First, a little book tourism: I have new travel ambitions.
Portugal.
Buenos Aires. And
Los Angeles. I've been talking with my friends about where we've gone to ebooks and where we haven't, the loss of the social aspect of reading (I hate it when I go to the Silent Reading Party and I can't tell what anyone else is reading because they have an ereader, how can I possibly beam at them over their choice of book if I don't know what it is? Other friends of mine are horrified at my librarical nosiness.), loaning and sharing books across formats, and indie bookstores in the age of Amazon. I flirted with the idea of trying to exclusively shop at indie bookstores for physical books, but I know the instant I say I'm doing that I will find myself marooned in an airport with only a broken ereader and the in-flight seat insert from Southwest to read, and I'll crack and buy something pulpy from a Hudson News, heh.
I purely loved Tom Reiss's
"The Black Count: Glory, Revolution, Betrayal, and the Real Count of Monte Cristo". The historical perspective on where much of the swashbuckle in Alexandre Dumas's swashbuckling tales came from captivates the reader. I've been reading a lot of New Orleans history recently, and this fit right in with that, providing the French and Parisian side of the treatment of people of color during the tumultuous era of the French Revolution and on into the Napoleonic wars. The meteoric rise and frustrating fall of General Dumas makes for the kind of tale you'd expect in an opera, all the more riveting for having really happened. Its influence on French literature was a surprise to me, and I'm glad the tale was finally shared. Thorough research (I particularly liked the coverage of the editing of the French memorials to their hero and what that said about French politics of the time), wonderful subject, history for adults about a beloved childhood antihero. Now I'm going to go back and read "The Count of Monte Cristo"; I wonder if there's an interlinear French ebook. Five heartstopping heroes out of five, and right out of the gate my favorite of this batch.
"The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less" contains many helpful nuggets of insight. It references studies that allow us to guide our own behaviour in ways that are likely to increase our happiness. It's also deeply creepy -- not the author's fault, but the implications of the studies fly in the face of a lot of American free-choice culture, and that's a hard pill to swallow. I already do a good number of the things the author suggests -- in most realms, I'm a satisficer (someone who optimizes for "good enough", however you define that) more than a maximizer (must be certain to have the absolute very best thing, and to know that it *is* the best one), and apparently I'm much happier thereby. (I understand a perpetual maximizer friend of mine way better as a result of having read this! That seems so incredibly stressful!) I've definitely used similar techniques to simplify my life, but the idea that we ought to have a more guided, structured, and authoritarian society for our own happiness is pretty chilling. It's kind of a social-structure conservative book that way, intentionally or not. But the author's correct that one can end up with cognitive fatigue from trying to make the best choice possible about everything all of the time, particularly when one isn't an expert in that thing. Learning about every available option is resource-intensive and high-labor, and doing that for every field is effectively a denial of service attack to memory and cope. My takeaway there was more "hm, so options should be presented when possible with a few curated ones that experts in the field would recommend, and then a roll-your-own style version if that doesn't suffice". But there, implementation devils are in the details. Lots of good stuff to chew on, but oh man I want to argue with it even while doing most of the things it says are good already. Three and a half arguments in my head with the author out of five, heh.
A gift from my Dad,
"Louisiana Rambles: Exploring America's Cajun and Creole Heartland" has given me scads of ideas for places in Louisiana to explore beyond New Orleans. Initially I was a little unthrilled that the author was himself not from the area, but on reflection I think it's a differently valuable book to have travel tips from someone discovering everything for the first time. A local would know more about each site, but a fellow tourist is likely to be more like the intended audience. The author's love for his adopted state shines through, though, and he's got a funny and disarming way of describing his outings that engages the reader and makes them want to ride along. Only downside: after reading his pages of mouthwatering description, you'll probably end up hungry. If you're going to Louisiana, there are far worse problems to have. Three and a half riverboat roars out of five.
"Hurricane Katrina: The Mississippi Story" is a thorough discussion of the Mississippi Gulf Coast counties and the aftereffects of Hurricane Katrina on them, and therefore a fairly depressing read. It speaks well of the spirit of the people determined to get through such a natural disaster, and it's well worth reading for anyone interested in disaster recovery or emergency management. However, it's not really up for debate that FEMA did a terrible job in managing the response or allocating the funds for recovery afterwards, and watching that slowly and frustratingly play out in the lives of the citizens of the coast is super frustrating. The author did a great job in interviewing people who lived through the experience, and in citing the stats and studies available, so I think he had excellent access to data and wrote a much-needed book that will be historically useful in our review of past recovery efforts and adaptations of future policy. Still, read this and then go cuddle a puppy or something -- it's a really rough go of it when it's your hometown they're discussing and you know every broken stick of it. Four "heck of a job, Brownie"s out of five.
It just keeps sounding more and more cheerful, doesn't it? [rueful grin] Now y'all see why it's been so long since I posted book reviews. I have easily ten more super depressing sounding books in my stack, too. (Dad sent me a big box of history, and he mostly reads history about terrible things that have happened. I have to alternate it with happy books about magic ponies and people who help others to get through it.) The cover of
"The Hitler Kiss" is terrible for reading in public, too... the "A Memoir of the Czech Resistance" is in tiny font, and not present at all on the spine, so if you're a super pale person reading this book in public people think you're into Nazi slashfic and avoid sitting next to you on the train. :/ *This* is the case for ebooks; I nearly put a "I AM READING ABOUT THE GOOD SIDE" post-it on the spine. I picked this up because I liked the compiler's previous book, "Intimate Enemies" about the Baroness de Pontalba and her contributions to New Orleans architecture. "The Hitler Kiss" is a very different book, a transcribed and cleaned up first person account of an older man's memories of his youthful engagement with the Czech Resistance. The authorial voice is thin in places... the compiler had to piece it together from a series of interviews, so it doesn't have an even flow. Nevertheless, the occasional rambling lends it veracity, and I learned quite a bit about what happened in Czechoslovakia during World War II. No one reads a book that's basically "Nazis vs. Red Army, fight!" expecting a good time, but it was still difficult in places to read about the optimism of the Czechs who thought that the Russians were going to save them rather than occupy them. The author's relationship with his parents, and in particular with his famous father, is centered in the story. Other than reading about what was and wasn't successful in the author's vast experience of Anne-Frank-like methods of hiding people from the Gestapo, the father-son story was my favorite part of this book. It's not a happy story, but it's an important one, and I particularly appreciated the closure brought by the "what happened after" in the history of the Czech people and the author's life individually at the end. Three and a half "oh no, I'm so sorry!"s out of five.
"American Sniper: The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U.S. Military History" is difficult to read if you don't agree with the author's unapologetic pride in his war record. I read it as a gift from my Navy-affiliated dad, but Dad and I are not always in agreement on foreign policy. The introduction gives you a fair sampling of what the second half of the book is about. I had problems right away with chronically referring to Iraqis as "savages", but the author doesn't. My ethical world is pretty shades-of-grey, he describes his as black and white. He's inarguably a total badass who loves his country and did his best in its service, but my political disagreements with the people who sent him there overwhelm that; it's kinda like 'wow, you were super effective at great risk to yourself at doing that thing I don't think we should have been doing at all, and you're pretty proud of how many people you killed'. We're just not going to agree. Three difficulties out of five.
I pre-ordered
"Urban Cycling: How to Get to Work, Save Money, and Use Your Bike for City Living" after meeting the author at one of Seattle's women bicyclist "Critical Lass" rides; I was impressed with her knowledge, friendliness, and intentions to make urban bicycling accessible to all kinds of people, and I wanted to support that. Her ethos really shines through in the book, and I'm very glad I ordered it. It's the book I wish I had had when I started being primarily bike-centric rather than car-centric in Seattle. If you're a super experienced urban rider you may find it a bit basic, but even with two years of year-round experience under my belt I still learned a lot and found many useful references to Google later. The section on repairs was particularly nice to have all spelled out, but I was surprised that my second favorite part were the profiles of different riders in different cities around the US. I've just begun to contemplate taking my bike with me when I travel, so it was neat to see how folks handle their different regional weather and terrain challenges, and gave me ideas for how I might do the same. Four and a half cheerful little bells out of five.
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