Danielle

I won't lie: this book made me uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable because Cooper eloquently illustrates some terrible truths. It made me uncomfortable because she calls out white women specifically – for being exclusionary in our feminism, for electing Donald Trump, and for our “white women tears.” Dr. Cooper has every right to excoriate white women, and black men too; because conversations of feminism are centered around white women, and conversations of race around black men. Cooper stands up and calls bullshit on that. And through this series of powerful essays, she shares her experience as a black woman and feminist, beautifully merging those vernaculars in what truly can only be called eloquent rage. This is a must-read for inclusionary feminists.

This should be a required read for every white person. Oluo eloquently lays out the insidious forms white supremacy take in our society, and how white people are complicit. The author includes poignant examples from her own experience coupled with powerful statistics to illustrate the experience of race in America. I learned a ton from this book, and will continue to reflect on it and talk about it (the discussion section will certainly help!), but what I found most helpful are the points for action. There's a lot to talk about, and a lot to do, and I'm so grateful to have this book in my tool kit.

Really damn powerful. The prose is calm and melodic, yet impassioned; the sentiment is powerful and disheartening and hopeful; and overall, the message is clear that the capital d “Dream” is a narrative that does not apply to black people in our country. Reading this felt like a dream, though; not just because of the beauty of the language, but because the struggles of the author and countless others are not my struggles. It feels like a world away, and while I'll never understand, reading this piece is certainly an exercise in trying. Absolutely recommend it, and I know I'll be reading more Ta-Nahisi Coates.

Laugh-out-loud funny. The part about the Michael Jackson impersonator at his wedding? I nearly fell off the elliptical. Gondelman has a real talent for the comedic essay that lets his earnest, almost innocent enthusiasm shine through; but he doesn't shy away from tackling tough topics that loom over our time, like divisive politics and misogyny and racism. It's a fun read firmly cemented in reality that rings with levity and hope and some good solid laughs about miserably old pugs or dates gone awry.

I'm not crying, you're crying! (...I'm definitely crying)

This is a beautiful Bildungsroman, showing how discovering ourselves is every bit as difficult and mysterious as understanding those we love, and who love us. The language is so simple, yet captures the complexity of those relationships — to family, friends, ourselves. And without spoiling it, I'll just say that we need a lot more young-adult books like this one.

I had a hard time getting into this one at first, but once I did, I was totally rapt with the story. The oral history/interview storytelling, though it's been done well before (e.g. World War Z) was the perfect form for this narrative. At first, it felt cliche; the character building was so expected, and the plot like any other “making of the band” movie/show/etc I've seen. But once it got going, there started to be some complexity to the characters that made it interesting and very real, and I found myself emotionally invested. I had to remind myself that this band never existed, so there's no diving into a research hole of Google images and old magazine or Times articles like I might after, say, watching Bohemian Rhapsody. I think there were some missed opportunities at the end to do something unexpected or subversive but I realize this isn't that kind of book, so all in all, it was an entertaining read. Rock n' Roll!!!! \m/

Before reading this, I knew Maya Angelou as a civil rights activist and a renowned poet. I had NO idea how incredible a life she lived. In the span of the ~6 years of this book (which I gather by how much her son aged), she started as a single mother in San Francisco, spending a few weeks hosting Billy Holiday (who was apparently kind of an awful person); then moving to New York to become a fundraiser for the civil rights movement, meeting with Martin Luther King and Malcom X; and rubbing elbows with the likes of James Baldwin as part of the Harlem Writer's Guild; acting in a play with James Earl Jones; moving to Cairo with the South African activist she married only to leave his sorry, controlling ass soon after to move to Ghana, where her son almost died before attending university. And this is all BEFORE she became a famous author. Like... woah. And then there's the writing. The writing!! Of course, it was economical and lovely throughout, but sometimes she would so perfectly, poetically describe a scene or a feeling, I was so taken aback I had to dogear the page and reread a few times. Just a beautiful book. Can't wait to read more of her autobiographies and learn more of her amazing life and mellifluous prose.

I'm disappointed in this book because I enjoyed Peak Performance, and was able to take away useful tidbits of information that I semi-successfully integrated into my life. I was hoping this book would focus mostly on sports examples but it ended up being more like any other generic self-help book I've read (and in fact, referenced quite a few of those). And like many of those books, pretty much everything you need to know is in the title/subtitle. So I can't say I found anything particularly novel or insightful here. Maybe a sign I should stop reading these?

This one is a page-turner, for sure. I couldn't put it down after I got about a third of the way through. I finished it in a few hours as it reads quickly; it's mostly dialogue, written simply, and chapters are short. While I enjoyed it, and indeed can say I'm thoroughly creeped out as of this review (the darkness and ominous wind outside my window certainly don't help), I wouldn't call this a “nutritious” read. The author uses tired archetypes for the genre (thin, beautiful damsel; dark & mysterious protagonist; monstrous, fat, miserable aunt; etc etc) and as I said, the dialogue is pretty simple. This is total Hollywood bait. In fact, I'd be surprised if it isn't already optioned.

This book deals with corporate America and how that intertwines with the poet's experience of her father, his expectations, and his deterioration. I liked a handful of the poems as there was some great play with sound and meter but ultimately this style is not really for me.

Not sure whether or not this was ghostwritten, but I hope not because it is so raw and vulnerable (and, hate to say it, not terribly well-written). Following the journey of the author's eating disorder shows you really don't know what's going on behind the scenes of your favorite tv shows. Side note: while it comes to a happy conclusion in recovery, I can see how the early parts of this book would be very triggering to those who have dealt with EDs.

JCO writes with a sense of immediacy that's like an IV drip for me. I haven't figured out exactly what it is about her writing that I find so compelling (because I know it's not for everyone), but I think it has something to do with the way she's able to allow us into characters' consciousnesses that feels really real. Like, I'm sitting here feeling the same feelings her characters feel... but they are such delightfully nuanced feelings. I also love that she writes these pseudo-thrillers of short stories; they inspire dread, not fear (though some are downright creepy) which is perfect for me because I'm way too suggestible. Also cool that almost all of the stories take place in upstate NY!

As with many books of this ilk, the thesis is more or less in the subtitle. I enjoyed the descriptions of the different seminal studies in psychology as they pertained to the topic, and I like and now often reiterate to myself “We do hard things”: but overall the book got really repetitive after the first chapter or two. Takeway: success is determined more by grit than raw talent. Perhaps as a self-identified gritty individual I was like... well, yeah.

Jacobs spends a year or so trying out a bunch of different health fads as a means of becoming the “healthiest man alive.” He's a funny/talented writer, so I enjoyed his somewhat sardonic (but never mean) retelling of meeting with the experts and gurus of each fad and actually diving into their merit scientifically. That being said, the whole book is ridden with diet culture, and made me think, what's the point here? Jacobs more or less comes to a similar conclusion – that all of this stuff is time-sucking and can be contradictory and like his aunt, death is coming for us all anyways, and not always in ripe old age, often regardless of how we live. There are some “healthy” things we can do to improve our lives slightly, but the key is the word “slightly,” and a quest for bodily perfection is a doomed one.

This lands somewhere between a beach read and more serious fiction; there were certainly some beautiful descriptive scenes, and it had a bit of that can't-put-it-down quality, but ultimately it's a pretty standard, sometimes slightly cliche tale of a family tragedy.

I watched the documentary “Jacob” with my family, and damn, what a guy. Per the movie synopsis:
“He's a doctor, a lawyer, a bioethicist, a college professor, a licensed New York City tour guide, a poet, a playwright, an award-winning novelist, a devoted son and a true friend. In this upbeat documentary profile meet the most prolific, most accomplished, least boastful person in America.” I mean... he taught creating writing at Gotham City Writers while commuting into NYC from Boston, because he was IN LAW SCHOOL at Harvard. What??

So I thought I would read one of his books of short stories. He's no Raymond Carver but yeah, definitely not bad. They say God doesn't give with two hands; I guess in this case, God gives with ten?

This is a powerful memoir of a gay Black man growing up with a single mother in a religious family, exploring all the ways that it is so difficult for the author to accept himself in a society that doesn't accept him. It's a beautiful and emotional journey that reads both like a love letter to his mother, and a journal entry to himself. I wish I had something more substantive to say, but unfortunately I'm catching up on books I forgot to review and I read this many months ago :(

Well this was an interesting pick to read at the beginning of quarantine! In the book, a host of people from one town just evaporate into thin air one day, leaving their loved ones to deal with the fall-out of immediate and widespread loss in a community. The book explores the aftermath as several people in the town form a cult of silence, total asceticism, but also a weird kind of pseudoterrorism that then looms over the rest of the community that are trying to continue their lives “normally.” It's an interesting meditation on existentialism and the ways we move through grief.

Only valuable if you can take the online test... but the test was cool and I'm excited to leverage the results with the help of my mentor at work. I also love the idea of flexing your strengths vs funneling all your energy into trying to overcome weaknesses, which I have spent my career hitherto doing.

Enjoyable insomuch as it was so empowering to read about the trailblazing women who made it possible for me and so many others to pursue this sport. And it still ASTOUNDS me that there was still so much outcry and discrimination and women being physically pulled off race courses in my mother's lifetime. The fact that there wasn't even a female Olympic marathon until 19fucking84 is just absurd to me. The structure of this book is kinda weird – it's just bios of women, not truly chronological, stacked one after the other. I would have preferred a more compelling narrative; this read more like a textbook. Also it is written by a man....... Still, worth it to give the women who made this sport what it is the honor and respect they deserve!

Many people* (men) have recommended this to me as their favorite book — emphatically, as it shaped their worldview — so even though I typically don't like science fiction, I thought I might enjoy this one. Wrong!In fact, I struggled to finish and skimmed most of the last 50 pages. I know this is a young adult book from the ‘70s but my god is it sexist. Only a precious few girls (only one mentioned) make it into this school, presumably because they aren't good at strategy and math. And the most fleshed-out female character of the book, Valentine, is of course portrayed as beautiful and selfless and ultimately powerless, the way every man would imagine a perfect woman to be. *vomit Also anyone else feel like Ender's relationship with his sister was a sub for a romantic plot line and maybe just a little messed up? Maybe?

Not only that, but I'm supposed to buy into the fact that this kid has these kind of mature, nuanced thoughts as a 6-10 year old? I get the whole precocious kid thing, but that's been done in fantasy books a million times over and far more believably. Just because it's sci-fi or fantasy shouldn't mean I have to suspend belief. If kids in this world (presumably ours, in the future) are that fucking smart, you need to make me REALLY believe that. Whereas to me it felt ridiculous.

That and the plot just dragged on through tons of dumb battles. It was like reading a play-by-play of action scenes, or watching different levels of a video game. Which I truly don't give a shit about. I'm just not compelled by battle/action scenes. Not in movies, not in books. They have no substance for me. And the characters were just as flat — no growth, no development (which maybe makes sense if you have the internal life of a 50 year old man as an elementary school child? Like what the heck!).

Oh and lest I forget the dialogue! Just terrible.

Anyways I can see how a middle school boy would eat this up but as a grown woman, I think this is a pretty terrible book.

The body is so cool! This was a great crash course in human biology - basically everything I've forgotten since I last took it in high school. Peppered with medical history, interesting (and sometimes very disturbing) anecdotes from around the world, myth-busting and current expert opinion, this was a great informational read. Written in Bryson's distinctive clever and dry voice, I found it accessible as well. Now I'm loaded with great trivia that I will inevitably forget in a few weeks.

This was so short, I'd hesitate to even call it a novella... but I read it in hardcover, so it counts, right? It explores a Me-Too narrative from the perspective of the accused and a friend of the accused and is both terrifically written and insightful about a very poignant societal moment.

This is one of those books that, if I had the undisturbed time block, I could have killed in just a couple hours. It's an easy, YA-type read but with a really interesting concept: what if all the aspects of our personality were kitschy, stereotyped characters (calling it as it is) forming a team that helps us through our life's work? It's kind of fun to think of what your own cast of characters might look like, and how they might help or hinder you, say, before a big business presentation or something. It's a cute concept, a fun detective narrative, super easy to read, and ultimately pretty meta re: the writing process.

I love DFW. This is the first collection of short stories of his I've read, it was as delightful as I'd hoped. As with his longer-form fiction, the stories are almost over-the-top satiric while remaining fiercely relatable. DFW demands your constant, unhurried attention through his prolix explorations of the inner lives of these characters (which are really just substitutions for the author himself, and in that way are quite like his essays); and if you aren't paying attention, be prepared to be confused by the delightful, absurd end-of-narrative turns & plot-twists: rewards for making it through the dense prose.

My favorite is easily Good Old Neon, because I think that's the truest insight we'll ever get into the exact nature of DFW's depression, and ultimately why he took his own life... knowing that adds an intensity that feels so painfully and captivatingly real.

Though the last story about the poop sculptures was pretty great, too.