Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry, the author of Terms of Endearment, is his long-awaited masterpiece, …
Review of 'Lonesome Dove' on 'Goodreads'
3 stars
I wanted to like this book more. I really did. It was just so bulky (in hardcover), and harsh (in events).
My favorite characters (out of what seemed like thousands) were Gus, Newt, and Janey. I also liked Clara, until she went off on her rant at Call near the end of the book.
Maybe I'd enjoy the miniseries more.
I wanted to like this book more. I really did. It was just so bulky (in hardcover), and harsh (in events).
My favorite characters (out of what seemed like thousands) were Gus, Newt, and Janey. I also liked Clara, until she went off on her rant at Call near the end of the book.
Review of "Summary of Dave Bruno's the 100 Thing Challenge" on 'Goodreads'
2 stars
Interesting idea, less interesting book. Everything interesting about Dave Bruno's 1-year experiment could have been covered in a magazine-length article. As a book, Bruno gave us lots and lots of filler information that was tangentially related to the challenge.
Other reviewers quibble about the flexible boundaries of counting "100 things," and Bruno himself described his own ground rules that allowed him to count his library as one thing, and to exclude any of his family's shared belongings. These semantics didn't bother me as much as the overriding tone of Bruno's religious faith. His bible counts as a separate thing, but the rest of his library is a massive, other thing?
While an interesting commentary on our culture's focus on consumption, the book was rather weak as a memoir.
(And I do not own this book. I borrowed the Kindle version from the library.)
Interesting idea, less interesting book. Everything interesting about Dave Bruno's 1-year experiment could have been covered in a magazine-length article. As a book, Bruno gave us lots and lots of filler information that was tangentially related to the challenge.
Other reviewers quibble about the flexible boundaries of counting "100 things," and Bruno himself described his own ground rules that allowed him to count his library as one thing, and to exclude any of his family's shared belongings. These semantics didn't bother me as much as the overriding tone of Bruno's religious faith. His bible counts as a separate thing, but the rest of his library is a massive, other thing?
While an interesting commentary on our culture's focus on consumption, the book was rather weak as a memoir.
(And I do not own this book. I borrowed the Kindle version from the library.)
The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday …
Review of 'The Night Circus' on 'Goodreads'
3 stars
I liked the second half, when events finally start to come together, much more than the earlier sections. Erin Morgenstern spent much, much time setting the stage. And setting it. And setting it. There were some fabulous elements to her magical circus, and I suspect that sometimes words couldn't do justice to her vision.
This book presented many stark visual contrasts: fire and ice, black and white. The obvious contrast that's missing is good and evil; the only "bad guy" seemed to be the passage of time--and even "time" was not necessarily a bad thing, just something to be manipulated.
Each chapter is prefaced with a place and a date, and I almost didn't notice some overlapping time frames.
Another "time" trick was Morgenstern's use of describing everything in current tense, so that events happen now, not before now.
I was not particularly swept away by the love story, nor …
I liked the second half, when events finally start to come together, much more than the earlier sections. Erin Morgenstern spent much, much time setting the stage. And setting it. And setting it. There were some fabulous elements to her magical circus, and I suspect that sometimes words couldn't do justice to her vision.
This book presented many stark visual contrasts: fire and ice, black and white. The obvious contrast that's missing is good and evil; the only "bad guy" seemed to be the passage of time--and even "time" was not necessarily a bad thing, just something to be manipulated.
Each chapter is prefaced with a place and a date, and I almost didn't notice some overlapping time frames.
Another "time" trick was Morgenstern's use of describing everything in current tense, so that events happen now, not before now.
I was not particularly swept away by the love story, nor was I engaged with any of the characters. They felt like set pieces more than people.
This was the best of the "Red Princess" mystery books. I was engrossed in the setting (the Three Gorges area of China, shortly before the dam was finished) and I enjoyed catching up with the lead characters.
In Dragon Bones, Inspector Liu Hulan and her attorney husband David Stark investigate various crimes that may or may not be related: the theft of ancient artifacts, the rise of an unlawful cult and several gory murders. Along the way, characters explore Chinese nationalism, mythology, the greed for power, and personal sacrifice for the common good.
This was the best of the "Red Princess" mystery books. I was engrossed in the setting (the Three Gorges area of China, shortly before the dam was finished) and I enjoyed catching up with the lead characters.
In Dragon Bones, Inspector Liu Hulan and her attorney husband David Stark investigate various crimes that may or may not be related: the theft of ancient artifacts, the rise of an unlawful cult and several gory murders. Along the way, characters explore Chinese nationalism, mythology, the greed for power, and personal sacrifice for the common good.
This novel was told primarily from the point of view of a documentary filmmaker, so it was fitting that we got lots of unsavory background on the meat industry. I must have read an excerpt of it elsewhere, because one section (that had to do with the use of hormones at feedlots) was familiar.
The main characters, Jane Takagi-Little and Akiko Ueno, were very realistically portrayed, and I very much enjoyed their stories. Several of the (male) supporting characters were little more than caricatures.
I liked how Graham Storrs worked out the mechanics and physics of time travel in this novel. He nicely resolved the implications of messing with the past.
Set in Europe of 2050, the world of TimeSplash is mostly familiar but with subtle twists. Everyone's got a "compatch," which seems to be what cell phones have evolved into. Terrorists use time travel as a destructive tool, funded by unnamed deep pockets (possibly the government of the United States, which has been taken over by religious zealots).
I wasn't as much a fan of the cartoonish characters. For some reason, the misogynist Sniper could have been the deranged twin of Zaphod Beeblebrox (from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy</i); perhaps it was his evil laugh? Then there was Sandra (also known as "Patty" as in Hearst--now who in 2050 is going to want to name themselves after her??), who escapes a mental …
I liked how Graham Storrs worked out the mechanics and physics of time travel in this novel. He nicely resolved the implications of messing with the past.
Set in Europe of 2050, the world of TimeSplash is mostly familiar but with subtle twists. Everyone's got a "compatch," which seems to be what cell phones have evolved into. Terrorists use time travel as a destructive tool, funded by unnamed deep pockets (possibly the government of the United States, which has been taken over by religious zealots).
I wasn't as much a fan of the cartoonish characters. For some reason, the misogynist Sniper could have been the deranged twin of Zaphod Beeblebrox (from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy</i); perhaps it was his evil laugh? Then there was Sandra (also known as "Patty" as in Hearst--now who in 2050 is going to want to name themselves after her??), who escapes a mental institution, becomes a brilliant marksman and martial arts fighter, and--oh yeah--she's a gorgeous 19-year-old, too.
Overall, a fun read for the plot and less so for the characters.
I related to this book – even though my family never “summered” anywhere, and I’m not black, and I’m not a male. I related because, like narrator Benji and his friends, I know the word “dag.” If this expression is not in your vocabulary, hear it not as the clipped sound as if it rhymed with “bag”; it’s more like saying “dang” with a stuffy nose, and with a slight lilt to the a, drawing it out with a vocal inflection down.
“Dag” is usually followed by “that’s cold” (as in, you got served, that’s messed up).
And to young teenagers, working through the calculus of what’s “cold” versus what’s “cool” is of utmost importance. And who can’t relate to that?
Sag Harbor was refreshing and funny. Author Colson Whitehead writes with a strong sense of autobiography, but the tone is not at all wistful or maudlin. The events …
I related to this book – even though my family never “summered” anywhere, and I’m not black, and I’m not a male. I related because, like narrator Benji and his friends, I know the word “dag.” If this expression is not in your vocabulary, hear it not as the clipped sound as if it rhymed with “bag”; it’s more like saying “dang” with a stuffy nose, and with a slight lilt to the a, drawing it out with a vocal inflection down.
“Dag” is usually followed by “that’s cold” (as in, you got served, that’s messed up).
And to young teenagers, working through the calculus of what’s “cold” versus what’s “cool” is of utmost importance. And who can’t relate to that?
Sag Harbor was refreshing and funny. Author Colson Whitehead writes with a strong sense of autobiography, but the tone is not at all wistful or maudlin. The events take place in 1985, a kinder, gentler time, when parents could leave the kids unsupervised in the house all week.
Benji spends much time contemplating who he’s been and who he is yet to be. Finding his niche is important to him, as is fitting in, wearing the right clothes, listening to the right music. Calling “dibs” on the shotgun seat in the car is an art form. The boys go through some awkward dates and first jobs (conveyed as funny scenes at an ice cream stand). Benji, proud of his status as one of the oldest kids in the neighborhood, innocently observes: “Then on universal order we stopped fighting altogether. We were relieved. For one thing, we got bigger, and could do some damage.” But the damage does get worse, when the boys arm themselves with BB guns and the Labor Day bonfire begins to get out of hand.
So that’s why I relate to the book: it’s about how we all have to grow up. Dag.
It’s the summer of 1879, and Annie Fuller, a young San Francisco widow, is in …
Review of 'Maids of misfortune' on 'Goodreads'
3 stars
The gimmick of this mystery is that it takes place in Victorian-era San Francisco, so the protagonist (the widowed Annie) must work through social norms to resolve a murder. She spends time (unescorted!) with a single man - gasp! A boardinghouse owner, she also moonlights as a psychic - gasp! She wears a skirt that shows her ankle - double gasp!
Annie takes a job as a housemaid at the murdered man's house in order to continue her investigations. While this plot device moved the story along, it seems highly improbable that an educated middle-class woman would have been able to pull this off. She affects a poor-and-stupid accent around her employers while using her usual speech with the cook/valet (who does see through her act). And wouldn't her pristine hands have given her away?
I wish that the story had told us more about the city.
Overall, …
The gimmick of this mystery is that it takes place in Victorian-era San Francisco, so the protagonist (the widowed Annie) must work through social norms to resolve a murder. She spends time (unescorted!) with a single man - gasp! A boardinghouse owner, she also moonlights as a psychic - gasp! She wears a skirt that shows her ankle - double gasp!
Annie takes a job as a housemaid at the murdered man's house in order to continue her investigations. While this plot device moved the story along, it seems highly improbable that an educated middle-class woman would have been able to pull this off. She affects a poor-and-stupid accent around her employers while using her usual speech with the cook/valet (who does see through her act). And wouldn't her pristine hands have given her away?
I wish that the story had told us more about the city.
Overall, easy to read.
The sad thing about these free books is that they are in need of editing. I found several typos in my Kindle edition.
Sometimes funny, sometimes horrifying, The White Tiger is the story of how one man changed his situation in a country (India) that defines strict boundaries between groups (rich and poor, master and servant, native and foreigner, Hindu and Muslim).
To improve (or even maintain) their situation, the poor of India must resort to deception, bribery, and extortion. They wield these techniques even against family members (Balram’s grandmother favors using blackmail). To maintain their situation, the rich (or middle-class?) of India must resort to deception, bribery, and extortion. To maintain their situation, the politicians of India must resort to deception, bribery, and extortion. And so on, and so on…
The character “Pinky Madam” has one of the best names in fiction ever.
Half a Life is a great memoir of a terrible accident. On the first page, Darin Strauss tells us that, as a teenager, he killed a girl.
It was an accident, clearly. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, driving the car that just happened to be where the girl veered her bicycle.
It was a horrible, horrible situation that most people will never find themselves in. So Strauss and his family were constantly faced with the question of what to do and how to behave, and we get to be the looky-loos.
In the immediate aftermath, Strauss spent much emotional currency dealing with those who are “for” and “against” him. The lawsuit filed against him by the dead girl’s family was sad on so many levels, and emblematic of a need to “make someone pay” – even if money can never truly compensate. The lawsuit was …
Half a Life is a great memoir of a terrible accident. On the first page, Darin Strauss tells us that, as a teenager, he killed a girl.
It was an accident, clearly. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, driving the car that just happened to be where the girl veered her bicycle.
It was a horrible, horrible situation that most people will never find themselves in. So Strauss and his family were constantly faced with the question of what to do and how to behave, and we get to be the looky-loos.
In the immediate aftermath, Strauss spent much emotional currency dealing with those who are “for” and “against” him. The lawsuit filed against him by the dead girl’s family was sad on so many levels, and emblematic of a need to “make someone pay” – even if money can never truly compensate. The lawsuit was settled before the case went to trial, and although Strauss and his legal team were sure that they would prevail, Strauss regretted that no third party would ever render an independent verdict of his innocence.
Writing about the accident and its effect on his life was a form of therapy for Strauss. (I don’t want to use the sappy word “closure.”) He unflinchingly tells us things that he could have kept hidden; how he coped, with awkwardness and withdrawal, highlights the honesty of his story.
