Jessica
This book is basically loosely (very loosely) connected by three separate tales–the modern day protagonist dealing with her grandfather's death, the tale of the Tiger's Wife, and the tale of the Deathless Man. I found the Tiger's Wife bits very engaging, but the rest of the novel was very slow and I just couldn't quite get into it. I thought about giving up around the 100-page mark, but then the Tiger's Wife substory began in earnest, and I was intrigued and thought “things will pick up now.” They didn't. But kudos to Obreht (or her editor) for being clever enough to tease more bits every other chapter to keep me plodding through the rest of it. Ultimately I don't feel like my patience was rewarded. I'm left wondering what Obreht's main message really was. She's definitely a talented writer, and there were a few wow moments, but I never quite cared about any of the characters, aside from the Tiger. I'm a bit puzzled at all the critical acclaim this novel has received, but perhaps it falls into the Gabriel Garcia Marquez category for me–authors almost everyone in the world loves but me.
I'm still intrigued by the overall story, but Tris's character really wears on me throughout most of this book. Perhaps I expect too much from my teen heroines, because she probably does act much like any 16-year-old girl would in the same situation. Still, her trust issues really start to grate. I hope she will get over these early in the next book.
Not quite as in-depth as I had hoped, but still a good read. Since I find sleep utterly fascinating, I read a lot of articles about it anyway, and there wasn't much new here for me. But if you're not weird like that, there will be plenty of good info here. I did find the chapter on sleep crime riveting, and was very interested (i.e., disturbed) to learn more about the science (or lack thereof) behind sleeping pills.
I did not enjoy this book as much as Scorpio Races. The premise was very intriguing, but I didn't get as attached to the characters. However, the lower rating is due almost entirely to the ending. It felt rushed and half-assed. After taking nearly half the book to set up the story, when you finally get to the climax, Stiefvater really glosses over everything with a “then a lot happened. . . .” It's very unsatisfying to not have an answer to the mystery at the heart of the novel. I can only imagine this is due to a planned sequel, because why else would you end the book on the sentence she chose? Why else wouldn't you reveal the answer to the mystery, or fill in the gaps between "oh, hey, we awoke the ley line" and “a lot happened after”?
A lovely novel that is part fairy tale, part wilderness survival adventure, part love story, part nature guide. My favorite passage comes very early on:
“All her life she had believed in something more, in the mystery that shape-shifted at the edge of her senses. It was the flutter of moth wings on glass and the promise of river nymphs in the dappled creek beds. It was the smell of oak trees on the summer evening she fell in love, and the way dawn threw itself across the cow pond and turned the water to light.” (page 5)
Anyone who feels the same way as Mabel will enjoy this novel.
An incredibly disturbing and rage-inducing book that should be a must-read for every American citizen. Palast's deep investigative reporting produces facts and solid figures about just how elections are being bought–on both sides of the aisle. He also arms the reader with ample information on how to stop this from happening. Hint: it's definitely not through armchair apathy.
It's not like I didn't already know that ballot banditry was happening and a big problem. But the depths to which it goes, who's behind it all, and WHY, well, that's what's really sick about it all. I like to believe that people are generally good and often do stupid things that they think are in their (and your) best interest. But I can't see how the Ice Man, the Vulture, the Koch brothers, et. al. could possibly be good human beings after reading this treatise.
Read this book before the election. Then send it to all your friends.
An absolutely beautiful book. Any review I could give would not do it justice. It was a captivating love story but more than that, I also felt like I was getting profound guidance and wisdom from a monk or other spiritual healer. I found myself frequently setting down the book to just reflect on passages that blew my mind. I will be thinking about this one for a long time.
I think I would have liked this a lot better if I had read his previous title on the same subject–The Long Emergency. The author currently says things like “I already talked about this in my previous book so I won't say much here,” and yet other topics were way too in-depth. I pretty much skipped chapters 5 and 6. I also feel that Kunstler offers little in the way of suggestions or hope for the future. Though I was very interested in his analysis of architecture, as well as the chapter on the environment.
And for those who thought his two World Made by Hand fiction books were too sexist, he has a nice explanation in the penultimate chapter.
In short, I will probably stick to Kunstler's fiction. I think it does a better job of envisioning what could happen in a post-oil, post-tech America without being too doom and gloom.
I really wanted to love this book, because I love the Decemberists and Colin's beautiful lyrics. And while I completely appreciate the overall message of the book (stewardship of the Earth, not being able to escape the consequences of your own actions, how those actions can have ripple effects on the world around you, the heartbreak in imposing our own moral order on an indifferent universe), I just couldn't quite attach to the characters and the story fell flat for me. I also had a hard time suspending my disbelief throughout most of the tale, which is not usually a problem at all for me!
An interesting read. At times, I felt I was reading a script for Big Love (though Golden is a much more sympathetic figure than Bill ever was). Yet other times the story would veer in an unexpected direction and feel like something entirely new. About halfway through, I became way less interested in Golden and preferred the chapters that focused on Rusty or Trish. Rusty is a total ass, sure, but he also produced the most laughs. Though can we talk about the Rusty hand-job thing for a minute? EWWWW. So not necessary and left me liking Trish a whole lot less, someone I was actually rooting for most of the book. And by the end, I'd have to say the characters on the margins–Hulia, Nestor, June–were the most interesting to me and I wish they had been fleshed out more.
Through deceptively simple drawings and a cast of animal characters, mainly finches, Nilsen's almost-fable explores all the heavy themes: faith, fate, one's place in the world, the meaning of it all. I found it to be both an uplifting exploration of the interconnectedness of all beings and a melancholy tale of existential angst.
I can't believe I waited so long to read this, the sort of sequel to Graceling. I was initially very disappointed when I found out that Katsa was not a character in this book, and it put me off for a long time. Such silliness. This book is every bit as good and engaging as Graceling was, though it takes place in a different kingdom and has only one (very interesting) character in common. I look forward to reading the third book.
Not quite as in-depth as other titles I've read. The books of Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson go much further. Still, I appreciate that the author was trying to make a difficult subject (difficult in that many people still don't think animals have intelligence or emotions, or they don't want to think so because of the implications) more approachable. The photographs are beautiful and engaging.
A beautiful book. Some sentences I read three or four times because the wording was so elegant. I really can't summarize this book any better than Amiee Bender did when she said “The Age of Miracles spins its glowing magic through incredibly lucid and honest prose, giving equal care and dignity to the small spheres and the large. It is at once a love letter to the world as we know it and an elegy.”
This is a, well, fair portrayal of the woes facing our current food system. It offers a wealth of practical information on how to best ensure our food system is fair. And while being a conscious consumer is a good thing, the author advocates we become involved citizens as well, as just opting out of the system and tending our own backyard gardens, while admirable, will not solve ensure food equity for all.
I think the topic is super interesting, and the people and projects profiled in the book were fascinating. And ultimately, I even think the author's overall message is a good one. But I was constantly distracted by his personal asides. It was like he really wanted an outlet for everything he had been through in his own underground journey. Which is fine, but he should have devoted a chapter to his story, rather than interjecting pieces of it in everyone else's. At times this just felt like an ego trip.
I had a hard time getting into this one at first, because it was so overtly religious. I know that Brooks is just being true to her 17th-century Puritan character, but it was off-putting at first, along with the ignorance of the time. Pretty soon, though, I was drawn into Bethia's world and had a hard time putting the book down thereafter.
A very sobering look at the way our nation eats, and how it gets its food. I knew a lot of this stuff already, but McMillan goes into much greater depth since while doing her research she actually lived the life of a migrant farm worker, Walmart employee, and Applebee's employee. It becomes clearer every day that our nation's food system is a house of cards just waiting to fall down. . . . McMillan's book is a very important read in this genre.
