book reviews - February
I love that, this month, I read a couple of intellectually-stimulating books about tough subjects and I still found the most to say about Chelsea Handler. Um.
Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea - Chelsea Handler (***)
I’d read quite a few 5-star reviews of this book and when, after the first chapter, it didn’t immediately grab me, I decided I would be contrary and choose to hate it. Luckily, I found a lot more to like beyond the first chapter, so I can put aside my contrarian impulses and say I found it an enjoyable read.
Vodka takes the form of a series of anecdotes from Handler’s life, encompassing friendships, relationships and, notably, alcohol. The first chapter, in which a 9-year-old Chelsea tells her entire school that she’s negotiating a movie role to play Goldie Hawn’s daughter on screen, sets the bar for Handler’s dedication to lies that are more interesting than the truth. As a result, the reader can’t quite begrudge the boldly-embroidered quality of Handler’s stories. This isn’t a truthful memoir: it’s just a book that’s supposed to make you laugh.
And it is undeniably funny - in places. Personally, I found it less laugh-out-loud funny and more occasional-chuckle amusing. In fact, many of Handler’s jokes fall woefully flat. More than once, I found myself staring at the page, thinking oh, that was a joke, rather than actually laughing. Never a good thing. (Handler is not the first stand-up comic whose jokes don’t translate well between a dark bar and the cold, hard light of publishing.) Clearly intended to be provocative, the jokes also skate along the line between inappropriately-funny and kind-of-offensive. I couldn’t always tell the degree to which Handler was being knowingly-outrageous and the degree to which she was revealing her prejudices and going for the easy, (often race-related) slur.
I loved the chapter in which Chelsea, at the age of 12, starts a babysitting service for kids older than she is. Another chapter, involving a hideous birthday party where almost every present has been re-gifted, is also brilliant. However, there are plenty of other chapters that are less-than-stellar. At one point in the book, Handler rails against an acquaintance who tells overly-long stories that have no real point. Ironically, one can easily imagine this whole book being narrated by a slightly drunk woman at a party who loves to talk about herself, even though she’s not quite as fascinating as she thinks she is.
Vodka is, in some ways, an incredibly lazy book. It has no theme to tie it together and, as a result, some of the chapters are frustratingly diffuse. And finally, let’s just say it: everyone thinks their family is ker-azy and hilarious - but, the fact is, our shared genes and experiences colour our judgment somewhat. By the final chapter, I was more than a little tired of Handler’s “oddball” (read: pretty unremarkable) father, who appears far too often in the book.
While I enjoyed Vodka as I was reading it, I suspect it will find it rather forgettable. It’s funny - but not quite funny enough. It’s zeitgeisty - but doesn’t quite find anything new to say. Pick it up for a quick, brain-free read, but don’t expect too much substance.
Gender Play: Girls and Boys in School - Barrie Thorne (***)
I read excerpts from this book when I was in college. Now, a few years on, I decided to read the whole thing on a whim. It's a good, meaty discussion of the ways that girls and boys are socialized differently in schools. It contains strands of analysis that will already be familiar to anyone with an interest in women's studies, but the specific school research gives fascinating examples of how teachers - and the learning institution itself - consciously and unconsciously divide students down gender lines.
In comparison to most sociology texts, which are generally dry, Thorne writes in a clear and engaging manner. The book is, nonetheless, slightly repetitive, including reiteration of Thorne's points that a casual (i.e. non-scholarly) reader will find unnecessary. Published more than fifteen years ago, using research from the 1980s, it's an understandably dated book. However, it's still an interesting read that even modern readers should get a lot out of.
Arms and the Woman - Kate Muir (***)
Though the subject matter (the rise of women in the military) is fascinating, I found I couldn’t warm up to this book. I suppose it’s a decent introduction to the issues surrounding female military personnel, but it’s not the meaty read I’d hoped for.
It reads like a journalist conducted a few interviews, did a bit of research and then churned out a book. That’s fine, but it means the book lacks the detail one would get if the author were a true expert on the subject. Published more than fifteen years ago, it’s not irrelevant (there’s plenty to say about female soldiers that was as pertinent in the early 90s as it is now), but it does feel frustratingly dated.
The reason I haven't read much this month is that, for the last 2&1/2 weeks, I've been wading through Nate Fick's One Bullet Away. It's great, but looooong. However, I definitely recommend it if you watched Generation Kill or read Evan Wright's book. Or, IDK, if you are genuinely interested in the military. >_>
And now I'm going to quote extraneously from it, because these two passages made me mewl loudly and are just beautiful, besides. Ugh, Classics students. *__*
When the Marines went back to their places on the line, they walked in groups of two or three. They would stand watch together, eat together, and joke together. But I was alone. I sat in the cab of the Humvee and watched them go. In Afghanistan, I had had Jim and Patrick, my fellow lieutenants. Recon was different, more independent, and combat forged bonds within platoons, not across them. Gunny Wynn and I had passed the stage of purely professional teamwork and become friends. I confided in him my doubts about the war, the company, and the members of the platoon. But never about myself. The events of the day overcame me all at once, and I struggled to breathe without crying.
...........
We pulled off into a field where irrigation dikes provided some natural cover, then set up in a square we could defend in all directions. Beyond us, a field of waist-high green grass waved in the morning breeze. The sky overhead shone blue, and sunlight glimmered on the river in the distance. It was the most beautiful spot I'd seen in Iraq. Marines not on security lounged in the grass, smelling the sweet, wet summery heat. The spot seemed quintessentially American. I expected two boys in overalls to come strolling down the road with fishing rods over their shoulders and a golden retriever trailing behind.
The yellow truck was the bucolic picture's only blemish. It had been pushed down the embankment to clear the road. Bloody handprints covered the doors to the cab. Two bodies lay at unnatural angles on the ground, flies buzzing around them. The warm sun, which felt so good on our arms and faces, drew out their stench.
Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea - Chelsea Handler (***)
I’d read quite a few 5-star reviews of this book and when, after the first chapter, it didn’t immediately grab me, I decided I would be contrary and choose to hate it. Luckily, I found a lot more to like beyond the first chapter, so I can put aside my contrarian impulses and say I found it an enjoyable read.
Vodka takes the form of a series of anecdotes from Handler’s life, encompassing friendships, relationships and, notably, alcohol. The first chapter, in which a 9-year-old Chelsea tells her entire school that she’s negotiating a movie role to play Goldie Hawn’s daughter on screen, sets the bar for Handler’s dedication to lies that are more interesting than the truth. As a result, the reader can’t quite begrudge the boldly-embroidered quality of Handler’s stories. This isn’t a truthful memoir: it’s just a book that’s supposed to make you laugh.
And it is undeniably funny - in places. Personally, I found it less laugh-out-loud funny and more occasional-chuckle amusing. In fact, many of Handler’s jokes fall woefully flat. More than once, I found myself staring at the page, thinking oh, that was a joke, rather than actually laughing. Never a good thing. (Handler is not the first stand-up comic whose jokes don’t translate well between a dark bar and the cold, hard light of publishing.) Clearly intended to be provocative, the jokes also skate along the line between inappropriately-funny and kind-of-offensive. I couldn’t always tell the degree to which Handler was being knowingly-outrageous and the degree to which she was revealing her prejudices and going for the easy, (often race-related) slur.
I loved the chapter in which Chelsea, at the age of 12, starts a babysitting service for kids older than she is. Another chapter, involving a hideous birthday party where almost every present has been re-gifted, is also brilliant. However, there are plenty of other chapters that are less-than-stellar. At one point in the book, Handler rails against an acquaintance who tells overly-long stories that have no real point. Ironically, one can easily imagine this whole book being narrated by a slightly drunk woman at a party who loves to talk about herself, even though she’s not quite as fascinating as she thinks she is.
Vodka is, in some ways, an incredibly lazy book. It has no theme to tie it together and, as a result, some of the chapters are frustratingly diffuse. And finally, let’s just say it: everyone thinks their family is ker-azy and hilarious - but, the fact is, our shared genes and experiences colour our judgment somewhat. By the final chapter, I was more than a little tired of Handler’s “oddball” (read: pretty unremarkable) father, who appears far too often in the book.
While I enjoyed Vodka as I was reading it, I suspect it will find it rather forgettable. It’s funny - but not quite funny enough. It’s zeitgeisty - but doesn’t quite find anything new to say. Pick it up for a quick, brain-free read, but don’t expect too much substance.
Gender Play: Girls and Boys in School - Barrie Thorne (***)
I read excerpts from this book when I was in college. Now, a few years on, I decided to read the whole thing on a whim. It's a good, meaty discussion of the ways that girls and boys are socialized differently in schools. It contains strands of analysis that will already be familiar to anyone with an interest in women's studies, but the specific school research gives fascinating examples of how teachers - and the learning institution itself - consciously and unconsciously divide students down gender lines.
In comparison to most sociology texts, which are generally dry, Thorne writes in a clear and engaging manner. The book is, nonetheless, slightly repetitive, including reiteration of Thorne's points that a casual (i.e. non-scholarly) reader will find unnecessary. Published more than fifteen years ago, using research from the 1980s, it's an understandably dated book. However, it's still an interesting read that even modern readers should get a lot out of.
Arms and the Woman - Kate Muir (***)
Though the subject matter (the rise of women in the military) is fascinating, I found I couldn’t warm up to this book. I suppose it’s a decent introduction to the issues surrounding female military personnel, but it’s not the meaty read I’d hoped for.
It reads like a journalist conducted a few interviews, did a bit of research and then churned out a book. That’s fine, but it means the book lacks the detail one would get if the author were a true expert on the subject. Published more than fifteen years ago, it’s not irrelevant (there’s plenty to say about female soldiers that was as pertinent in the early 90s as it is now), but it does feel frustratingly dated.
The reason I haven't read much this month is that, for the last 2&1/2 weeks, I've been wading through Nate Fick's One Bullet Away. It's great, but looooong. However, I definitely recommend it if you watched Generation Kill or read Evan Wright's book. Or, IDK, if you are genuinely interested in the military. >_>
And now I'm going to quote extraneously from it, because these two passages made me mewl loudly and are just beautiful, besides. Ugh, Classics students. *__*
When the Marines went back to their places on the line, they walked in groups of two or three. They would stand watch together, eat together, and joke together. But I was alone. I sat in the cab of the Humvee and watched them go. In Afghanistan, I had had Jim and Patrick, my fellow lieutenants. Recon was different, more independent, and combat forged bonds within platoons, not across them. Gunny Wynn and I had passed the stage of purely professional teamwork and become friends. I confided in him my doubts about the war, the company, and the members of the platoon. But never about myself. The events of the day overcame me all at once, and I struggled to breathe without crying.
...........
We pulled off into a field where irrigation dikes provided some natural cover, then set up in a square we could defend in all directions. Beyond us, a field of waist-high green grass waved in the morning breeze. The sky overhead shone blue, and sunlight glimmered on the river in the distance. It was the most beautiful spot I'd seen in Iraq. Marines not on security lounged in the grass, smelling the sweet, wet summery heat. The spot seemed quintessentially American. I expected two boys in overalls to come strolling down the road with fishing rods over their shoulders and a golden retriever trailing behind.
The yellow truck was the bucolic picture's only blemish. It had been pushed down the embankment to clear the road. Bloody handprints covered the doors to the cab. Two bodies lay at unnatural angles on the ground, flies buzzing around them. The warm sun, which felt so good on our arms and faces, drew out their stench.