Sarah Lewis
I agree with most of the other reviews, both good and bad!
Yes, the author seems like an eccentric billionaire who is painting the picture in a biased way AND yes, the concept of crystalizing, recording, and applying principles is a great idea. Yes, it's heavy on concept and light on application AND yes, some of his tools are brilliant. Yes, many of the principles are obvious or idealistic or potentially much more alienating than he suggests AND yes, some of them have already been useful to me.
Yes, it has many flaws AND yes, I now want to get a hard copy to dog-ear and mark up.
I loved Sanae's writing style, journey, and thoughtful reflection. I also love how she takes simple shapes and turns them into elegant projects, no pattern required.
Not everyone likes this approach. I imagine it appeals more to people who like to wing it, “throw things together” when they cook, etc. I am one of those people. I hate prepping for projects, and cutting out fabric while trying to keep the pattern aligned is my least favorite part of sewing. (And let's not even talk about patterns that have to be printed and assembled!)
Obviously there are times when you do absolutely need a pattern. However, this book is more geared towards sewing as therapy, mindfulness, grounded in simplicity, accepting wobbles, letting go of perfectionism... the “go with the flow” flexibility of the projects perfectly suits the narrative of the book, and I'm looking forward to making some of them. (Just as soon as I finish the three other craft projects I'm in the middle of.
The writing is a bit uneven, but the story is compelling enough to make the book worthwhile.
Fair warning,: the first third of the book is absolutely excruciating. There is horrific child abuse, tragic misfortune, and rape used for the purpose of maintaining a power imbalance. (The rape scene is not graphic and not even directly mentioned, but it's clear what is happening and nauseating despite the vagueness.)
It's hard to separate “the story” from “the message.” This is definitely a book with an agenda (an important one). Many reviewers felt like it got too preachy at the end, but (as the mom of a middle-grader) sometimes the target audience needs connections made explicitly.
The author made good use of the theme of “counting the things that matter,” and that's one of the ideas that makes this book so good: in a world full of overwhelming, uncountable tragedies, telling the story of ONE tragedy makes it possible to see it. Stories are so much more powerful than facts.
As for the story itself, it was compelling and believable. The characters were conflicted and sometimes contradictory in a way that felt true. Even in a world dominated by abusers, there is nuance; humanity still exists even in dark places, and it brings up good questions about what leads a person to exploit others.
Like most reviewers, this solidifies my commitment to only purchase fair-trade cocoa products. I'm on the fence, though, about when I'll recommend it to my son.
This book came highly recommended, and had its moments. It wasn't a great fit for me, though.
I'm a Christian, and while much of the advice is logical and can be applied regardless of worldview, the heavy Stoic influence feels... anemic, I guess.
Beyond worldview, I also found it too abstract. I appreciated many of the philosophies in theory, but the application was often nebulous.
It was a slog to finish, and I would have spent the time more profitably reading a blog post on the topic and then moving on to the next book in my to-read pile.
A fun, light read but missed the fundamental message of its source story, and as a result, lacked its depth.
I have many thoughts about this book but recognizing that I'm unlikely to take the time to get them all coherently stated here, I'm going to opt for a few bullet points instead.
● People seem to like arguing about whether this is a book about the dangers of technology or the dangers of censorship. I think it's somewhat both, sure, but more about the dangers of being content to engage only with things that make us feel good.
● I say it's only sort of about censorship because, as Faber argues, “Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary. The public itself stopped reading of its own accord. You firemen provide a circus now and then at which buildings are set off and crowds gather for the pretty blaze, but it's a small sideshow indeed, and hardly necessary to keep things in line. So few want to be rebels anymore. [...] People are having fun.”
● One other bit I thought was interesting: before reading this book, I assumed it would be all about the book as savior. But another Faber quote: “It's not the books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the ‘parlor families' today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not.” As SparkNotes summarizes, “...the stories and ideas told in books could just as easily be told through different forms of media. But, those types of stories are not what people are interested in. [...] It is not just books that are absent from society, but knowledge and curiosity about the world in general.”
● Some reviewers reject the book because “the future” (now the present) hasn't unfolded the way Bradbury described it. At least one other reviewer points out that sci-fi is never about an accurate prediction of the future, but instead a means of wrestling with timeless challenges in humanity. I agree, and for that reason consider the book incredibly timely. A whole lot of the issues we're facing currently (like social media bubbles and a seeming inability to have civil discourse about anything meaningful) come back to the preference we humans have for “feeling good” and avoiding discomfort.
Eh. I had heard a lot of great things about this book, so I may have come into it with too-high expectations.
There were some parts that I loved, most specifically the descriptions of healthy family relationships, including those that were still in progress. The writing and narration were also good.
However, my one-sentence synopsis would be: moody teenager spends 98% of the book being moody, and then ✨the magic of love✨ magically fixes his entire life.
Not my thing. I can't really figure out the critical acclaim, and have to wonder if it would be as widely praised if the main relationship was heterosexual.
To be clear, my gripe is not with the gender(s) of the main characters or their relationship in the abstract, just the magical-fixing. I suspect if we were talking about a girl getting a boyfriend who was perfect and suddenly made everything perfect and fixed all her insecurities, it wouldn't have made it out of the slush-pile, good writing notwithstanding.