toki

maybe i missed something with this one? i disliked a number of things:

- all the voices blurred together, which might have worked with the theme of unity/disunity, but all the statements were so bland and insipid that i didn't really care to distinguish them. there was a funeral director, certainly, but they were so same-in-tone and same-in-attitude as everyone else that nothing really interested me about their perception of life/death as a funeral director.

- because the voices all blurred together, good chunks of the narration were dedicated to being too obvious to the extent of being unrealistic, e.g characters outright introducing themselves as human or humanoid. the existential philosophy here didn't work for me; it felt like platitudes from ham-fisted raisonneurs rather than a diverse range of beliefs on what it means to be human

- i felt as if the themes were underdeveloped, particularly regarding capitalism. humanoids are essentially created to work, being used as a form of cheap labor, and yet, this book dances around the idea. sure, there are some snide comments here and there, but no real exploration on life as inseparable from capitalism.

overall, i feel like there are better books that do the same thing the employees tries to do, both in style/form & substance.

this was such a fun read! darko dawson is such a sweet and delightful character who has genuine love for his wife and son, to the extent that it propels his character and the plot forwards. honestly, most of my enjoyment came from reading dawson's inner dialogue & his interactions with others

i really wanted to like this book, esp because it was such a labor of love, but it just wasn't to my tastes :( i wish kyoko was given more time, esp wrt her relationship to her mom. really disliked how kornell was depicted; i think his character could have been more fleshed out. as it stands, he feels like a caricature existing only to emphasize kyoko's "smallness" or to further her arc .... their relationship was very sweet so i'm sad he didn't get more than what he did.

did not like daniel, did not like how much sympathy & time he was afforded.

i was very much struck by the writing, so maybe min's first book is better suited for me?

i started this back in... 2022? 2023 maybe? had a really interesting narrative style, but i really could not get over the incestuous pedophilic relationship, especially considering the author was a self proclaimed pederast. so. officially marking this as dnf

ocean vuong never fails to amaze... <3 one thing i really admire about his work is his grasp on structure. his control on the reader's ability to stop and start is masterful!!!

this was so fun to read!! prior to opening this up, i was in the mood for a whimsical, more silly read, and i'm happy i got that with some of the stories here. besides some of the more lighthearted ones, motoya has a great way of introducing more politically & societally relevant topics. overall, just a very fun style to read. could not put it down!

wow! i really did not like this!! a star and a half if only because it was engaging, but i found millie to be self-aggrandizing and annoying—which can WORK in a main character, especially if they're being satirized and made fun of as butler does, but the entire novel just feels like it's making fun of women. it reads very mean-spirited, especially when one of the only men in the novel is mocked for having "feminine" traits.

poverty is lightly grazed, and class isn't even mentioned at all. for a book described to be a critique on consumer culture, it sure as hell does not do a lot of critiquing! it would be easy to dismiss millie's viewpoint (re: buying a lot of clothes, saying that her alleged best friend is only saying she can't afford a coffee so millie can buy her one) if the novel didn't carry the EXACT SAME TONE for every other millieless narration.

maybe i'll have more to add later, but for now, this was deeply disappointing and slightly insulting

hmmm. i liked one or two of the stories in this, but i think ma's tone was a miss for me. i also think her inclusion of contemporary elements (see: vapes) was a bit too jarring for my tastes; juxtaposing a character taking a hit from a vape with the appearance of an unheard of drug, for example, was strange to me (and not in a good way!)

maybe i'll like a longer story from her more? but i can't say i'm compelled to read more of her work :(

Whatever else he may be, man is a social and an historical actor who must be understood, if at all, in close and intricate interplay with social and historical structures.

the late & great c. wright mills! passionately written, with a lot of charm. lots of pertinent observations, especially regarding the role of the sociologist & direction of the social sciences. fantastic work.

beautifully written & unflinchingly raw. one of my favorite reads ever; human acts is the paragon of non-linear narratives & changing perspectives. the differing narration styles (first/second/third person) & the change in structure really highlights the "mystery" element of this novel. "mystery" in the sense that the reader is trying to get the full picture of dong-ho's life&death, but also the different people of gwangju and the full, long-term effects state violence had on the country & city.

no character is wasted. the tight, small (named) cast makes each moment more heartwrenching; each character is given their ending and has their story told.

han kang's writing isn't for everyone, but i found her style remarkable! i really enjoy her esoteric vernacular. credit where credit is due, i think deborah smith's translation of human acts will be much more pleasing to critics of the vegetarian. one of my personal gripes with the eng version of the vegetarian (though i'd like to think i'm a bit more forgiving than the average article writer) was that its differing tone in english. i felt as if kang's writing (in korean) is extremely vivid & grounding, which makes her more fantastical writing topics (such as about the soul re: human acts & dreams re: the vegetarian) have much more of an impact. smith really nailed the grittiness of kang's style in human acts & i feel as if the kor & eng versions read more or less the same !

just a really spectacular book detailing an important part of rok's history written beautifully. i have read no one more deserving of the nobel prize.

haunting parables about trauma, abuse, and power. i found her pieces about sexual trauma & exploitation (the embodiment & snare) to be the strongest of the entire collection. really enjoyable.

i really really enjoyed this. the writing is snappy, and the story itself is surreal & kafkaesque, right down to its humor. i think, ultimately, this was a very good meditation on childhood / loss of childhood, grief, and progress vs. stagnation. the way the past holds us back vs the way it moves us forward. short but left a very strong impression on me

delicious, electric style; ozeki's documentarian past shines through her characters. every character feels real & whole, even the wives that are featured for only a chapter or two. especially love how, as jane's faith in the meat industry dwindles, her narration becomes more interested in people rather than recipes.

despite ozeki's good work, it left much to be desired. for one, with how many parallels are set up btwn jane & akiko, you would think they would have more than one paltry face-to-face conversation. same thing for akiko & the vegetarian lesbians. though, i am fond of how woman-centric the latter half of the book became post-des informational session.

the racial commentary, at times, feels pushed aside, especially regarding discussion on colorism. in ozeki's attempt to portray how black people are often pushed aside, she inadvertently pushes them aside.

otherwise, a thrilling exploration of wifehood & meat consumption

lots and lots to think about here! nauseatingly beautiful; i really fell in love with tate's prose as the novel continued. i really enjoyed the jumps in perspective, and the continuity of "we" and the girls as one unit interrupted by chapters of them alone & separated in their adult life. i enjoyed the subtle exploration of their trauma, and how violence against women, particularly girls, was maintained in this particular town. what really appealed to me was the creeping dread of unease, and the general thought of "surely this isn't the case..." and then confirmation that that is, indeed, the case. brutes felt like a puzzle with only the corner pieces aligned, with details slowly clicking into place as you read and recall. it felt very much like remembering your childhood and remembering all the sickening, rotting details that you normalized or forgot as a kid.

my parents were butchers, and my life, from a very young age, revolved around meat. beef, pork, chicken, and all its variants. in a working class family, meat felt like a lifeline; without the sanctuary of our butcher shop, i'm unsure as to if we would have gotten any protein beyond tofu and fish. in the past year, the involvement of meat in my life has consumed me: books, documentaries, interviews... so, in light of this, joy sorman has accomplished for me what every book strives to do: instill a sense of being seen & understood.

the obsession over meat & where your food comes from, the yearning to go back to a day where you knew your food, the discomfort in navigating a life outside of this obsession... it felt raw! it felt good! i felt recognized!!! the way sorman describes the veneration of viscera & deploys religious allusions as pim descends more and more into his obsession was so beautiful. not to mention the prose in general was incredibly well-done, and i loved the frantic, long sentences with spiraling metaphors and varying perspectives. the interchange of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, made it feel like we were where pim envisioned himself to be: sliced open, occupying his brain, looking out from his cattle-like eyes.

not to mention the earnest look into class dynamics! pim comparing himself with the slaughterhouse workers, asserting himself as "better" (even when the narration suggests he should have solidarity) + cows as the proletariat of the animal kingdom: laboring and laboring...

this was fantastic, and its style made it lightning-fast to finish & left me wanting more to consume, consume, consume.

Why, when her desire was the most natural thing, was she not brave enough to look it in the eye?

phenomenal characters; the women particularly felt refreshingly whole & distinct, despite the novel exploring their similarities. the in-depth characters made the relationships so much more satisfying--rika's growing obsession with kaiji, only interrupted by her life-long love for reiko, rika's banal romantic relationship with makoto, her grief regarding her dad and her mom... incredibly beautiful & well-written.

really powerful, haunting ruminations on the effects of child abuse throughout your life. i think labelling this book as "weird girl lit" or anything similarily reductive is doing a huge disservice to the way murata portrays disassociation, trauma, and a society that inherently neglects children & fosters their abusers. heart-wrenching, stomach-turning, nail-biting, but ultimately a very tragic and sorrow tale about abuse.

has been on my tbr forever!!! really insightful work and super accessible. maybe i'll add more once i've sat with this, but i particularly enjoyed the authors' point about how gig work has always been around and in struggle. also thoroughly enjoyed the part where they talk about the self-made communities. i wish i got to hear in-depth about the anecdote of ghost workers pitching in to buy their colleague a new computer!

kind of insane how depoliticized / de-socialist-ized this book became in the public conscience. every page is about how poor & depressed the family is, and the novel ends with calls for a worker's uprising. mr. sinclair, i am so sorry!

beautiful, haunting, filled with dread, & extremely important.

"But in the Minotaur’s world it is far easier to kill and devour seven virgins year after year, their rattling bones rising at his feet like a sea of cracked ice, than to accept tenderness and return it."

maybe one of my favorite books of all time. heartbreaking prose about loneliness interrupted with touching moments of human connection. the way sherill depicts isolation is subtle and moving.

Wonderful read. Postmortal Society is well organized and split into 11 chapters, each chapter short enough to be digestible but long enough to be informative. While the book is mostly Western centric, many of the authors do well in acknowledging the limited perspective. The book made sure to bring up many relevant topics when talking about death and immortality, such as the proliferation of death commodification, symbolic immortality, and the existence of death and immortality in a new, technology-based world.

Well organized and had some good ideas. I have some issues with touting capitalism as the most progressive “end goal” of countries, but I understand that people who defend a Eurocentric argument are most likely to view that as the ultimate sign of progression and argue in that regard. He introduced and reviewed ideas I already knew and accepted, and did what he promised to do: refute diffusionist ideas. In the conclusion, he states that this book is more of an introduction to the subject and idea, and I'm inclined to agree. The book is a good start to rebutting Eurocentric ideas and brushing on non-Eurocentric views, but I would call it just that: a start.

You don't love anything or anyone, you don't even love the difference you think you embody. All you know is the grace of the bodies of the dead, the grace of those like yourself.

Duras's writing style in The Malady of Death is dreamlike and poetic, purposefully the bones of a story. She writes what is needed and leaves the rest up for interpretation. Though the story is written in second person, it's remarkably evident that you, the reader, is a passive observer to the “you” in the story — and perhaps that evokes a stronger emotional response.

Helpful to read in the context of the heteropatriarchy, especially with the trope of the manic pixie dream girl. In a way, this short story is a wonderful subversion of that.

A Social History of Dying is an informational, useful book that's impact is diminished by its lack of organization and structure. It serves more as a compilation, or a catalogue, of sociological information (most of it having to do with death and dying) rather than a straightforward book about the history of dying. This, if the book was organized better, would have worked better in its favor.

First, the positives: The information Kellehear puts out and the opinions he posits are both very intriguing, especially the progression of the ‘kinds' of deaths that are conceptualized. Furthermore, I appreciate the inclusion of different perspectives, cultures, and traditions in his analyses of society. A common criticism I've seen is that he makes sweeping generalizations of humanity and this critique, to me, seems unfounded. The inability to make specifications is an inherent problem seen with topics like sociology and philosophy, which is why the effort Kellehear made to include all kinds of cultures is appreciated. It's difficult to write on the humanities without making generalizations, especially with a topic so universal yet divisive as death.

His general message in his conclusion about care and compassion being a human instinct is a good one. Too often do people think that humanity is inherently selfish or skewed towards unstable power dynamics.

This is also good in addressing how things like capitalism and colonization affects certain aspects of death and dying. The former is especially stressed in relevant chapters.

Now, the negatives: Again, I don't believe that Kellehear adding a wider context to this book is necessarily bad. The problem herein lies with the fact that his lack of structure causes the background information to be less supplemental and more distracting. His tangents don't seem to be contained, and are sprinkled in here and there. I would have found several chapters on background information and then several chapters on the main point to be much easier to read. The organization — or lack thereof — made reading hard to sludge through sometimes, especially with chapters filled with background information such as Part II and III. This one flaw made it drastically harder to read and, as seen with other reviews, made others quit entirely within the first few chapters. I would have definitely finished this a lot quicker had it not been for this.

Overall, it's a good read, but I would only really recommend it to people who are really interested in death studies and aren't too bothered by extra details. A summary of all his ideas — which I would say are still thought-provoking — are listed in the conclusion, so if you're unsure about reading all of it, it might be good to read just the conclusion.

In this book, Khapaeva discusses the cultural change in celebrating and commodifying death and death-based aesthetics, such as vampirism and Halloween. She compares reception of these topics in America and Russia, using references and media from both as supplements to her point. While I disagree with the notion of humanity being inherently death-denying, a lot of her points had merit. Her view on humanism and how nonhuman entities reject human exceptionalism was interesting, as is the idea that this led to dehumanization and desensitization of human death.

However, I quickly lost interest when she began analyzing Harry Potter and its impact. While I can't doubt its cultural impact, I believe Khapaeva did a poor job at communicating its relevancy. Particularly troubling was the demonization of mental illnesses — specifically, the labelling of Harry as a “deranged maniac” after explaining his psychotic symptoms. Khapaeva argues that the demonization of these psychotic symptoms in “wizard culture” in the series means that it can't serve as a therapeutic tool in reality, which completely misses the idea that children seeing a protagonist be famed as a hero while still struggling with psychotic symptoms could be comforting. On a smaller scale, the usage of the outdated “multiple personality disorder” instead of “dissociative identity disorder” was telling. Generally, I thought this portion delving into Harry Potter's mental state was unnecessary and in poor taste, especially because the series should have been brought up solely due to its themes of death and how it affects humanism and human exceptionalism.

The beginning part is strong, and still has important information that I enjoyed reading through, but the section about Harry Potter should have been shorter than it is. Most of the information there was irrelevant at best and damaging at worst.