Hilm
I'm giving up at Chapter 7. Overall, it's quite interesting but for some reason (time period, perhaps?) I didn't find myself wanting to continue after having this book for months on my bedside.
DNF at 39%—too woo woo for me, so much that the mystery, the prose and the page turner-y short chapters still failed to compel me to continue. Reading low star reviews hints at a problematic ending that I can do without. I thought I'd have liked it more.
it would be a magnificent one save that the death of the author then gave way to some of its incoherent nature, hence more like a book of several stories that do not have a single frame; on second thought, it is. yet the incompleteness is also a part that enrich The Silmarillion.
aside from that, The Silmarillion provides an introduction for those who are not content with the appendix in the back of LotR: RotK and describe more of what's happening before the Third Age of Middle-Earth, all i can say is all the waiting i had for the book was worthwhile.
Entrok started with a daughter telling her mother of a much-awaited happy news. Despite the happy news, though, you get the sense that something really bad had happened and the daughter blamed herself for her mother's senility. The contradicting atmosphere of her regret piqued my interest enough to keep me continue reading.
And I can't put it down until I finished it two hours later.
The story itself is told alternatingly between the mother (Marni), and the daughter (Rahayu). With a story that encompasses four decades of their lives, it provides ample food for thought with its diverse topics. The topic ranges from marital infidelity and aspiration of moving socially upward, to clashes of theological beliefs and fighting injustice masquerading as march of progress as peddled by an authoritarian regime. Such amazing breadth, without coming across as condescending or preachy.
It was very easy to relate to. With no effort at all Marni made me think of my own mother. Not only because she poured all her efforts to her daughter in hope that her daughter would have had a better living, but also how she was hurt when her only daughter misunderstood her belief.
Aku membenci Ibu. Dia orang berdosa.
Aku membenci Ibu. Kata orang, dia memelihara tuyul.
Aku membenci Ibu, karena dia menyembah leluhur.
Aku malu, Ibu.
“Yang kuasa itu Gusti Allah, Bu. Bukan Mbah Ibu Bumi,” kataku dengan suara keras[.]
“Sampai setua ini, sampai punya anak sebesar kamu, Nduk, aku tidak pernah tahu Gusti Allah. Mbah Ibu Bumi yang selalu membantuku. Mbah Ibu Bumi yang memberiku semua ini. Apanya yang salah?”
Dia bilang aku ini dosa. Dia bilang aku ini sirik. Dia bilang aku penyembah leluhur. Lho.. lha wong aku sejak kecil diajari orangtuaku nyembah leluhur kok tidak boleh.[...] Dia bilang hanya Gusti Allah yang boleh disembah. Lha iya, tapi wong aku tahu Gusti Allah ya baru-baru ini saja. Lha gimana mau nyuwun kalau kenal saja belum.
DNF at 50% after reading reviews here and figured out the pay off for all these build up is not worth it.
A very easy read–conversational, even. Might be a good primer to asexuality for those less steeped in the literature. It made me want to reread [b:Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex 52128695 Ace What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex Angela Chen https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1580804471l/52128695.SX50_SY75.jpg 73599792] to compare the two.(Yes, there's the JKR half-paragraph thing at the end, which is unfortunate. Between this and the many HP references throughout the one podcast episode I tried to listen to (I actually didn't know about the podcast until reading this book)... it is quite cringe and I'd say it would be better for the authors to dial it down.)
Juniper Fitzgerald‘s profile is very interesting. She has a PhD in sociology, but also a mother and a sex worker. She doesn't write much on her degree, other than in glimpses.
P69
It's decidedly not my fault or the fault of any sex worker that sometimes our survival depends on the transformations of men into pigs.
“Do ...do you really have a PhD?” my piggy stutters.
“Yes,” I coo, and roll my eyes. “I really do hold a doctorate.”
What I don't say is that academia necessitates my erotic labor too. What I don't say is that as an evergreen adjunct, my heady labor is far more precarious than the wars of my body. What I don't say is that there will always be far more men looking to be licked with a feminist text than students reeling to read it.
“Wha... what's our lesson today, Mistress?”
Baca buku horor ketika di rumah sendirian itu ngeri-ngeri sedap. Tapi makin sedap dengan:
- bumbu perseteruan kakak adik Louise dan Mark tentang rumah yang diwariskan orang tua mereka yang meninggal mendadak dalam sebuah kecelakaan misterius. Louise hidupnya sukses (lulus kuliah, kerja kerah putih di San Francisco, punya anak satu), Mark hidupnya berantakan (drop out dari BU lol trus kerja serabutan).
- wasiat orang tuanya sebagai kunci perseteruan: wasiat mendiang ayah mewariskan 100% rumah dan harta ke Louise kalau sang ibu meninggal lebih dulu. Wasiat mendiang ibu mewariskan 100% ke Mark kalau sang ayah meninggal lebih dulu.
- campur tangan keluarga besar, macam si sepupu yang bilang ke Louise: rumah orang tua kamu tuh harganya bisa sampai tiga per empat juta dolar. Duit lumayan tuh bisa buat anakmu nanti kuliah Ivy Lig dan ga cuma PTN dekat rumah (state school)
- misteri kematian adiknya ibunya Louise yang meninggal mendadak puluhan tahun silam. Kenapa semua keluarga besar generasi kakek-nenek Louise bersikukuh buat, udah relakan aja itu masa lalu. Ini adalah bagian trope yang paling menyebalkan karena things would get resolved earlier if people just talk?
- koleksi boneka angker. Ibunya Louise produksi boneka (dan taxidermy) buat ngajarin cerita-cerita gereja. Jumlahnya puluhan (ratusan?) berderet memenuhi rak di rumah, yang lalu dia wariskan ke Louise dalam wasiatnya.
Ini sebetulnya baca loncat-loncat karena merinding sendirian di rumah (Boy ga membantu).
great premise (totalitarian/militant islamic rule) and important issues (grassroots opposition) with too-lengthy exposition that doesn't quite work with me. Opened up with a grisly execution of two lovers, part one was exhaustingly dragging. Part two where the main characters (?) finally published the underground journal was more promising (tension! ethical discussion! how much should journalists feel responsible?) but the delivery remains uneven.
This is an enjoyable read: a mystery with an unusual setting (Laos in the 1970s, with the monarchy newly overthrown and the Communist rule was beginning). To me this book has a very strong Nuri Vittachi vibe with its humor, which I like. In my mind I also imagine Dr. Siri Paiboun, the main character to maybe look a little like Vittachi, too.
I was a bit apprehensive picking this up when I looked around what books my library has that is set in various Southeast Asian nations/written by SEA writers. I was apprehensive because this was not written by a Laotian, but a white guy, and I didn't like the last fiction set in Thailand I read which was written a white guy, but this seems short enough. I'm still glad I picked it up, but I'll probably need to read a Laotian writer sometime in the future to have a richer sense of Laos.
Some memorable bits:
“You people are never short of receptions, are you?”“That's why it's called the Communist ‘Party,' and not the Communist ‘sit down and get some work done'.”
The Thais were devastated that evil communists had moved in next door, in Laos. Siri loved to listen to their broadcasts. ... He'd listened to “expert”commentaries on the Reds' inborn taste for wife-sharing, an infirmity that caused such confusion in their society that “incest was inevitable”. How communism had led to a dramatic increase in two-headed births he was uncertain, but Thai radio had the figures to prove it.
“What torture is this? Leave me alone.”“I will not. You deliberately missed the community painting of the youth center last month. I'm certainly not going to let you miss out on the chance to dig the overflow canal.”Community service in the city of Vientiane wasn't a punishment; it was a reward for being a good citizen. The government knew the people would gladly give up their only day off for such a treat.
“I assumed that forty-six years of membership of the party would entitle me...“
“To a pension?” Kham laughed rudely
“Why not?”
“My old friend, I would have expected you to know better after forty-six years. Socialism means contributing for as long as you still have something to give. When you start to forget where your mouth is and dribble egg down your shirt, when you need to pack towels into your underpants to keep yourself dry, that's when the State will show its gratitude. Communism looks after its infirm.”
“I think you are a cog in this great revisionist machine which now powers our beloved country. You are a cog just as I am a cog and The President is a cog. At this important time in our creation, we need all our cogs meshing and coordinated. Don't let us down. Don't stop the machine, Siri.”
“Good health, Doctor. Sorry I can't get up.”
“Ma's got cirrhosis. I told you about it.”
“Yes. Good health, Mrs. Vongheuan.” It seemed peculiar to be wishing good health to a woman who was clearly not healthy at all. But such was the national greeting.
A skip-the-line loan from the library, reshelving at chapter 20—nearly halfway—because I found myself not getting invested in the characters. The doddering Sun Priest annoys me.
I'm stopping at 64%. I didn't feel compelled at all to continue as it feels .. canned. Honestly it's a shame the sequel doesn't live up to the first book.
Started it and stopped at 10%. Maybe I'll pick it up again in the future, who knows? I just realized that I'm not in the mood for deceit (righteous or not) and its attendant stress.
Also while the hunger in the first few chapters are incredibly vivid it's really hard to get into when at the same time my mother in law was visiting and just could not stop cooking copious amount of food that I have no choice but to gorge on.
These lines from 2018 hit hard:
The posts encouraged a narrative that I disagreed with as much as I desperately sought to live up to it: that my accomplishments and my youth gave me value, that I was always in the upward climb, that burnout was an easily resolved footnote. It was as shortsighted as it was unsustainable.
I was doing everything right, I thought: I was working out, going to therapy, taking breaks. I had an incredibly kind and patient partner who was always there for me. I didn't understand why I couldn't just, through force of will, make myself okay.
For so long I'd put all my personal value in my success, as much as I knew that I shouldn't. I had climbed so high, never really stopping to rest, and I was so scared of failing—I didn't think I'd survive it.
I didn't know that failing was exactly what I needed.
This was an amazing read.
I didn't grow up in Australia, nor did I grow up queer, but the essays resonated with me. Especially this quote:
“I want to tell people all the time: there is no deadline for growing up, no submission date for your life's narrative. You can work it out now or later. You can reveal yourself in parts, or as a whole, and make revisions. For better or worse, sooner or later, life conspires to reveal you to yourself, and this is growing up.”
Other choice quotes:
“I resented the idea of coming out. It wasn't that I was introverted, or that i felt like my romances were shameful, but that I loathed the idea of being pigeonholed. The social narratives around homosexuality had always left me with the impression that coming out was more than a courtesy. It was an expectation: like taking a ticket to join a queue or picking up litter; it was the responsibility of every good citizen to keep things neat and tidy.”
“To some gay people, being bi seems easy. We have the supposed luxury of being chameleons, the privilege of choosing from the entire buffet rather than being confined to a corner table, as if sex were simply a smorgasbord and falling in love a matter of calculated odds.
“The truth is, being bisexual means being invisible, especially if you are in a monogamous relationship, whether you paint yourself like a rainbow or a white picket fence.”
This book was so wonderful I had to mine the essays for quotes. I put the list of quotes that resonated with me in my blog here:
http://yellowdoorknob.blogspot.com/2020/05/growing-up-queer-in-australia.html
262 Dreams of AI Design:
Planes would fly just as well, given a fixed design, if birds had never existed; they are not kept aloft by analogies.
263 The Design Space of Minds-in-general
Any two AI designs might be less similar to each other than you are to a petunia. Asking what “AIs” will do is a trick question because it implies that all AIs form a natural class.
277 High Challenge
Timothy Ferris is worth quoting: To find happiness, “the question you should be asking isn't ‘What do I want?' or ‘What are my goals?' but ‘What would excite me?'”
278 Serious Stories
This was George Orwell's hypothesis for why Utopia is impossible in literature and reality: It would seem that human beings are not able to describe, nor perhaps to imagine, happiness except in terms of contrast
289 Something to Protect
In the gestalt of (ahem) Japanese fiction, one finds this oft-repeated motif: Power comes from having something to protect. I'm not just talking about superheroes that power up when a friend is threatened, the way it works in Western fiction. In the Japanese version it runs deeper than that.
In Western comics, the magic comes first, then the purpose: Acquire amazing powers, decide to protect the innocent. In Japanese fiction, often, it works the other way around.
1.5/5, rounded down because the rating is deceptive.
I forgot why I picked it up, maybe it was free? But boy this is grating. The main character who's a veterinarian is dumb. The writer guy is written to give off a mysterious vibe... but came across as annoying. Both characters were so insecure (of the writing career, divorce?, overbearing mother) they ran hot and cold, and each got worked up over the dumbest things. Quitting this at 60%.
Also I didn't care much about their view on bisexuality here, and I didn't find people biting their lips cute. (18 counts. Yes I counted.)
This book was on display at my library, and I just read Jo Walton for the first time a couple of months ago ([b:Among Others 8706185 Among Others Jo Walton https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1317792367l/8706185.SY75.jpg 6449955]) and I really liked it–so I thought I'd give it a try. It starts out strong with this opening in Chapter 1.Have the gates of Hell been opened? This promises a good pace–a welcome change from another book that I'm currently reading ([b:The Yiddish Policemen's Union 16703 The Yiddish Policemen's Union Michael Chabon https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1557172798l/16703.SX50.jpg 95855]) which bores me with its slow pace.Jo Walton did a wonderful job simplifying the politics in Florence–I have very little knowledge of medieval Italy and it would be really easy for me to get lost on who's who, and it did not happen here.A couple of chapters in, I found myself in wikipedia reading up on Girolamo–and spoiled myself of the story by learning that Girolamo was hanged and then burned at the stake. Or so I thought. As I continued reading, I was thinking this is a solid, enjoyable historical fiction that tracks really closely with the historical account (that I learned from Wikipedia), but with the additional perspective that Girolamo can actually see demons. Then I realized the narrative is moving really quickly, Girolamo is about to be hanged but it's only halfway through the book–And then we found Girolamo in Hell. He was actually a demon, and when he had lost hope in Hell, he began the cycle anew–which was how he prophesied future events. But the next time he returned to Earth, he learned about his true nature. His decisions and his attempts to use the Holy Grail to Harrow Hell over many lifetimes alters the course of history. Until he finally succeeded in the end? The last chapter he finally fell forward on his face from the stake. And the Gates of Hell have been opened.
I might suffer from inflated expectation because this book has just won Hugo, but this was underwhelming. I had to plod through and promised myself rewards every 30 pages or so because it really didn't compel me to continue reading.
The book began with a decent mystery, actually: Yskandr, the previous ambassador to the Empire, was dead and so Mahit was sent as a replacement. The whoddunit was quite intriguing.
But the narration could not sustain my interest. Maybe it was one thing being piled on after another in a very quick timeframe, maybe it was the long, pointlessly meandering internal thoughts on Mahit's part, maybe it was my lack of aptitude for poetry. English is not my first language so when they began to celebrate scansion and meters.. I just couldn't picture it in my mind.
As I began to lose my interest, several things stood out:
- This was billed as a space opera, but it's mainly political intrigue and you could transport most of the book to say, 14th century Italy, or a fantasy, or to present-day monarchy and there would be little difference to notice. [I noticed this point as I was listening to Genre Junkies podcast making this same exact complain about Scalzi's The Collapsing Empire–at least there were physics and physicists in Scalzi's Interdependency].
- An ambassador of one? How is it that Mahit was sent as an ambassador and she was the only person from Lesl in the City? It's hardly likely that if there had been trade no one else from Lesl would be in the City. She doesn't even have a native staff and I think it just beggars belief.
- An ambassador without access to resources that she had almost nothing to offer for a medical procedure? No money, nothing? (Compare this to real-life embassies full of diplomatic staff, local and otherwise.)
- Everyone in Teixcalaan seems to be basically human? At least everyone with speaking lines in the story is. And other than the (surmountable) difference in language, Mahit seems to be taller than other people, but that's it.
- Why is the imago technology that Mahit has seems to be an unspeakable taboo but other forms of bodily augmentation seems OK?
I can see this could have been an otherwise enjoyable read–but it doesn't seem to do the trick for me.
Aduh, aku suka sekali seri kedua Na Willa ini walau akhirnya agak sedih. Reda Gaudiamo lihai sekali menulis akhir yang membuat pembacanya penasaran dan tidak sabar ingin membaca kelanjutan kisah Na Willa.
Cerita kesukaan saya adalah Ke Kantor Pak. Aku jadi ingat dulu ketika aku dibawa ke SMA tempat almarhum Papa bekerja, perpustakaannya banyak sekali bukunya. Lalu ketik-ketik di mesin tik seharian. Menyenangkan!