Valerie

I got this as a first reads right before I moved and it sat in my old house for a year, but I finally got around to reading it. Tyson is a good writer even if he's a bit smug sometimes. But he's also smug in a way I generally agree with, so overall I enjoyed the volume. I think I was hoping for a bit more "cosmic" from the title when the key word is actually "perspective." He does a wonderful job of parsing higher level statistical thinking for a lay audience. Sadly, I'm not the person who needs to read this book, and most of the people who do need to read it, won't. But if you want to hear Tyson's voice in your head narrating thoughtful essays on humans and their place on earth and in the cosmos, it's worth a read.

This book is something I want to give to pretty much every woman in my life. I read it as part of a professional development unit, looking at how shame might be affecting my students, but Brown's primary focus is on how shame affects women. She is thorough, insightful, and page after page builds relatable stories that help the reader identify how shame has been motivating their choices or lack thereof. She also offers several tips for building shame resilience to help women recover from shaming experiences. These strategies align with the growth mindset theory I read for my last class, focusing on strengths and positive change instead of dwelling on weakness and self-doubt. Her strategies do not sound particularly easy, but they do feel sound.

When I think about this book in regards to being an educator, it makes me think about the language I use around my students, especially when I am at peak frustration. It makes me consider how I can talk to them to make them feel guilty about their actions without feeling ashamed of themselves. While again, the focus of this book is on the culture of shame specifically surrounding western women, the ideas are really applicable to lots of different people. It's a great read, and one I hope lots of people will absorb.

I can't remember if I read this or not as a child, though with how much I loved the films, it's probably a safe bet. Reading it as an adult, I found myself looking for metaphors and reading it as a kind of exploration of childhood grief and depression. Bastian loses his mother literally and his father figuratively, and seeks shelter in Fantástica where he vicariously defeats the Swamps of Sadness, the Oracles, and the Nothing at great cost. Then he loses himself in his own escape, drives away those who love him, and forgets even his own sense of self. That preservation of self and memory is such a strong, resonant theme challenged again and again by various monsters and ephemera. It's really a beautiful book, and while the first film does justice to the first half, the second is well worth exploring, especially as an adult.

I've had this book on my to-read list for sometime and finally stumbled across a copy. It has some interesting ideas even if I think the suggestions for what to do with them are somewhat naive. The basic thesis is that if we assume there isn't actually a god, why did humans invent religion anyway? Lots of reasons, and those reasons are still very valid ones from an atheistic perspective. De Botton goes beyond the traditional arguments of “community-building” to talk about religion's influence on art, architecture, perspective, kindness, and many other topics.

What I really enjoy about de Botton's writing is that he's able to speak about atheism without being snarky or derogatory. Too many books about atheism treat religious or spiritual people like idiots and end up just making fun of them. De Botton says that while he disagrees with their central idea, the fact that religions are the foundation of most human cultures means they are doing something right. There is a way to take religion into the modern world that will benefit everyone no matter what they believe in. De Botton confines his study to Christianity, Judaism, and Buddhism, but I definitely was able to see parallels with Shinto and Paganism as well.

Oddly enough, I found myself thinking that a lot of the basic spiritual needs De Botton speaks of are being met for a lot of people these days through fandom. This could be just one nerd's hypothesis, but the community, the connectivity, the symbolism and ceremony that surround the modern fan experience are an oddly secular religion. Something to think about for sure. De Botton's ideas on how to create this secular “church” are a bit pie in the sky for me (at least as applied to the Western world), but they provide a starting spot for personal reflection and for the needs people often deny after rejecting the idea of God.

Atheists and Religious people alike could easily read and enjoy this book. It reads extremely fast, has a good sense of humor, and gives you a great deal to think about.

You can find my review of this as part of my review for the eBook Elric collection under [b:Elric of Melniboné 30036 Elric of Melniboné (The Elric Saga, #1) Michael Moorcock https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1388345555l/30036.SY75.jpg 388812]

My end feeling was this is that the author really wanted to see this movie. Honestly, I would probably like to see this movie. With a talented cast that could breathe life into the characters and some special effects, this could be really fun. Bisexual Han Solo? Let's do this! And maybe the sloppy time travel would not bother me as much as it does if the acting was good enough.

As a novel though, it's a little uninspiring. The writing never really dragged me in. The time travel did bother me a ton, and I never really bonded with any characters. I like a light space opera, but this was maybe a little too light for me.

I haven't read this since college, and I'd forgotten just how good it is. The style just wraps around me like a warm blankie. I find I can identify a lot more with Bilbo as I get older, and I love watching his growth as a character and a burglar. Say what you will about Eagles and deux ex machinas, I love this book and always will.

This is my second experience with this book, and it really stands up to a reread. The writing is gripping, the characters have incredible depth, and it's such a bizarre story that the reread helps it make a bit of sense. It doesn't resonate with me the way a five star book does, but it did keep me turning pages even when I knew what was going to happen.

That said, it is one of the most violent and gory books that I've enjoyed, so if that is an issue for you, you should skip this. If you like a bloody, epic, world-bending fantasy that's grounded in what it means to be human and also what it means to be lion, though, this is not one to miss.

I should preface this review by saying that A) it is my first exposure to Heinlein and B) I am only slightly more knowledgeable about international politics than a reclusive hobbit. That said, this book was on my list and I am rather compulsive about lists, so here goes.

The book is pretty dated from the start. I found it pretty adorable when Mannie initially asks Mike to print-out all of those documents. Hi, 1966. How ya doing? That dated sense bleeds into a lot of the social aspects of the book too, particularly the role of women, but that's a risk any science fiction author takes when setting a book in the not too distant future. It jarred me out of the story a bit, but not to a level that depreciated my enjoyment.

A podcast I follow said you could really approach this book from one of two ways: as a political book and as a science fiction book. The political aspects are massive and, to me at least, pretty unbelievable. The character of Professor Bernardo de la Paz is essentially infallible and for some reason always has exactly the right answer to the situation, never losing control of his plan. The other characters (Mike excepted) serve only to ask the leading questions that allow Prof to cement his points. I was reminded somewhat of the Foundation Trilogy by some parts. Prof seemed like a high-speed Hari Seldon. Seldon, however, is a more believable prophet, because his plans are interrupted by complications. Prof's plans always go smoothly if not without sacrifice.

Politics isn't a territory I'm competent discussing though and was the least interesting part of the book for me. I definitely approached the novel from a science fiction perspective, and there I found a number of things to enjoy. First and foremost among these was Mike. Looking at Heinlein's 1966 conception of a supercomputer and comparing it with artificial intelligence levels today is really fascinating. Again, ignoring technology advances Heinlein couldn't have foreseen, Mike is a genuine character from the start and evolves as much (and frequently more) than other characters. We watch him experiment with humor, emotion, and at the end he even adopts a Loonie speech pattern or two. It's sort of an AI coming of age story. He's quite an enormous cheat (and takes a lot of the fun out of conspiracy when one of your conspirators is basically a god), but he's a fun cheat to watch.

I love the way Mike gives equal importance to understanding humor and plotting revolution. I love that Mike develops different personae and preferences for each one. I like the relationship between Mike and Mannie, and the way that Mannie accepts Mike as intelligent and even emotional based on their interactions.

The only other aspect of the book that really intrigued me was Heinlein's description of life on Luna. It does seem possible that the moon would become the next colonial Australia and have a similar development track (minus indigenous populations). I still can't say I fully understand how a line marriage works, but hey, if it becomes a socially embedded construct, it might fly. All of the rules on Luna are socially embedded constructs really. You play nice or you die. There's no leeway.

The other aspects of the book didn't do much for me. The characters were pretty flat, and I have strong issues with how Heinlein treats the “fems.” I didn't care about anyone besides Mike. I was bogged down in the political dialogues more than once and found myself pushing to get to some actual action. There's food for thought in the politics, but I'm not really up to dissecting it. Also, I don't think you can separate the politics from the surreal setting to apply it on modern earth.

Overall, it's a book I'm glad I read, but I doubt I'd read it again. It's probably a lot more interesting to the politically-minded, so if that's you, give it a shot.

I had been waiting so long for this book. So very long. I remember last year finishing The Fifth Season on the day I both finished Ash vs. The Evil Dead” and saw Star Wars, and thinking that it just wasn't my day for satisfying endings. Obelisk Gate is still not a satisfying ending, of course (part 2), but that isn't really a problem when the story is so damn good I'll be upset when there actually is an ending.

The world expands in this novel as we learn more about Guardians, how orogeny works, Stone Eaters, and what the heck is up with the Moon. We also learn exactly who is narrating all these second person chapters, aking all the haters realize there WAS a good reason for using second person after all. Additionally, we start getting Nassun's point of view, and learning all the things that make her a part of and set her apart from her mother. Schaffa too joins our POV list, as NK once again makes me feel a sympathy for characters I never thought possible.

And of course there's a cast of diverse, believable, and unique individuals supporting us. A million points for Tonkee, everyone. One million points.

It's good. Jemisin is really really good and completely deserving of her recent Hugo success. If you read The Fifth Season, you know you can't afford to skip this one. If you haven't read The Fifth Season, what's wrong with you?

I'm a pretty hard-core advocate for drinking the Gaiman Kool-Aid. Basically, if you've met me, I've recommended Gaiman to you. I just don't meet people without in some way referencing what a supremely wonderful author he is.

That said, “Signal to Noise” is much more a Dave McKean piece than a Neil piece, reading more like “Cages” than say “Sandman” or “Murder Mysteries.” There isn't really a hint of the fantastic anywhere in the story. A man learns he is dying and tries to cope with the end of the world. The film he is working on feels like the biggest Gaiman element in the piece. In other words, this is not a book I ever would have picked up from a jacket summary, which just goes to show me how little jacket summaries can be trusted.

Conceptually, the book is beautiful, interjecting randomly generated noise which I can here in my head like so many jumbled radio stations. The art is obviously McKean gorgeous, forcing even a speed reader like me to slow down and take in the expansive pictures. The themes of the book are themes that resonate with my own philosophy: the idea that there is no end of The World, but there are thousands of ends of the world every second for individual people. That's why our society is so obsessed with apocalypses. We all see our own doom looming, and we project it outward to encompass all we can grasp.

It's filled with noise, but the signal still comes through strong, the hallmark of both of these creators.

I'm so happy this book returned to print after such a long absence to give this generation (as far removed from 1989 as I feel from the Vietnam War) a chance to hear its message. In a word where apocalypse is the name of the game in media trends, this story takes a step back and thinks about what that means to a single soul, staring into the void.

Last night, I saw the musical adaptation of this graphic novel, and it was a striking show. They had a t-shirt for sale depicting audience members leaving the theater saying, “That's exactly like my family except completely different.” I think those words speak for the original piece as well. I don't have a lot in common with Alison Bechdel on the surface. I've never struggled sexual identity, obsessive compulsive disorder, or losing a loved one to suicide. Also, I'm a pretty terrible artist. That said, I was still able to strongly identify with her because she highlights a lot of the struggles that we feel are unique but are actually almost universal: depression, not knowing your family as well as you think you do, shame about being the only one, grief, self-doubt. Her story is one of extremes, told in nakedly candid fashion, and that honesty is powerful. I don't think I could ever be as open about the extreme parts of my life as she is in this... and then she let other people adapt it to a musical. She's a pretty incredible woman, and her work is definitely worth reading.

This one has been in the “classics I haven't actually read” pile for a long time, and I'm glad the book club picked it so I had an excuse to read it. Considered the foundation of post-apocalyptic literature, I can see how this story has echoed through the genre's years both in its predictions and its themes.

Canticle for Leibowitz takes place in three parts as civilization rebuilds itself after a nuclear apocalypse. It is told largely from the perspective of a Roman Catholic monastery somewhere in the American Southwest who have taken on the purpose of preserving as much evidence of the previous age as they can through memorizing and smuggling (booklegging) any and all texts. The first part takes place in a very rudimentary society, the second in the beginnings of an industrial revolution, and third in a futuristic world (with magnet-powered self-driving cars that I'd really like) on the verge of repeating the disaster. Thus, the main theme is the cyclical nature of history, and the idea that we are doomed to repeat ourselves. Not a comforting idea in post-WWII years during which Miller wrote this novel. Indeed most of the novel doesn't feel dated at all as the problems faced by the characters are pretty much the same ones that rise up every time a nuclear threat does.

I see how this book earned its place in the literary pantheon, and I definitely think it should be required reading for anyone in a position of power. I don't agree with every point it makes, and honestly the ending with Rachel left me very disturbed, but on the whole I think its importance lives up to the hype.

I don't typically like military SF, but this book reminded me of Ancillary Justice in the best ways. Amazing culture and world-building, thorough characters who keep you guessing, and bonkers technology. I read most of this on a plane which is maybe not ideal because it is so dense and difficult to visualize. Definitely not a book that treats its audience like children. I had to work to understand what was happening, but it didn't feel like work because the characters were so intriguing. Glad I bought the sequel too, but giving my brain a rest before reading it.

This was a really useful book as a white educator in a diverse school. It's a well-researched look at how racism affects development across various developmental stages and life markers and what can be done to mitigate these effects. As a white person, I know a lot of microaggressions and small moments of discrimination go completely over my head, and this book has clear methods of active anti-racist actions that I can take to help combat this. While it is primarily about Black-White relationships, there are also a couple chapters about other people of color and multiracial families that are limited but good starting points here. It's a book for both POC's and allies, and I highly recommend it to educators specifically.

This is one of those very well-written books that was extremely hard for me to get through. I gets compared with Cloud Atlas in the blurb, and that certainly makes sense for the layered structure moving through time (Emily St. John Mandel also comes to mind), but stylistically I think it's a little closer to the short stories of Ted Chiang: deep character development and incredible emotional resonance in 25 pages or less. The through-line of the book is death: how we deal with death while living on a dying planet. A LOT of that death is parents grieving children, which is just not something I'm emotionally up for at this point in my life. It's also a post-COVID plague book (the second or third I've read recently), so those triggers are all there too. Still, I think how affected I felt is a testament to Nagamatsu's writing. It's also nice to have a book that while set all over the world, universe really, often comes back to Japanese characters and settings for a perspective SFF rarely gets.

My only criticism was the last chapter which wrapped things up a little more than I liked in a way that felt a little like we changed subgenres, but this is a minor personal taste thing and I don't think diminishes the work as a whole.

And while it's challenging to read so much about death, I do feel like I came away with a lot to think about. I'd still recommend it if you are okay with the trigger warnings for chronic illness, plague, and child death.

I went to Comic Con last weekend and bought up all the Jeremy Whitley I didn't already own. Yay! This means I finally caught up on Princeless graphic novels. Volume 4 gives us a closer look at Adrienne's non-conformist brother and the ways gender roles can be just as damaging to men as women. It also introduces us to goth-emo sister, Angoisse (pronunciation.... best guess) who tends to wrap her identity in her love life or lack thereof. There are vampires, goblin explorers, and swamp monsters. If you're already reading Princeless, you shouldn't need much more encouragement. It's a delightful series and one I with I had when I was a kid.

I've been reading the Amulet series for ages, and I only wish these came out sooner. I feel like the gaps in between volumes are large enough that I have to go back and remind myself of the whole series every time a new one comes out. First world reader problems again.

That said, Amulet is one of my favorite series to give to my students. It has simple characters going through complex problems and also robots and talking rabbits. The art is beautiufl, and the story is engaging enough that my kids get crazy-excited when I tell them there is a new volume. I've had to replace this series in my class library more than any other, so third grade book kleptomaniacs agree that it is worth risking a referral to obtain.

This is the book I needed right now. I've loved this series a lot since Leviathan Wakes debuted. It used to be because it filled the Firefly-shaped hole in my heart, but the crew of the Rocinante have evolved so much, the scale of the story has expanded so much (see what I did there?), that it has gone far beyond an enjoyable space romp. Now, the story is much more poised as a mirror of what humanity can be at both its best and its worst. We find our favorite crew (plus Clarissa Mao whom I hope gets a bigger role in the next book), caught up in the war that has destroyed Earth, trying to make alliances and save lives wherever we can. We get the return of several characters we haven't seen in many books, Michio Pa and Prax Meng, and watch how their small pieces fit into this large universe. We get to see into the world of terrorist kings and the justification of people who follow them. It's all good. It's just a brilliant series and I can't wait for more.

This collection, curated by my hero of heroes, Neil Gaiman, is extremely diverse and a lovely romp through the decades of fantastic beasts. It contains some of my favorites recollected (Come Lady Death and Sunbird), some authors I love whose works I'd never read (Larry Niven, Diana Wynne Jones), and a bunch of new people about whom I know want to know much more (Nalo Hopkinson, Nnedi Okorafor). My favorites were probably Jones' “The Sage of Theare” and Hopkinson's “The Smile on the Face.” The styles are diverse in content, culture, and style, so the reader never really has a chance to get bored. My only disappointment was that Neil's contribution was “Sunbird,” which is a great story but one I seem to own in so many collections already. Ah well.

The stories are mostly G rated with a couple that get a little darker and towards the YA end of the age spectrum (The Smile on the Face definitely fits in there), but for the most part I think this is enjoyable by lovers of magical creatures of all ages.

I got this book as a freebie a year ago, and I'm a little sad it took me this long to get around to reading it. It's written exclusively as transcripts and journal entries which makes it very fast-paced and suspenseful, keeping a lot of mystery going all through the book. Despite being so sparse with words, Neuvel still develops his characters thoroughly and makes a pretty silly premise into a gripping thriller. Plus, giant robots. I do enjoy giant robots. If you are a fan of World War Z style writing and mecha, you will probably like this series, and I bought the next book right away.

This one was a bit disappointing. I loved Ready Player One in a huge way, and I kind of avoided reading Cline's sophomore effort as I heard it really didn't live up to the previous. Then I got to meet Ernie Cline at a book signing, and I just fell in love with the man. Such a sweet, charming, unabashedly nerdy guy whom I just wanted to support. So I sat down to form my own opinion.

Sadly, I ended up agreeing with the majority. Armada is similar to RPO in that it centers around video games and their application outside being games, in this case the trope of child gamer prodigy asked to use his skills to save the world from impending invasions. Also like RPO, it builds a lot of its humor and plot on nerdy references from a modern protagonist obsessed with 70s, 80s, and 90s science fiction. RPO wove these references in seemlessly and they formed the core of the story. In Armada, they just feel kind of dropped in, kicking me out of the story instead of immersing me.

Also, the characters are a bit flatter. Our hero is a real stop WMP who for some reason girls totally dig. His love interest (who shows up really only as a deux es machina to save the day with HACKING) is inexplicably interested in him despite being older, cooler, and smarter. This would have been a way different book if it was about her or really any of the other top players who are diverse, unique, and interesting (except maybe Chen who has no character besides stock asian genius). Zack is just not very interesting and doesn't have much of a believable character arc.

Not to say the book was all bad. There's a lot of popcorn fun to be had and some good subverting of the alien invasion genre, but I can't help thinking a few changes could have made it a lot better. Sorry, Ernie. I still love you, but I can't quite evangelize this one the way I do RPO.

This is a rare book. I've never heard anything but praise for Nalo Hopkinson, and now it's easy to see why. This book is a trilogy of stories about women of color enslaved, both literally and figuratively, by the worlds around them. The characters are united by the presence of a goddess who is trapped within and between them. If that isn't a perfect image for the struggles faced by women of color today, I'm not sure what is. The stories take place in three time periods and places: Alexandria era Egypt, a Haitian slave plantation just before the slave revolt, and turn of the century Paris. It's hard for me to pick one story over the others as a favorite because all three are intriguing and unique. Jeanne, the Parisian dancing girl, is the one that actually made me burst into tears at one point, so I would say that's the one I connected with most strongly.

It is not a typical fantasy novel, maybe closer to magic realism in tone and form. Chapters are fluid in length and style, pieces of poetry are interwoven into the narrative, and the narrator shifts between humans and goddess within each chapter. Personally, I find the uniqueness and elegance makes it well-worth the challenge of reading. It is occasionally very graphic, sometimes a bit too graphic for me, but that graphicness is never gratuitous. We are living these women's lives as they lived them, exactly. As long as that doesn't drive you away from a story, I'd say The Salt Roads is a necessary book to take up.

A lot of people use the word “epic” when describing books, but very few come as close to the actual meaning of the word as Children of Time. What an incredibly sweeping story with huge emotional range too. It's also features great perspective-bending points of view and while often tense, morose, and critical of us Great Old Ones, the persistent thread of hope woven within keeps the reader turning pages just as the Gilgamesh keeps on flying. Recommended for anyone who loves a really big science fiction story and also is not an arachnophobe. Must love spiders.

I have to wonder what Fiona Staples thinks when she gets her scripts from Vaughan and it says 2 page panel depicting enormous dragon pleasuring itself orally. What is the proper response for that? I just want to be a fly on that wall.

That said, this is the saddest volume of Saga yet. One of my favorite characters dies horrifically and with no warning There's death and angst and sadness and it's just not fair to anyone involved. Will I keep reading it? Of course. It's brilliant, raw storytelling with amazingly beautiful and brutal art. Do I want to punch Brian K. Vaughan in the face? Little bit, yes.