Jonas
This collection is fascinating, as you can track how one age of comics slowly gives way to a new one, issue by issue. The start of what is sometimes called the “dark age of comics” is typically said to be the mid 80s, when both The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen were released. But here it becomes very obvious that this was, of course, just the culmination of a years-long transitional period.
Miller's influence on the content of each issue seems to follow a (mostly) linear gradient for the first half of the collection. He's starting out as “just an illustrator” working in a very classic but nondescript style, then progressively adds his own twist on the art, goes on to transition into a co-writer role, and finally ends up as the sole architect of what Daredevil–and with that, in a way, comics in general–will be for the next 40 years, and so in a way, you can see him invent part of the future, step by step, right here.
It's especially fun because both the silly and overly grim-dark things that defined the modern era–especially Miller's part in it–during the 80s, that by now have been commented on, abstracted, ironized, and developed for decades, are used very, very sincerely here. Of course, Bullseye immediately starts using throwing stars once Miller pens him. Of course, the Kingpin moves to Japan and fights ninjas. Of course, New York turns into a maggot-infested hell-hole from page one. And of course, the tragic damsel in distress turns into a mentally ill homeless person roaming the sewers in the final panel. (Yes, Miller's ... difficult politics start seeping into the stories immediately as well. No surprise here.)
Another thing that surprised me is how consistently great the art is throughout the whole collection. It's dynamic, it's ambitious, it's clear. It's just really fun to look at most of the time.
Don't be fooled by my relatively well-meaning score and the title; this is the most boring kind of climate change book: the one about capital-C Climate Change in general. It's for the most part not about ice and the role it plays on our planet and its warming. And it's not about the author's relationship with ice, specifically, either. Did you know that climate change is real and man-made? Yes? Thought so. But that's already most of what you will learn here. Education is not the issue.
The way I see it, there are only two kinds of books in this space that are interesting:
1. Books about a specific place, concept, or thing (like ice). It's one thing to say “since year x, the world has lost y percent of its coral reefs” and then go on and list a bunch of benefits that reefs have for the oceans. It's an entirely different one to spend a whole book with that reef, really getting to know it, and consequently feel a bit of what it means to lose it. The hard thing here is to find a language with which to talk about these places. It will most likely be more like poetry than journalistic writing. An example of this kind of nature writing that had a lasting impact on me would be “The Living Mountain” by Nan Shepherd. A book where she tries to capture the Cairngorm mountains and what they mean to her in prose.
2. Books that go deep on the effects, interdependencies, adaptations, and solutions that are involved. Basically, ecology. Here, journalistic writing does work. But it's not enough to skim the surface. Most of the time, the book either skips the interesting part (why something is having a certain effect) or pulls back too soon, only to then jump to a completely different topic halfway across the globe. An example of a book that did this really well in my opinion is “Deutschland 2050”, where Nick Reimer goes deep into the concrete effects climate change will have on Germany.
The best part was, frankly, the ending. Here, Jamail goes full-on climate realist; a thing we, as humanity, should do far more often. In some respects, climate change is a battle we have already lost. So now come two next steps: living with the damage we have already done, and mitigating any that would be even more devastating. Discourse tends to ignore, even punish, the former. Jamail comes at it from an angle of grief. That's certainly a way to do it, even if it's not the one I would choose. I wish he would have gone into that aspect of his relationship to climate change more deeply, instead of listing yet another study we already know. But ultimately, he seems to be of the impression that the issue is simply that nobody is believing these “radical” climate scientists. And if only people would see that they are right, they–we–would change our ways. I think it would be nice if it were this easy.
Absolutely deserves its reputation as one of the best Captain America, and even Marvel, arcs. Brubaker's voice as a creator is perfectly intact here. He understands that to tell a good, serious story set in a universe such as this, you have to embrace its inherently silly aspects rather than ignore them, and then use these aspects to tell the story you have in mind.
This arc being almost 20 years old now, with much of its innovations permeating the MCU, it's easy to overlook how good of an idea the Winter Soldier really is.. He fits the pulpy spy thriller tone perfectly but packs some serious emotional punch for Steve Rogers, leading to exactly the internal conflict you want for something like this.
The art can be a little rough in places, but the moody color palette combined with Brubaker's great dialogue keeps everything grounded throughout, ensuring that the tone and atmosphere are always spot-on.
Finally, the whole thing is very well structured. There's no filler, and information is revealed at exactly the right time, so that even if you know the twists and turns, it still feels satisfying to read.
I think this would work better if I were reading the individual issues as they were released. In collected form, it's simultaneously a bit too much and not enough. It's too much misery, which is only engaged with on a shallow level. The sorrow of the characters in most of the stories serves more as window dressing, meant to shock and little else. The only message seems to be along the lines of “it's impossible to truly communicate, so people are lonely and do messed up things to fill that void,” repeated over and over again. However, the comic isn't subtle about this; it provides all the answers directly in the text.
That said, it does deliver effective King-like horror sometimes. The meta-narrative that is hinted at is probably the most interesting part, if only because it's neither completely obvious nor entirely random, unlike the rest. Overall, it's intriguing enough and a quick read, so I will continue, but I'm still unsure where all the hype is coming from.
Review of the series as a whole:
Brullipsweiser clearly had a lot of fun creating this, which makes it easy to have fun reading it as well. There are a few minor pacing issues, with perhaps one or two moments too many where the protagonist's mental state is left ambiguous.
As a result, it's not as lean and focused as it could have been, but aside from that, everyone involved brings their absolute A-game. Especially compared to Fatale, which I read before this, it's clearly a step up in all departments. One thing I'd like to highlight is the lettering, which was strikingly well done and fit the character of the book perfectly.
Where the first volume was lean and driven by vision and ambition alone, this one necessarily expands on that vision, preparing Hellboy for his still ongoing 30-year run. However, Mignola simply isn't there yet as a writer, failing to elegantly juggle all of the narrative balls he throws into the air. So it didn't surprise me when he revealed at the end of the volume that he made significant changes to the story halfway through and that one of its best parts—the Epilogue—was added later when the issues were collected.
That doesn't mean there aren't some major improvements. The art is more confident and dynamic, even though it lacks some of the dark, damp moodiness of the first volume that I liked so much. The dialogue is much more interesting and natural as well. And while it doesn't yet always come together in a satisfying way, the wild mix of myths and folklore is a lot of fun.
So this functions as a review of the series as a whole, not just the fifth volume. And as a series, Fatale kind of overstayed its welcome for me. The concept is great and full of potential, and with Brullips, I would have thought it was in the right hands. I generally love their work. However, instead of capitalizing on this chance to break out of their usual mold, they decided to dig in even deeper and repeat themselves on a meta level—the series' tone ended up very similar to that of their other work—as well as on an issue-by-issue basis. There simply is not much forward momentum, and each arc plays out in much the same way as the others, right up until volume five here, when they can't stretch the material any more and have to bring it home. To be fair, they manage that landing mostly very well, and this last volume is pretty much the strongest. But they literally had a cosmos of possibilities for putting a twist on their usual shtick and seem to have decided to ... just not do that, I guess?
This doesn't mean that Fatale overall is bad, of course. These are very talented craftspeople with decades of experience under their belts. Even at his most routine, Brubaker still has an intuitive understanding of pacing and tone, Phillips has a good feeling for when to add detail and when to leave that to the reader, and Breitweiser's colors will always be some of my favorites in all of comics. So on a moment-to-moment basis, this is great stuff. It's just that I think they should have either stuck to 12 issues with this one or gone way harder on the cosmic horror aspects. As it stands, it's surprisingly unremarkable.
Schiller, Goethe, Schelling, Novalis, the Humboldts, the Schlegels, etc. all hung out and had a very Real Housewives of Jena-like social life. That's a great fact. But the challenge is that a great fact isn't a great story in itself. The challenge turns into a problem when none of the things your protagonists did together had any bearing on what they thought, even though your central thesis is that there was a creative cross-pollination between these people that only happened because they were living in close proximity to each other. It really seems like they could have just as easily read each other's work from a distance and the Romantic movement would have happened more or less the same way.
Still, I always like this way of getting a feeling for history: zooming in on a very specific context and time, and simply hanging out with a cast of fun characters. On that front, the book definitely delivered.
Also, this was a way more elegant way of building on Wulf's past success with “The Invention of Nature” than most non-fiction authors manage once they land a hit. This is no “What if [thesis of the last book], but it's about the future this time!?” kind of Frankopan- or Harari-style phone-in.
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4/5 as an audiobook. Even though there are many names—some even duplicates—it was never very hard to keep track of what was going on. And if it was, it helped that most things weren't very integral to what followed anyway.
If you can get over the sound of the subtitle, this book does three things right:
1. It's written for a specific audience and tells you upfront.
That audience is bootstrapped (mostly; it allows for some leeway in financing models) B2B SaaS businesses with some semblance of product-market fit—defined by the author as a running product customers are willing to pay for—and both the market and ambition to grow that business to upwards of $100k in MRR.
While my business is not in a market that would ever allow for that level of revenue, enough of the advice still applied, so even if you're running a niche SaaS, I'd say the book might still be relevant to you.
2. This makes it possible to give specific, relevant advice instead of general platitudes.
If you fall squarely into the target group described above, there will be few sections that don't apply to you or don't leave you with actionable advice.
If your business is way smaller, whole sections (e.g., hiring) might be mostly irrelevant, as they were for me. So keep that in mind.
3. It doesn't overstay its welcome.
At around 190 pages minus a lot of formatting and empty pages between chapters, this is a pretty quick read without much fluff.
If you have been at this for a while, most of the things here will already be familiar to you. But reading something again at the tight time is often more valuable than knowing it in the abstract.
So as long as you see yourself as part of the target group, I feel confident recommending this. And I can especially recommend reading this as part of a book club with your co-founders, if you have them. I can guarantee you will get a good discussion going.
Truly, positively hated the Souweines and their PMC bullshit. Loved the builders though (even if I did feel a bit betrayed when they started warming up to Judith later on.)
Kidder did a great job not falling into the trap of sensationalising the subject. Just a very thorough, sometimes beautiful investigation of the everyday. Even I have to admit that it could sometimes be a bit tough motivating myself to pick it back up though.
According to Pollan, his father was one of the “world's great indoorsmen”. And with A Place of My Own, Pollan has written the defintive book for all us indoorsmen who dream of designing their own indoors (actually building them from the ground up being optional in my opinion.)
Bonus points for discussing Christopher Alexander, and then coming back to his ideas again and again throughout the book.
4/5 Overall, but certainly a 5/5 audiobook. Exactly the right level of complexity and density of names to listen to on walks.
Book 1/n of my self-help book clean up; Self help books are everywhere, and every so often I see one and can't help but think: “Maybe there's actually some good advice in there?” So I'll try to get through as many as quickly as I can.
Review:
Thankfully, I don't have nearly as many barriers to functioning as some others among the target audience of this book. So, much of the advice geared towards compassionate self-talk wasn't super relevant for me specifically. But I'm still a sucker for a good, practical and honest housekeeping tip that acknowledges your limitations and instead of fighting them accepts them and basically turns that into a judo move for dealing with your chores–and there are some good ones like that in here!
So for me, specifically, it was a 3/5 read. But for everyone struggling with keeping house from an emotional standpoint, I think this is a 5/5 starting point for decreasing that load. So 4/5 overall.
There are five star stories here, but not all reach that level of quality (of course). Still, it's a fun collection of vignettes, riffing on related ideas, elevating each other by being placed in the same context this way.
One of the most evocative pieces–“Lena”–is available online: https://qntm.org/mmacevedo If you like it, it's worth getting this collection for its sequel–“Driver”–alone.
A fun and fast-paced medium-boiled detective story, set in Silicon Valley, about an international money laundering scheme, kicked off by the murder of a cypherpunk, revolving around a 67 year old digital forensics guy with a very slight libertarian bent, who's kind to the homeless and working class and falls for a woman more or less his own age, solves the case using OSINT, all written by a leftist famous for critisizing big-tech. Yeah ... I liked it.
Well, this is a weird one. There is almost nothing in here that I don't agree with, and the way Chachra articulates some of these very important things is often simple and beautiful. She even opens with a quote from one of my all-time favorite books, Ursula Franklin's ‘The Real World Of Technology.' So, what's not to like? Well, the problem is that, while the contents are great, it's just not very good as a book. While the topic is endlessly interesting and complex, the book itself is very repetitive, to the point where I felt like I was reading the same sentences over and over again. And while multiple volumes could be filled with gripping details or thoughts about infrastructure and its role in our lives, Chachra instead decided to fill this particular book with the modern non-fiction blight that is scenic intros—semi-relevant stories from the author's life that she comes back to again and again.
The sad state of popular non-fiction writing makes it impossible for me to say if this is due to too much or too little editorial oversight. But these 320 pages could've easily been cut down to 100—if that. The strange thing is that, other than the thousands of self-help blog posts turned into bloated productivity books, this could've easily been a 2000-page tome without any fluff and still be interesting.