every moment of one of the now-freed killer's romantic drama with a girlfriend. From there, I ended up skimming, even through the section of the second investigation related to Amy Biehl's murder. This type of digression occurs more and more frequently as the book progresses. While daily life and some personal details certainly help an audience not familiar with such things in South Africa feel like they're there, it can get overwhelming. And, frankly, I was surprised that the author went into the townships alone after pointing out how the very activity that put Amy Biehl into mortal danger was still not terribly wise.

I do think Ms. Van der Leun is a talented writer and would read another book of hers, but you must go into this one knowing it's going to get draggy. What's interesting about the book is the multiple points of view and an attempt to reconcile why someone might go to jail for a crime they didn't commit, but, instead, go to jail for a crime they did commit that few people knew about.

The first few chapters of “Homegoing” were really interesting and entertained in a way that drew me into the book.

And, then followed chapter after chapter of two half-sisters' descendants, many of whom made such brief appearances that I could not remember them or became interesting a few pages into a chapter only to disappear. I wonder if the author wrote various disparate short stories and decided to connect them into a multi-generational, multi-continent novel? That is certainly the feel of the book.

Ms. Gyasi is a talented writer and I'd be interested to see what she could do with a book that focuses on more-fully fleshing our a few major characters, which I think she could do quite well.

Seamus Haney's translation of “Beowulf” is really well done. He manages to retain the feel and atmosphere of the seafaring monster-slayer's time with the choice of unusual or ancient words without strain too far from the original story. The author includes alliteration, a common technique that was coming in the original material and was helpful to a scop, or traveling bard, who would have regaled listeners with this classic tale.

How many technical writers have horror/fantasy/dystopian novels knocking around their brains? One is most certainly Scott Hawkins. This book is a wild ride for sure. And some of that ride is so horrific that you have to have a strong stomach to keep going. That's all I want to say about the tightly-crafted plot because the less you know going in, the better.

The idea behind the book club and hearing stories about each of the men who participated are what qualify this book to receive two stars, in my opinion.

However, the author, despite having a PH.D. and years of teaching experience, is the absolute wrong person to be running a book club for prisoners.

A good leader Mikita Brottman is not, not just for being completely unaware (and unwilling to learn) about the conditions in which her book club members live, waiting nearly 3 years to tour the prison.

Her selections are outrageously insensitive; every selection is about being imprisoned literally or figuratively from “On the Yard” to “The Metamorphosis” to “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” Sure, have a selection or two with that theme, but one after the other? A good leader would switch up the themes or types of selections.

A good leader would understand that each member relates to the material differently and certainly from personal frames of reference. Some of the book club members weren't voracious readers, but bravely took up each challenge.

A good leader wouldn't expect other book club members to struggle with material that the leader disliked at first and/or also struggles with. Hitting the group with “Heart of Darkness” right out of the gate is crazy; despite being short, it's densely packed and rather difficult.

A good leader from outside the prison would understand that there are boundaries that must be set and maintained, particularly as a psychoanalyst. Ms. Brottman spends some time talking about how she objectifies the men's bodies and projects certain expectations on them, then expects the men to conform to her wishes. How about maintaining boundaries after the prisoners have completed their sentences?!?

A good leader would not act put upon because she cannot bring her dog to prison.

A good leader would not expect a book club to change members' lives when part of the appeal is that the club is lead by a woman and another part is trying something different. The author ends the book feeling sorry for herself and whining that all she has is literature.

Stick with this book; there are some amazing insights to be found.

Between 1/3 and 1/2 of the way through, the pacing changed and the author seemed to take more detours before arriving back at the narrative. While some reviewers dinged the author for including seemingly off-topic information, I realized at the end that Mr. Dittrich had been extremely open about his investigation into Patient H.M., his family, and the ways memory does and does not function; the book is a chronicle of that investigation. Perhaps some editing may have been in order, but some of Mr. Dittrich's observations may have been dulled. With that said, I found Mr. Dittrich's writing to be clear and understandable.

Henry Molaison, known to the scientific community as Patient H. M., is an interesting man with an above average IQ, no mental illness, and who lives in the moment. Some of the most poignant moments in the book are the transcripts from researcher's interviews with Henry. There are even moments where he knows that he can't remember things, but could at one time.

When questioned about career aspirations, Henry mentioned wanting be a brain surgeon. But, what if his glasses got smeared and his hand skipped? This exchange shows up a few times during interviews, making one wonder if his concern was a memory. Henry was conscious during his lobotomy, and we don't learn until well into the book that Henry had a lesion in his frontal temporal lobes which appeared to be man made and not part of Dr. Scoville's plan, most likely occurring during the lobotomy.

Yet, the researchers lead by Suzanne Corkin had Henry sign consent forms for 12 years with no guardian, which is disturbing in that he was unlikely to remember instructions or explanations about an experiment minutes into the process. Then Corkin's team pulled in Henry's landlady's son as conservator to sign consent forms with no attempt to contact any of Henry's living cousins to step into the role. It is here that the courts failed Henry, although the blame is ultimately on Corkin, who did not provide accurate information in the filing. Henry was never paid, unlike most research subjects, for all of the time he spent being studied. And, after his death, Corkin simply shredded materials about decades of research, which is unusual and likely unethical. Henry's conservator also bequeaths Henry's brain to MIT

Like “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks,” this book calls into question the use of a research subject's biological and personal data without disclosing how the data will be used and with no financial benefit for the subject.

Beyond Patient H.M., Mr. Dittrich delves into his grandparents' intertwined history, from case notes from the “treatments” (shock therapy, hypothermia sessions, etc.) to whether or not his grandmother received a lobotomy by his grandfather so she would become less of a problem following what appear to be schizophrenic episodes. However, Mr. Dittrich is never able to find an answer to his grandmother's actual diagnosis nor to whether she had any sort of lobotomy. It is in the family history explanations that the author does his utmost to be transparent with what really happened (as far as he can determine).

I listened to the audiobook version narrated by George Newbern, who I remember from “Father of the Bride” and “Adventures in Babysitting). He has a nice narrating style that fits well with the voice of the author and especially with Henry Molaison's voice.

For that reason, I cannot reproduce a few paragraphs at the end of the last chapter (before the Epilogue). But, it was so affecting that I went back and listened to it three times.

The second person POV sections for Essun didn't work as well for me in this sequel to “The Fifth Season.” In fact, it was distracting and confusing, probably on purpose. I also found Essun to be a bit dull and somewhat stupid in this one with far too much relying Alabaster's character pushing the story along; some of the information sections were convoluted and still don't Vick fit me days after finishing the book. Some of the backstory on Jija and Schaffa was compelling. With that said, I'm interested in the conclusion to the trilogy.

I recently watched the movie version of “The Wild Robot” and loved the wonderful story and amazing visual art. It was a no brainer to put the book on hold at the library.

The story is incredibly touching and would be great to read to younger kids in addition to being fun to read alone. The artwork is delightful! And I cried at least twice, even though I knew the story. Highly recommend!

This extraordinary memoir came out a few years ago and kept coming up on best-of lists. Yet, every time I heard the description, I thought to myself, why do I want to read something so depressing?

Judging a book by its cover, I know. While perusing non-fiction audiobook selections a week ago, I saw this title and thought, just read it already!!

And I was pleasantly surprised. This wasn't a book that got pity acclaim only, but deservedly earned respect for being well-written and truly open.

Knowing the end of the story made it harder to listen to passages describing how long he ignored symptoms or attributed them to a grueling work schedule, especially as someone who has done just that (although my diagnosis is different). The author's writing is lovely and is a clear product not only of his intelligence, but also his love of reading.

This is a nice book and may appeal to those while looked “A Man Called Ove.”

Ona is a wonderful character and I really enjoyed her stories and memories of her youth and middle age. The boy, whose name we never learn, and his father are enriched immeasurably by developing friendships with her. The last five pages were unexpected and were a great ending to the book

The reason I knocked this book down a star was Belle. There's no question it's hard to lose a young child suddenly, but her characterization was flat and rude. She wasn't unlikeable because she was sad; she was unlikeable because she was selfish and her entire goal was to punish her ex-husband for the death of her child. The car trip she invites herself on is also a super weak part of the plot. Did she really love or want to marry Ted Ledbetter? No, I suggest that she “decided” to get married on that trip and asked her ex-husband as yet another sadistic act. Yet, I believe the author wants us to feel sorry for her. Nope! I honestly wish the author had left her character mostly out.

Within the first few pages, the odd writing style turned me off. Sentences are confusedly structured, such as “She was tall, broad through the shoulders for a woman, but her hips were narrow.” But? It should be and in this case.

The example may seem nit-picky, but within the first 10 pages, little oddities kept leaping out at me, enough that I found myself exasperated and bored all at once.

Small towns and the Midwest are not only populated by drunks and deadbeats, which is the lens “The Flood Girls” has on. Perhaps, if the writing was better or the characters interesting, I'd continue with the book.

At first, I thought I had come across an author whose work I could really dig into. Mr. Pamuk certainly has a gift for language and describing scenes. But, the main character, Mevlut, merely trudges from one thing to the next, never learning anything. Never.

I know our lives are paragraphs and pages of the same day-in, day-out tasks. There is no vacation for boza and yogurt sellers who go up and down residential streets from morning until late in the night. There was some involvement in political upheaval and controversy over some letters, but for 18 CDs (I wouldn't have completed the book if I hadn't listened to it on my daily commute)?!?

Truly, if this book has been edited to about half of its size, it could have been great. But, instead, it just goes on and on.

Poor Maisie Dobbs. A woman who once climbed many figurative mountains now flits around foreign countries really messing up intrigues. She's not able to retain a disguise or manage anything undercover (what undercover agent leaves her actual passport laying around her hotel room?). She doesn't seem to pay attention to what is going on around her and is constantly being “found” by various agents on both sides. There are also far too many coincidences for my taste!

And she will not stop going on about James and her lost baby; that may sound cruel and harsh, but this character didn't care for James until after he was killed in a flying accident. Since that rather sloppily-done bit of off-book drama, we have to listen to constant pining after someone Maisie really didn't love. Of course, Billy and Sandra are magically available and ready to work as soon as Maisie returns. Perhaps the publisher realized that Maisie clearly cannot manage any investigating on her own? I really ought to stop with the series at this point as it is outrageously silly.

“Lab Girl” is an interesting memoir, interspersed with descriptions of various science wonders, which dovetail to developments in the author's life. Hope Jahren is a talented writer, who is able to tie many insights from science and get life together. Yet, I never really was drawn in. There was nothing forced or fake about the book, so it may be that I have too much on my plate at the moment. At some point, I plan to take another pass at this book when things have calmed down.

I was listening to an old New York Times Book Review podcast today and this book was featured along with an interview with the author.

Full disclosure: I have not read this book and frankly, won't. One of his main points is that conservatives' treatment of the poor is misunderstood. In other words, conservatives want to help the poor, but they just don't use the right words. Interesting. I guess Mr. Brooks just ignores vote after vote at all levels of government by Republicans against policies supporting the poor. He also states in this interview

Also, he claims that 70% of the Federal budget on Medicare. How is that possible when 2015 spending on Medicare and health was .02% of the total budget? This is the typical lie that conservatives promote that so-called “entitlements” are bleeding the country dry, while completely ignoring bloated military spending. Most “entitlements” are supported by contributions from employees and employers (or single proprietors).

So, no interest in reading a bunch of lies I've heard elsewhere.

One interesting fact: the author was previously a professional French horn player. He should stick to music.

“Listen Liberal” is neither well-written nor well-justified. At one point, the author claims that he timed out while listening to one of the Democratic presidents he excoriates.

Below, I'm going to point out numerous problems with the author's logic.

Frank spends much of the beginning of his diatribe equating professionalism with neoliberalism and privatization. Yet, is it not the Republican Party pushing privatization/corporatization of public institutions? On p. 89, the author states “But, among people with professional degrees - which is to say, the liberal class...”. Um, what? The author completely ignores all of the conservative people who have degrees or are professional who certainly don't consider themselves liberal. Later, the author claims that professionals admire complexity and complexity was the key to the financial crisis, therefore professionals=financial crisis. How is that liberal, specifically? The reasoning simply isn't there!

Frank also states that professional liberals do not support unions or income equality. That the well-educated believe in a meritocracy, which ignores the working class family who can't make it on minimum wage. How is this a liberal idea? Is it not the Democrats who are fighting for minimum wage increases?

The book disparages education initiatives assuming that all education is about going to college. Basic education is a right for all children, yet many children do not receive-education includes vocational training and retraining, which is important when vast sections of the country undergo industry expansion and contraction.

I was particularly offended by the statement on p. 37 the entire accounting profession is people by the ineffectual & corrupt.

Frank compares FDR's cabinet's lack of degrees to Obama's to show the former was better. Yet, the rate at which people earn degrees is very different 70-80 years ago.

Right before I decided to put the book down, the author goes on to say how bad NAFTA is for Mexico and US job losses, but does not mention the movement of manufacturing to China just a few years after NAFTA was enacted. I'm not arguing for free trade, but, show he entire picture if you're going to discuss a topic.

This book is written like an angry blog with little logic or research behind it. As much as I'd like to understand viewpoints of those who have different political ideologies, this is not a useful resource.

This book is a total waste of time. It could have been a fun “High Fidelity” with time travel romp, but it was just plain boring. The characters were unlikeable, which isn't always an issue, but there was nothing to latch onto. People went around talking about songs here or there, but it seemed disingenuous. I Eason the mood for a good time travel book and this did not do the trick!!!

One aspect of feminism involves knowing that you belong (or that you ought to belong), but having doors close to you because of your gender. Rhys interweaves weaves this theme through the short novel with the brutality, racism, and segregation of colonialism.

From this framework, Jean Rhys's colorful, hazy, and somewhat trippy prequel shows us the formative years of Antoinette Cosway (the woman gentle readers know as Bertha Rochester in Charlotte Bronte's “Jane Eyre”). We see a fragile young girl raised by a beautiful, but insensitive, mother in poverty on what was once a thriving plantation in the Caribbean. After losing her home, her son, and a pet parrot in a terrible fire, Antoinette's mother descends into madness fueled by “caretakers” who ply her with alcohol and appear to abuse her physically and sexually.

The specter of generational mental instability is hidden from the young man (unnamed, but most certainly Edward Rochester) Antoinette is suddenly married to. Although he finds her beautiful, he never tried to understand her. Instead he turns his back on her, behaving cruelly to her. Even before he takes her to England across the Sargasso Sea, away from the people and places she loves, he has imprisoned her mentally and emotionally.

Would someone who has not read “Jane Eyre” enjoy or understand this book? It is quite possible! I've read “JE” at least 10 times and find this back story of a woman who is depicted in that novel as close to a wild animal absolutely fascinating. One can see how a mental break followed by the inability of people of that time to provide treatment could leave to the sad state we find Bertha Mason Rochester in.

“Every Heart Is a Doorway” really has a great premise, but was lacking in execution.

As I am attempting to hit my target count of books read for 2020, I am focusing on works under 200 pages until I hit my goal. Using this criteria, the author's strengths really come through (or doesn't) with such a short medium.

Oh, Mr. Bryson, please don't take up projects solely because your publisher wants you to make a buck! It is very clear that your heart was not in this one, which seems like a product from an entirely different author than “Notes from a Small Island,” this travelogue's predecessor. I know 20 years have elapsed, but isn't anything charming to you on that small island?

Observing that there are stylish (a word overused in this book!) cafes and shops are not all there are to towns. Mr. Bryson observes that the best way to understand a place is to talk to locals. The one time he does this, he learns more about the town and enjoys his visit more. Having finished “The Accidental Tourist” (about a travel writer who provides travel advice about ways to not experience that country's offerings) just after this book, I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Bryson is heading that direction? Barely any space was dedicated to Scotland, which I found to be people with interesting, friendly folk, gorgeous, and full of amazing sights/sites. Come now, sir!

Overall, Mr. Bryson whinges on and on about the prevalence of wheely bins and paved over gardens, as well as going on for pages and pages about poor punctuation and grammar. And he does so with a prevalence of references incomprehensible to this American, despite being an Anglophile. I certainly don't mind a bit of cantankerousnes, but it felt overwhelming in this instance. Frankly, if I weren't listening to the audiobook version, I don't think I would have finished. It pains me to be so harsh on Mr. Bryson, because I've enjoyed a number of his charming titles.

My favorite section, in which the author visits the Lake District, reminded me that I must go again. But where was Little Dribbling? If it's to be referenced in the title, then at least stop off for a cream tea!


Ah, well, I hope that Mr. Bryson finds a topic that brings more joy to his person so that he may write more delightful books.

Even the few pages I read were a slog. From the beginning, Kingsolver preaches things that I somewhat agree with. However, planting and harvesting my own food would be impossible in my yard and in Chicago winters. Farming your own food isn't necessarily the best option, as Kingsolver states. Anyway, I felt a sense of relief when I dropped this book back off at the library today!