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| 1324003774
| 9781324003779
| 1324003774
| 3.90
| 927
| unknown
| Jan 25, 2022
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it was amazing
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What is a game? Seems like a simple question, right? But when you really sit down and think about it – what’s the answer? Is there a universal definiti What is a game? Seems like a simple question, right? But when you really sit down and think about it – what’s the answer? Is there a universal definition? Or is it more a case of knowing it when you see it? And furthermore, there’s an even more fundamental query – why is a game? It’s that last inquiry that seems to be at the center of Oliver Roeder’s new book “Seven Games: A Human History.” It’s an exploration of, well, seven games – checkers, backgammon, chess, Go, poker, Scrabble and bridge – and our connection to them. With each entry, Roeder offers us a look at the game’s origins – its place of birth, its precursors, its evolution – as well as introducing us to a formidable practitioner. And perhaps most fascinating, he also takes us into the realm of artificial intelligence as we meet the people who have devoted their lives to teaching machines to play these games. It’s a fascinating treatise on the importance of games and how they influence the people who play them, as well as a wonderful glimpse at some of the eccentric and idiosyncratic folks who have devoted their lives to achieving a kind of granular greatness. To Roeder and the people to whom he speaks, games are far more than mere entertainment – they are an opportunity to better understand the world, both around us and within us. Part of what makes “Seven Games” such an engaging read is the presence of fascinating figures, some of whom you may have heard of and many others of whom you almost certainly haven’t. Take Marion Tinsley, a math professor and lay preacher who is quite probably the greatest checkers player who ever lived. He won several world championships in the ‘50s, then left the game for two decades, only to come back and win more titles. By some accounts, he lost fewer than 10 matches of the thousands he played from 1950 on (and a couple of those were to the Chinook computer program, the first-ever program to win any game’s world championship against humans). Did you know that backgammon is one of the world’s oldest gambling games? Boards have been uncovered that date back to ancient Egypt, dice and all. It’s such a complex game that the AIs created to solve it wound up working for NASA. Or that Go was considered by many to be impossible for a computer to solve … right up until a group called AlphaGo did just that a few years ago? Or that chess engines and poker programs have fundamentally changed the way that the top-tier players approach their games? So many stories, both about the human champions and the men and women building the AIs intended to surpass them. The idea of a person devoting themselves fully to mastery of a game. The idea of someone seeking to literally solve a game through algorithmic and self-learning means. And both are in search of excellence, albeit via very different paths. Roeder has more than done his due diligence here, penning compelling portraits of the various people and programs at play here. And here’s the thing – we’re all familiar with these games, even if we don’t play them at the elite levels reached by those in discussion here. We have that familiarity, that frame of reference; the context that we as game players have rendered the stories being related here all the more interesting. Add to that the historical aspect of things – the games’ origins, for instance, or the titans who stood head and shoulder above their competitors within their admittedly niche sphere of influence – and you’re left with one heck of a read. It doesn’t hurt that Roeder has gifts of his own, both as a writer – he’s got an ear for narrative and a prose style that suits his subject beautifully – and as a player. Oh, did I not mention that? Roeder also devotes time to sharing his efforts to compete with the elites – he plays in the World Series of Poker and enters the National Scrabble Championship and so on – adding a level of Plimptonian participation into the mix. As someone with a general affinity for games, there was little doubt that I would find “Seven Games” to be of interest. What I didn’t anticipate was just how fun a book this was going to be, a clever and thoughtful mélange of histories and personalities and ambitions, all rolled into an extremely readable work of nonfiction. Drawing tiles or drawing cards, kinging or checkmating or simply rolling the dice – these “Seven Games” are worth playing. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Dec 23, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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Hardcover
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| 1250275725
| 9781250275721
| 1250275725
| 4.08
| 891
| unknown
| Jan 11, 2022
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really liked it
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Sports biographies tend to be a mixed bag. Sometimes, you get flowery hagiographies, other times, straight-up hit pieces. It all comes down to a confl
Sports biographies tend to be a mixed bag. Sometimes, you get flowery hagiographies, other times, straight-up hit pieces. It all comes down to a confluence of circumstances – the author, the subject and the audience – and how they come together. Take a figure like Kobe Bryant. Considered one of the greatest basketball players of all time, Bryant’s career featured plenty of controversies – his Colorado rape trial foremost among them – and he was in many ways a love him or loathe him figure, both in the context of his sport and in the greater celebrity sphere. Add to that his tragic and too-soon passing in a helicopter crash in early 2020 and his legacy only grows more complicated. How do you tell this story? With "The Rise: Kobe Bryant and the Pursuit of Immortality," longtime Philadelphia basketball writer Mike Sielski takes an altogether different tactic. This isn’t the story of Kobe’s life in the league, the tale of his successes and failures. No, this is an origin story. “The Rise” isn’t about Kobe the NBA baller, but rather, it’s about the journey that got him there. This is the story about the quiet young man who spent his first years overseas as his dad made a living dominating Italian basketball. The story of a youngster who early on decided that he was going to be as great as he could possibly be on the court. A teenager who arrived in the States with an Italian accent, a chip on his shoulder and an unwavering desire to be the best. Thanks to a deep connection to Philly’s scholastic basketball scene – high school and college alike – Sielski is uniquely suited to bring forth the story of Kobe Bryant before he was KOBE BRYANT. From his early years through his celebrated stint as part of the Lower Merion High School basketball team, “The Rise” documents Kobe’s, well … rise … with thorough reportage and insight gained only through a first-person understanding of the time and place in question. We get a chance to learn more about Joe Bryant, Kobe’s father and a player whose idiosyncratic skill set was something for which the NBA of his day wasn’t quite prepared. Despite the circumstances of Joe’s departure – he would play for years in Italy, becoming a beloved athletic figure there – one never got the impression that he pushed Kobe in that direction, though Joe and the rest of the family were unwavering in their support (though one could argue that that support came with its own brand of pressure). It’s tough to deny that that father-son dynamic served in many ways to define both men going forward. We learn about the young Kobe through the accounts of those who knew him best during that time. Sielski speaks with Kobe’s former coaches – middle school, high school, AAU – and some of his former teachers and teammates at Lower Merion. It’s here that we get a sense of who the young Kobe was – not as a player, but as a person. Even then, the embryonic beginnings of the cold-blooded, guarded Kobe of his Laker days are visible, but so too are the more sensitive underpinnings to his personality. The ego was present, but not omnipresent. And in perhaps the most compelling aspect of it all, Sielski also gained access to a series of taped interviews that Kobe gave while still in high school, offering a window onto the young man who had not yet achieved all the goals he had set, but remained utterly convinced that he would reach them. There are scores of books out there about Kobe Bryant, running the gamut from fawning to fault-finding. What “The Rise” does so elegantly is tell a part of the story that hasn’t received quite so much attention. Everyone has to come from somewhere, even a hardwood deity like Kobe Bryant; Sielski has given us the chance to examine the beginnings of Kobe’s particular brand of basketball brilliance. We don’t get much from Kobe’s family, which is too bad – most of the familial stuff has been gleaned from other sources. While there’s no disputing Sielski’s thoroughness, a bit more information drawn directly from the family would have been welcome. Still, there’s no question that Sielski finds plenty of ways to paint a vivid and largely complete portrait of young Kobe’s development into the phenom who would become an all-timer. “The Rise” offers an interesting twist on the traditional sports bio. Sielski’s admiration for his subject – and indeed, the admiration projected by all of these people – is extremely present, but we never get a sense that Kobe is being unduly elevated. Young Kobe’s faults aren’t glossed over, but rather engaged with in the context of the time and place – specifically, a teenager whose ambition at times overwhelmed all other aspects of his life. Ultimately, what we get is an in-depth look at a kid who believed himself destined to greatness … and was willing to do whatever it took to achieve it. Every legend has an origin story. “The Rise” is Kobe’s. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Dec 02, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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Hardcover
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| 0593299884
| 9780593299883
| 0593299884
| 3.64
| 600
| Nov 04, 2021
| Nov 16, 2021
|
really liked it
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One of the things that the pandemic has taken from us is our ability to travel freely. It has kept us close to home in so many ways, leaving us to rem
One of the things that the pandemic has taken from us is our ability to travel freely. It has kept us close to home in so many ways, leaving us to remember wistfully past journeys to other places. But what if you could see the world … without leaving the comfort of your favorite reading nook? That’s what David Damrosch offers with “Around the World in 80 Books.” The decorated comparative literature professor has assembled a selection of works that originated all over the globe. Some of these books are ancient classics, others are more contemporary offerings, but through each one, Damrosch takes the reader a new more steps on this Phileas Fogg-inspired journey around the world. It’s a thoughtful work of nonfiction, one that is unafraid of its own intelligence while also never deigning to condescend to its reader. That’s not an easy balance to strike, especially when one considers the massive range of the canon Damrosch has assembled. It’s worth noting too that you don’t actually have to have read all the books discussed within. In truth, unless you yourself are a scholar of comparative literature, the odds are pretty good that you have not – as I said, it is a vast array of wildly disparate work. But thanks to Damrosch’s insightful breakdowns, the context is clear even if you yourself have never consumed the actual text. “Around the World in 80 Books” consists of 16 chapters consisting of discussions of five books. Each chapter focuses on a place – sometimes a city or cities, sometimes a region – and introduces the five books that Damrosch has determined will prove evocative of that place. From our kickoff in London – featuring familiar authors like Dickens and Wodehouse and Woolf – we’re off, zigzagging our way across the world. In Paris, we spend some time with Proust. From there, Krakow and Kafka (among others). In Venice-Florence, we’re greeted by Marco Polo and Dante. From Egypt to the Congo to Israel, from Tehran to Calcutta to Beijing to Tokyo. We head to South America – Voltaire’s “Candide” is there – and on to Mexico and the Antilles before making our way to the United States, where we visit two spots; the last is New York City, but the first will ring familiar to readers in our region – Bar Harbor, a place to which Damrosch has a deep connection. (In case you’re wondering, the Bar Harbor section’s books are as follows: “One Morning in Maine,” by Robert McCloskey; “The Country of the Pointed Firs,” by Sarah Orne Jewett; “Memoirs of Hadrian,” by Marguerite Yourcenar; “The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle,” by Hugh Lofting; and E.B. White’s “Stuart Little.”) And that’s that – 80 books across five continents, all intended to serve as a sort of guided tour of the world through the literary works that it has produced. “Around the World in 80 Books” doesn’t quite fall into the category of what I call “stunt nonfiction,” but it has some of those tendencies – call it stunt-adjacent, perhaps. What it does do is open up a rich and readable understanding of how place can influence the literature that springs from it, either directly or indirectly. Whether the work is composed in the place or is simply about the place, that connection between the two cannot be disentangled. This means, among other things, that much can be discerned about a place by reading the books that spring from it. And really, that’s the whole point of “Around the World in 80 Books” – it really does give you a way in which to explore the wider world. Each book’s breakdown is engaging on its own, but it also invites the readers to find out for themselves – Damrosch has essentially given us a thoughtful and thorough introduction, one that will more than serve its purpose. But if you’d like to dig deeper, well … you’ve got the list right there in front of you. For the record, the number of these books that I myself have read comes in at just shy of half. Considering the list, I feel OK about that number. The truth is that I probably enjoyed the sections on books I hadn’t read a little bit more – such is Damrosch’s gift for conflating the work with the place from which it originated. (Some of my personal favorites: Chinua Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart,” Italo Calvino’s “Invisible Cities,” “Candide” and “Stuart Little.”) “Around the World in 80 Books” is a wonderful read for any literature lover. Fans of travel writing will likely dig it as well, though it’s far from a conventional example. Few things are more engaging than a person discussing that about which they are most passionate; for David Damrosch, that’s books. Within these pages, he takes us on a journey unlike any you’ve experienced – and it’s a trip well worth taking. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Nov 08, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 1982169974
| 9781982169978
| 1982169974
| 4.22
| 1,053
| unknown
| Nov 16, 2021
|
it was amazing
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It’s easy to forget, in this world of commonplace multimillion-dollar contracts across the professional sports landscape, that it wasn’t always about
It’s easy to forget, in this world of commonplace multimillion-dollar contracts across the professional sports landscape, that it wasn’t always about the money. Well, not entirely about the money anyway. Take the NBA, for example. Today, the league is a global powerhouse, a corporate machine featuring massive television contracts and marketing deals and individual teams worth literal billions of dollars. But it wasn’t so long ago that pro basketball was a good living, but far from providing the generational wealth it does today. It was a different time. A time worth remembering. “Wish It Lasted Forever: Life with the Larry Bird Celtics” takes a look at an iconic team in the days just before everything changed. Written by Dan Shaughnessy about his time covering the Celtics beat for the Boston Globe (1982-86), it’s an up-close-and-personal look at a time that simply doesn’t exist anymore. It’s a book packed with the sorts of stories that could never happen today, tales from the road when everyone – players, coaches and media – traveled together and dined together, staying in the same hotels and generally being a constant presence in one another’s lives. These stories – stories about what the players were really like in the locker room and at the bar after the game as well as about their performance on the court – are a fascinating snapshot of a bygone era, featuring compelling and thoughtful looks at some of the greatest to ever play the game. Rendered with the standard self-deprecatory wit and good humor by Shaughnessy, it’s a book that any Celtics fan – any NBA fan, really – will find to be fascinating reading. The Boston Celtics had a long and storied history long before Larry Bird showed up. This is a team that utterly dominated the early days of the NBA – they won two titles in the late ‘50s (1957 and 1959) and two in the ‘70s (1974 and 1976) … and NINE in the ‘60s (every season but 1967). One might think there’d be some sort of downswing, but then, in the 1979-80 season, here comes Larry Bird, the Indiana standout whose game – along with that of cross-continent rival Magic Johnson – would play a major part in catapulting the league into the stratosphere. Imagine, then, that you are Dan Shaughnessy. You’re a young up-and-comer of a sportswriter. All of a sudden, you’re tasked with covering a team that is starting to look like one of the greatest ever, all while replacing an icon on the beat in Bob Ryan. That is a one-two punch of pressure, to be sure, but one that Shaughessy weathered. Shaughessy came into the picture on the heels of yet another title in 1981 – the first for Bird. He would be there for everything that would come over the next few years. He would be there to see the team grow and thrive around the incredible skill set that Bird brought to the table. From exceptional shooting to needle-threading passing to fundamental rebounding to joyously confrontational trash talk, Larry Bird could do anything that needed doing on a basketball court. (Bird led the way in the team’s eventual agreement to refer to Shaughnessy as “Scoop,” ostensibly to recognize his dogged reporting abilities, but really just some not-quite-totally-friendly ball-busting. This was an era where writers and athletes were very much mutual backscratchers – a game that Shaughnessy wasn’t interested in playing.) The general attitude around those Celtics teams – initiated from the top down by the legendary Red Auerbach – was that basketball is a team game, a game built around contributions from everyone on the roster. A noble notion, to be sure, but when the roster looks like that one did, what you get is something transcends a mere team-first ethos. We talked about Bird, of course, but one can’t discuss this era of Celtics basketball without talking about Kevin McHale – who made his debut with the Celtics as a rookie in 1980 – and Robert Parish, who arrived that same year via a trade with the Golden State Warriors. Shaughnessy watched as this trio came together as one of the most impactful groupings in the history of professional basketball, three all-timers, Hall of Famers all. A big highlight is the arrival of Bill Walton, whose contributions to that 1985-86 squad – considered by some to be the greatest team ever assembled – were vital. It was a quote from Walton that lent itself to this book’s title, an acknowledgment that he would never be so blessed as to be part of that phenomenal a team again. Shaughnessy divides his time pretty equally between behind-the-scenes stories and on-court action. There’s some great stuff here about the burgeoning disdain he inspired in Robert Parish, who eventually flat-out refused to speak to him (even now – he did not participate in interviews for this book). Maybe the best of the bunch, however, is when Bird was suffering from an injury to his shooting hand and Shaughnessy wound up in a free throw shooting contest with him. Taped hand or no, you can probably make a pretty good guess how it played out. And when Shaughnessy puts you there on the parquet floor … man. Spectacular stuff, sweeping the reader up into the moment with an immediacy that makes it easy to forget you’re reading about events from nearly 40 years ago. The dripping sweat of the overheated Garden, the squeak of the sneakers on the floor, the titanic clashes between teams battling not just for the championship, but for dominance of the era. But while the title fights are key, so too are the accounts of moments during small, seemingly inconsequential regular season contests – no matter what the stakes, Shaughnessy finds ways to bring the game to vivid life. “Wish It Lasted Forever” is a remarkable, close-up account of one of the most iconic teams in the history of one of the NBA’s most iconic franchises. It was a special time for the Boston Celtics, featuring a handful of guys who to this day are among the greatest to ever play the game. And thanks to Dan Shaughnessy, even those who weren’t there in the moment are gifted with an intimate portrait of that team. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Oct 18, 2021
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Nov 16, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 0593312724
| 9780593312728
| 0593312724
| 3.47
| 4,108
| Nov 02, 2021
| Nov 02, 2021
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it was amazing
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People like what they like. Some people are high-minded with regard to their cultural consumption, while others revel in the lowbrow. And there are th
People like what they like. Some people are high-minded with regard to their cultural consumption, while others revel in the lowbrow. And there are those of us – I’m including myself here – who find things to like on both ends of the taste spectrum. It’s not right or wrong. It simply is. Sure, there are folks out there who will gleefully look down their nose at people who embrace items, ideas and experiences that the snobbier among us consider beneath them. It’s the conflicting differences between the hois polloi – the original Greek definition (indicating the masses or general public) and the adopted meaning (people of distinction; the elite) – writ large. But still – people like what they like, however tacky some might consider it. In “Tacky: Love Letters to the Worst Culture We Have to Offer,” Rax King offers up essays celebrating the things she loves, no matter how lowbrow they might be. These pieces illustrate a life lived not for the sake of appearances, but for the sake of enjoyment. And we’re not talking about detached, ironic enjoyment either – Rax King likes what she likes and could genuinely care less how you feel about it. Over the course of these 14 essays, King goes long and deep on things that perhaps haven’t often received the long/deep treatment. She talks about chain restaurants and comfort food and reality television, all acting as a framework wherein she can explore her own development. These pieces are smart and crass and unapologetic and wildly entertaining. Right off the bat, King makes clear where we’re going. The first essay in the collection – titled “Six Feet from the Edge” – is about her ongoing and genuine affection for the band Creed. She speaks about how it has long been a secret, almost shameful, that she has kept from those close to her. Even now, she has some difficulty being fully forthcoming about her affinity for a band that so many so-called elites sneer at (even as she expresses doubt that they hate the band as much as they proclaim to). She leans into the odd tautology that has developed around the band – they’re Creed, so they’re bad and they’re bad because they’re Creed – and digs into some of the wants and desires swirling around frontman Scott Stapp, as well as how King’s own needs intersect with her fandom. Yeah – it’s that kind of book. We get an essay about the ways in which King’s relationship with her father was shaped by a shared affection for the MTV reality show “Jersey Shore.” Other TV programs that get the business in these pages include “Sex and the City,” “America’s Next Top Model” and “Degrassi,” with each essay utilizing the love of the show as an entry point into a deeper exploration of King’s personal world. Is there an essay involving Hot Topic? Reader, you better believe it. My personal highlight is probably “Exactly as Much Spinach-and-Cheese Dip,” an essay revolving around The Cheesecake Factory and its precariously balanced spot on the dividing line between chain casual and more upscale dining. Only it’s ALSO about relationships – familial relationships and romantic ones, all deconstructed through the experience of the restaurant’s faux-fancy décor and massive menu. Truly heartfelt stuff. “Tacky” brings together cultural criticism and the personal essay and combines them into something that is greater than the sum of its parts. By digging into the specificity of her own connections to these seemingly innocuous and/or inane things, King takes the reader on a journey that is equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking. There are those who might argue that the poignancy and impact of King’s personal explorations are somehow dulled by the pop cultural framework she utilizes, but those people – snobs that they almost certainly are – will have entirely missed the point. It is because of that framework that we can gain a truer understanding of the stories King seeks to tell. Obviously, your mileage may vary regarding the effectiveness of these essays. There will almost certainly be references that don’t resonate with you over the course of these 14 pieces; I know there were a couple that simply went over my head. But that’s the point – we like what we like and who gives a damn what anyone else thinks? “Tacky” is a thoughtful and charmingly snarky read; King is a gifted storyteller who is unafraid to aim those gifts squarely at herself – a rare combination. So pull on your snakeskin pants, order up a Crispy Chicken Costoletta and crank up the Creed – Rax King will take it from there. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Oct 09, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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Paperback
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| 0593136772
| 9780593136775
| 0593136772
| 3.41
| 2,275
| Oct 26, 2021
| Oct 26, 2021
|
really liked it
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The ubiquity of the internet. It is part of our everyday lives, like it or not. Over the past quarter-century, the online explosion has radically alte
The ubiquity of the internet. It is part of our everyday lives, like it or not. Over the past quarter-century, the online explosion has radically altered the world and the way we move through it. For many of you, that has always been the world. If you were born anytime after 1990 or so, you likely have no memories of a world without the internet. Sure, you might recall the frustrating early days of dial-up modems and slow-loading websites, a time when your entire afternoon might be spent downloading a single song. But the internet is and has always been omnipresent. However, those of us who are older have clear and distinct memories of a different time and place. A time and place where the internet felt more like science fiction than simple reality. We’ve said good-bye to a lot of things from those bygone days – some of them minor, some incredibly significant – but the one factor they all have in common is that they don’t appear to be coming back. Thus we get “100 Things We've Lost to the Internet.” Pamela Paul, editor of The New York Times Book Review, offers up a collection of snapshots from the before times, quick-hit glimpses at a vast array of items and experiences that are simply … gone. They exist only in old photographs (remember those?) or increasingly dusty memories. These habits and learned behaviors, these compulsions and desires – vanished, never to be experienced by those who came after. These short essays explore the vast array of alterations wrought by the internet, all of them presented with a combination of wistfulness and self-effacing humor. Because here’s the thing – while we might miss a lot of this stuff, we also have to concede that in a lot of ways, we’re better off … even if we perhaps don’t want to admit it. And some of it? Well … some of it we sure would like to have back. From the very first entry – titled “Boredom” and reflective of the dichotomous nature of this conversation – we hit the ground running. On its face, it seems odd to bemoan the dearth of boredom – who wants to be bored? But as so many people are learning, that absence of boredom – having the breadth of the internet at one’s fingertips at all times – precludes the imaginative outbursts that boredom prompts. When there’s no need to figure out something to do, we instead … do nothing, idly scrolling our way through the hours. You might not like being bored, but in some ways, you kind of need to be every once in a while. A lot of these entries might read as minor, but others are reflective of broader changes. Number 20, for instance, is “The Phone in the Kitchen.” In an age of smartphones, precious few even have a landline anymore. But if you were a teenager back then – as I was – then that phone was a central cog in your social life. We’ve got entries on handwritten letters and penmanship and spelling – all dinosaurs in their way. As a longtime accumulator of random knowledge, certain entries – “Being the Only One,” “Figuring Out Who That Actor Is” – hit me where I live; remembering trivia is no longer nearly as impressive when everyone has the capability to find the answer in seconds. On and on the list goes, with every minor shift adding to the pile. What “100 Things We’ve Lost to the Internet” does so well is illustrate the growth of that pile; while any individual item might be no big deal, the collected set is significant. It’s a list of ways in which the world now is different from the world then – no small thing when dealing with a culture as susceptible to nostalgia as our own. Obviously, Paul isn’t saying that everything back then was better. Time marches on, after all, and it’s tough to argue against the many benefits that the internet has brought into our lives. But that isn’t really the point. It’s not about whether it used to be better, it’s that it used to be different. And so much of who we are is shaped by the experiences of our formative years; what does it mean when the shape taken by those years is so drastically different from one generation to the next? “100 Things We've Lost to the Internet” is a fun read for those of us who share some of Paul’s memories and experiences. We remember what it was like and we like to remember. The landscape has shifted, and no doubt it will shift again as technology’s exponential advancement continues on apace. This book serves as a reminder of the simple truth that when gains are made, sometimes something is lost. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Oct 02, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0735222169
| 9780735222168
| 0735222169
| 4.01
| 2,772
| Oct 12, 2021
| Oct 12, 2021
|
it was amazing
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There’s a certain flavor of nonfiction – I call it stunt nonfiction, but your mileage may vary – that is built around a particular gimmick. It’s tough
There’s a certain flavor of nonfiction – I call it stunt nonfiction, but your mileage may vary – that is built around a particular gimmick. It’s tough to articulate what it is specifically, considering how many different ways one might partake, but generally, you know it if you see it. Maybe it’s a book about making every recipe in a single cookbook or committing to saying “yes” to everything. Maybe it’s about taking the field with a professional football team as a rank amateur or tracking down everyone you find in a random pack of baseball cards. Maybe it’s about trying to follow the Bible or Oprah as closely and as literally as possible for one year. Or maybe, if you’re Douglas Wolk, it’s about reading every single Marvel comic and considering it as one expansive story. That’s what Wolk did with his new book “All of the Marvels: A Journey to the Ends of the Biggest Story Ever Told.” In an effort to demonstrate the comprehensive nature of the Marvel meta-arc over the course of the decades, Wolk read every single comic Marvel published from 1961 (considered to be the start of the true Marvel Age) through 2017, when he first decided to undertake the massive project. In all, he would read over 27,000 comics from those 50-plus years, hitting every major milestone in the history of the Marvel Universe. We’re talking about well over a half-million pages in total. And in doing so, he began to see the sprawling Proustian epic buried within that incredible page count, as well as a variety of entry points for those who are perhaps too intimidated by the vast and convoluted history of Marvel Comics – a history that manages to extend far beyond the massive-in-its-own-right Marvel Cinematic Universe. As Wolk sees it, the Marvel Comics output over this stretch is nothing less than the single longest, continuous, self-contained work of fiction ever created. Think about it. From almost the very beginning, there has been an interconnectedness to Marvel’s various titles. Events that took place in “The Amazing Spider-Man” might impact an altogether different storyline in, say, “Daredevil.” Happenings in “The Incredible Hulk” or “Thor” could well influence what happens in “The Avengers.” And don’t even get me started on company-wide crossovers, when characters are plucked from every corner of the Marvel Universe and brought together for an extended narrative. Of course, it wasn’t always so clear-cut; the early days and early attempts at cross-continuity were haphazard and a bit messy. But even then, the events of one title inevitably affected others. And here is Wolk, doing his best to read every single word. Reflected in the pages of Marvel Comics, you’ll find reflections of almost every single significant development in American culture. They might be outsized, funhouse mirror reflections – but they are reflections. Whether we’re talking about Cold War paranoia or the burgeoning counterculture or the rise of jingoism or the ubiquity of technology, it was reflected in Marvel Comics. From the coded inclusivity baked into the X-Men or the duty/honor dichotomy broken down in the ebbs and flows of Captain America, it’s all there, waiting, for anyone who cares to look. Now, Wolk is adamant that he A) greatly enjoyed this undertaking and B) would never under any circumstances recommend that anyone else do it. It’s worth noting that he didn’t read them all in order, and with good reason – there are periods of clunkiness throughout, along with some oversimplification that borders on the cornball (particularly in the earlier years). He discusses titles and crossover arcs, of course, and their connections to the world we live in. But even as he examines the broader body of work as a singular work of cultural value, he also approaches it as a fan. He explores favorite storylines and characters and creators; we get plenty of Stan Lee, obviously, but despite the mythology surrounding Stan the Man later in life, there were a LOT of people behind Marvel’s success, spanning multiple generations. Artists and writers like Steve Ditko, Jim Shooter, Chris Claremont, Todd Macfarlane … the list goes on and on. (Here’s where I note that I’m a Ditko guy, though I also have a lot of love for the transformational work that Chris Claremont did with the X-Men, steering them into a realm that left them both philosophically complex and wildly popular.) I won’t go into the nuts-and-bolts of Wolk’s thorough and thoughtful breakdown of the various eras in Marvel Comics history; honestly, while you might be able to quibble a bit with beginnings and endings, his demarcations are pretty solid; his analysis of the various foci definitely tracks. It’s wild to consider that the comic books I so loved as a kid – I started on current titles, but I also worked my way backward by way of abandoned collections from older relatives and the cheap paperbacks that brought together essential classic storylines – have become the subject of genuine scholarly interest. This kind of pop historical deconstruction would have blown the mind of young Allen, although I’d wager that that kid wouldn’t have been totally surprised. After all, I loved them and thought they had something to say – why wouldn’t other people? Part literary criticism, part wanton fanboying, part nostalgia trip, “All of the Marvels” is one fantastic read for anyone who loves comic books. Is it a stunt? Sure is – and a hell of a good one. Just an incredible idea. Spectacular. Mighty. It is smart and funny, rife with sharp analysis and engaging ideas. In short, it treats this body of work with genuine respect – respect it absolutely deserves. Make mine Marvel. Excelsior! ...more |
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not set
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Sep 21, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 1982180587
| 9781982180584
| 1982180587
| 4.74
| 3,566
| Sep 28, 2021
| Sep 28, 2021
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it was amazing
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I love baseball history. As an athletic late bloomer, my initial love of baseball came from its stories. Now, those stories came in different forms. So I love baseball history. As an athletic late bloomer, my initial love of baseball came from its stories. Now, those stories came in different forms. Some were told through first-hand accounts and memories. Others were told through numbers. Both were fascinating to a clumsy kid who loved the game a bit more than it loved him back. And yet, as much as I love baseball history … Joe Posnanski loves it more. Posnanski’s new book is “The Baseball 100,” and it’s exactly what it sounds like – a compendium of essays, a list of the greatest players in the long history of the sport, ranked according to the opinions and whims of one man. The book was born of an ongoing feature at the sports website The Athletic, where the first versions of these essays ran. It’s a wonderful collection of snapshots, purely distilled amalgams of both kinds of stories – memories and numbers – delivered with the unique aw-shucks humility and elevated dad humor of Joe Posnanski. His reverence for the game, his sheer unadulterated love for it, runs through every one of these 100 pieces. From inner circle Hall of Famers to names that might not be as familiar to the casual fan, Posnanski counts us down through the greatest of all time. From the man at 100 (Ichiro Suzuki) all the way to number one, Posnanski offers up wonderfully readable distillations of what makes each one of these players such a special part of the history of the game. Now, it should be noted that Posnanski makes particular effort to ensure that those who never got the opportunity to perform in the major leagues get their due. Scattered throughout the list are players who made their names in the Negro Leagues, men who were denied their place in the game by the prejudices of the past. For the record, I will not be spoiling his number one pick. However, to give the curious a sense of what’s coming however, I will give you his top 10 in alphabetical order. Please note that this absolutely IS NOT the official order of things – in fact, not one of these players is in the place he occupies on the list: Henry Aaron, Barry Bonds, Oscar Charleston, Ty Cobb, Walter Johnson, Willie Mays, Stan Musial, Satchel Paige, Babe Ruth and Ted Williams. That’s a who’s who of some of the greatest talents in the history of the sport, to be sure. And every one of these essays is alive and breathing, crackling with the boundless energy generated by Posnanski’s love of the game … but that is true of ALL the essays in this collection. All 100 of them, playing out over nearly 900 phenomenal pages. And before you dismiss this book as the misty-eyed mutterings of a man remembering the glory of their times, you should bear in mind that Posnanski happily mutters about some players who are currently active. His are eyes of equal opportunity misting, his definition of greatness leaving room for the players of today as well as those from days gone by. (I won’t tell you who those current players are either, though you can probably guess most of them.) Posnanski readily acknowledges the inherent subjectivity of a list like this one; there are many ways to measure baseball greatness, and while he avails himself of many such measures, he’s also not above using the list to engage with a larger point. So it is that Joe DiMaggio sits at 56, the same number as his remarkable longstanding hit streak, and the great Jackie Robinson is number 42, the uniform number that now has been retired by every major league team in recognition of the man’s iconic status. Does that mean that these are the spots where Posnanski has them actually ranked? Not so much, but he can’t resist a little symbolism, and besides, what’s the point of making this kind of list if you aren’t going to have a little fun? And that, more than anything, is what makes this book great – it’s fun. Sometimes, we get a by-the-stats breakdown of a player’s greatness. Other times, anecdotal evidence of legendary status. We’re walked through some of the game’s iconic numbers – 56, 4,256, 511, .406, 2,632, 755 – and shown how even when the significance of those numbers changes, we still remember them. We also get some of the myths behind the men – the booming power and blazing speed and brilliant arms of those who never saw the big leagues. Yes, there’s Ruth and Aaron and Williams, but there’s also Pop Lloyd and Bullet Rogan and Sadaharu Oh – names that aren’t as ingrained in the popular consciousness, but that are just as integral to the history of the game. All of them brought to vivid life by Posnanski, whose combination of passion and intelligence make him the perfect writer to embark on such a massive project. Just a remarkable project. I was always going to dig “The Baseball 100.” I’ve been enamored of baseball history for going on 40 years and I’ve been an admirer of Posnanski’s work for close to half that time. I’m fully in the bag for this one. It’s a wonderful exploration of one man’s thoughts on the greatest of all time. But here’s the thing – it’s ALSO a fantastic entry point for those just starting to engage with the sport’s past greats. Each of these essays provides a delightful combination of deep-dive wonkiness and straightforward celebratory joy – a perfect combination for anyone who loves baseball. It’s a cliché to say this, but clichés exist for a reason – “The Baseball 100” is an absolute home run. ...more |
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not set
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Sep 14, 2021
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Oct 12, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 0593232712
| 9780593232712
| 0593232712
| 4.01
| 3,362
| Oct 05, 2021
| Oct 12, 2021
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it was amazing
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We’ve all heard stories – usually intended to be inspirational in some way, shape or form – about people who have died and come back. People who have
We’ve all heard stories – usually intended to be inspirational in some way, shape or form – about people who have died and come back. People who have suffered some sort of catastrophic accident or health-related incident and briefly passed away, only to, through some combination of quality treatment and pure luck, return. The thing is, that’s often where the story stops – with the return. But what about what happens next? And what about the other people, the friends and family who, if you’ll pardon me, lived through it? Those questions and their answers serve as the foundation for Drew Magary’s "The Night the Lights Went Out: A Memoir of Life After Brain Damage." It’s the story of a fateful night a few years ago when the author suffered a massive and still-unexplained brain injury, one that led to his brief (but very real) death, followed by a medically-induced coma. It’s also the story of what happened when he woke up, as well as of the people who were there to witness what happened during that stretch of time before he came back. Not to mention his ongoing efforts toward some kind of recovery. As you might imagine, there’s a lot of darkness to be explored here. And make no mistake – the shadows run deep in some sections of this book. But here’s the thing – Magary has developed a unique voice over his years of online writing (you can currently find him doing his thing on the excellent collectively-owned website Defector, which you should 100% subscribe to), a voice that is sharp and sly and self-aware and perfectly capable of mining humor and heart from the bleakest of ores. This story really begins on the night of the Deadspin Awards in 2018 (Magary was a writer there before the mass exodus of talent that eventually led to Defector; I’m not going to go into the whole thing here, but that is also a fascinating story if you care to check it out). Magary was serving as the host for the evening’s festivities, a master of ceremonies of sorts. The event itself went off quite well by all accounts, but tragedy awaited at the karaoke bar afterparty. (And really, isn’t there always some sort of tragedy awaiting at the karaoke bar?) In an incident whose particulars remain undetermined to this day, Magary fell while waiting for the bathroom. The circumstances of the fall are unclear, but the aftermath was horrible – he fell so hard onto the concrete floor that he fractured his skull in multiple places and suffered a severe brain hemorrhage. These injuries were so catastrophic that, were it not for immediate intervention by those nearby, he almost certainly would have died. As it was, he wound up in a medically-induced coma for weeks while his family and friends stood vigil and hoped for the best. Of course, when he came to, it was only the beginning. Traumatic brain injuries are notoriously fickle and unpredictable – particularly when it comes to recovery. Magary’s struggles going forward would be difficult, and ultimately, there would be no way of knowing just how much of his former faculties he would regain. Recovery from this sort of injury is a long road, one that is rarely traveled at a steady clip. In fits and starts, Magary began finding his way back – not to normalcy as he knew it, but a new normal. And as it became clear that some changes were permanent – physically, mentally, emotionally permanent – he was left to push through his frustrations. Still, in the midst of uncertainty, he dug deep to find the one thing on which he knew he could count – his words. “The Night the Lights Went Out” is a thoughtful meditation on what it means to come back from the brink. It explores the harsh realities of survival – yes, living on after such a tragic and terrifying incident is wonderful, but there’s a lot more to recovery than simply waking up. There is a lot of work to be done, and even if everything falls in just the right way, it’s almost certain that some of the “you” from before is never coming back. It’s a kind of existential terror that most of us will never comprehend. Sounds pretty f---ing bleak, doesn’t it? And in other, less capable hands, this book would be just that – unrelentingly bleak. But since we’re talking about Drew Magary, we instead get a combination of insight and irreverence. Yes, those bleak moments are there – how could they not be? – but they’re surrounded by the charm of the mid-stage curmudgeon that he evokes so well. You might not think that a book about traumatic brain injury would be funny, but this one absolutely is. His gift for vivid coarseness serves him well, every thoroughly detailed description of trauma and traumatic events punctuated and punctured by an unwavering sense of humor. Even as he digs into his struggles – both his own and the ones reflected upon those close to him – that sense of self-deprecation remains, allowing us a holistic glimpse into his experiences. Neither overly sunny nor unduly shadowed, “The Night the Lights Went Out” is indicative of what is perhaps Magary’s greatest trait as a writer – his honesty. While his own experiences are the bulk of the book, Magary also takes great care to engage with the people who were there during the time when, well … the lights were out. By doing this – by talking to the people who were there for the incident and those who were by his side at the hospital – he adds dimension to the story that otherwise wouldn’t be there. To get the perspective of his doctors, with jargon-laden explanations of what happened and how much worse it might have been. To hear from his family members, people who sat unendingly beside his hospital bed. Or his friends, the people whose quick actions on that fateful night very well may have saved his life. It’s a layer of texture that beautifully elevates the story, providing the context that quite literally fills in the gaps. Obviously, “The Night the Lights Went Out” has a happy ending – Drew Magary is still here, still churning out Funbags and Jambaroos and telling us why our teams suck. He worked hard, yes, but he also got lucky. And one thing is for damned sure – he is absolutely cognizant of just how lucky. That sense of good fortune shines through on every page, even when the story is at a nadir. It is a meditation on survival, refracted through the skewed prism of a gifted smartass. Thanks for sharing this, Drew. We’re glad you’re still here. ...more |
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not set
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Sep 07, 2021
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Oct 12, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 1989555446
| 9781989555446
| 1989555446
| 4.24
| 93
| unknown
| Sep 2021
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really liked it
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In the world of gridiron football, the NFL reigns supreme. The league has become an entertainment behemoth, a multibillion-dollar monolith that is the
In the world of gridiron football, the NFL reigns supreme. The league has become an entertainment behemoth, a multibillion-dollar monolith that is the closest thing to monoculture that North America experiences anymore. But to the north, there is another football league with a storied history of its own. The Canadian Football League has been around for a long time too – decades longer than its more prominent neighbor to the south – though it has never developed the same sort of all-encompassing hold on the general population. As the NFL exploded in popularity in the 1970s and into the ‘80s, the CFL – once an entity on more-or-less equal footing with its counterpart – began losing ground. But in the early ‘90s, thanks to a bizarre confluence of timing and circumstance and a handful of bold and ill-conceived choices, a celebrated college star headed north and the CFL briefly found itself the talk of the sports world. “Year of the Rocket: When John Candy, Wayne Gretzky, and a Crooked Tycoon Pulled Off the Craziest Season in Football History” by Paul Woods is the story of that moment, where a trio of celebrated owners took control of one of the CFL’s most storied franchises and used their combined clout and cash to convince Notre Dame’s Raghib “Rocket” Ismail, one of college football’s biggest stars, to sign with them. Woods goes deep into the situation, documenting the struggles that came from dealing with the sky-high expectations across the board; on the field and off, behind the scenes and in front of the world, these were circumstances unlike any ever experienced by the CFL. It was a whole new world – some of it good, some of it bad, all of it compelling. 1991 was shaping up to be a rough year for the CFL. The venerable football league was in a financial tailspin, with every team in the league dealing with some degree of economic hardship. Even the league’s flagship organization, the Toronto Argonauts, was in danger of succumbing to these harsh realities. And then – it all changed. A new ownership group took command of the Argos, including two of the most iconic Canadians of the day. There was John Candy, the beloved comedian and Toronto native who was a lifelong fan of the Argonauts, and there was Wayne Gretzky, the Great One, the consensus best hockey player of all time. Tough to find a pair that would be more engaging to a Canadian crowd. The third member of the trio was Bruce McNall, a rare coin and antiquities magnate who also owned the NHL’s L.A. Kings. Suddenly, there was a new excitement surrounding the league. Still, there’s only so much buzz that can be generated by an ownership group. Ultimately, it comes down to the players on the field … but this threesome had a plan for that. And so it was that Raghib Ismail, better known as “The Rocket,” – Notre Dame star, Heisman Trophy runner-up and one of the most hyped college football players ever – wound up the subject of a bidding war, one that found the Argonauts making him the highest-paid player in the history of football before he’d ever played a professional down. But as it turned out, while there was room for short-term success, there was an underlying reality to the situation that would leave almost everyone involved dealing with some degree of disappointment. And while this period was relatively short in chronological terms, the impact from the situation would reverberate through the league for many years afterward. As someone with a well-documented fondness for the CFL, “Year of the Rocket” was always going to hit right with me. Doubly so considering that in 1991, I – while not yet enamored of the gridiron of the Great White North – was only just ascending into general sports fandom and was rather fascinated by Rocket Ismail. This is a story I remember in the moment, though only the initial splash – the aftermath was something that I never knew. Until now. Woods has written a remarkably thorough deconstruction of the turbulent chaos that was the early-90s CFL. It is an eminently readable time capsule, a breakdown of the unique set of circumstances that led to such a wild ride – some of it on the field and so much more of it off. He handles so many aspects of the situation with deft delicacy. There was the massive pressure on Ismail to live up to the terms of his contract, both as a player and as a league ambassador. There was the genuine passion of Candy, who completely and utterly adored his time as an owner; his was a very real love of the game. There was the general shiftiness surrounding McNall – shiftiness whose depths would become apparent in the years that would follow. All of the ownership stuff – particularly anything involving Candy, who comes off as a combination of CFL Pied Piper and Dionysian saint. Oh, and in the middle of all of it, an Argonauts team surrounded by a publicity circus the likes of which the league had never seen was trying to win a Grey Cup. Well-reported and engaging, “Year of the Rocket” captures a moment in time unlike any in the history of any sports league – Canadian or otherwise. It brings together many of the main players, delving into their memories of a stretch that – however briefly – changed the landscape of professional athletics. For fans of the CFL – or of sports in general – “Year of the Rocket” provides a concise and comprehensive account of one of the weirdest moments in pro sports, a time when a single massive splash produced ripples that expand outward to this day. ...more |
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not set
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Aug 04, 2021
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Sep 22, 2021
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Paperback
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| 0385545193
| 9780385545198
| 0385545193
| 4.19
| 508
| unknown
| Jul 13, 2021
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it was amazing
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I’m a sucker for sports history. It doesn’t even really matter the sport – I generally lean toward the Big Four, but honestly, any discussion of the a
I’m a sucker for sports history. It doesn’t even really matter the sport – I generally lean toward the Big Four, but honestly, any discussion of the athletic past will work. I have my sporting foci – baseball and football foremost among them – but as a general fan, I can derive joy from coverage of just about any athletic endeavor. The moral to the story is simple: With the right pairing of subject matter and author, a work of sports nonfiction can really sing. Longtime Boston sports journalist Leigh Montville is one of the best to ever do the gig, with a decades-long body of work covering some of the most iconic moments in American sports. His latest book is “Tall Men, Short Shorts – The 1969 NBA Finals: Wilt, Russ, Lakers, Celtics, and a Very Young Sports Reporter,” a look back at the series that would ultimately mark the ending of the lengthy Celtics NBA dynasty of the 1950s and 1960s. A series that saw a certain bright young man – just 24 years of age and setting out on what would become an iconic career as an ink-stained wretch – crisscrossing the country as part of the now-legendary NBA Finals matchup between the Boston Celtics and the Los Angeles Lakers in 1969. It’s also a wonderful bit of autobiographical writing, a reflection on the beginnings of a storied career. Those moments of memory and memoir are what elevate this book from what would be a perfectly adequate work of sports history into something more, a wry look back from someone who understands that the person he once was had a lot to learn. Basically, it was like this. The year was 1969. The Boston Celtics were an NBA juggernaut, the proverbial 900-pound gorilla – they went where they wanted when they wanted. And where they wanted to go was the NBA Finals. In the previous 12 seasons, Boston had won 10 titles. From Cousy to Heinsohn to Havlicek to keeping up with the Joneses (K.C. and Sam), the Celtics were stacked with legends – none more legendary than Bill Russell. By 1969, many argued that Boston’s time had passed. Russell had taken on the role of coach alongside his duties playing center; Red Auerbach had moved from the bench a while prior. The team finished a mere fourth in their division, squeaking into the playoffs. Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Lakers of that time were poised for a breakout. Not only did they have the elite talents of Jerry West and Elgin Baylor on their roster, but they had added the human cheat code that was Wilt Chamberlain, perhaps the most purely physically talented player in NBA history. With his addition, L.A. had assembled the first dream team. To many, this seemed like it had to be the year of the Lakers. Sure, they’d faced the Celtics in five NBA Finals series in the 1960s and lost all five, but with Wilt the Stilt on their side, they finally had a way to counteract Bill Russell. The sky was the limit. In the midst of all of this was a newly-minted reporter for the Boston Globe, one with maybe a bit (or more than a bit) of unearned confidence in his abilities, making his way from coast to coast in an effort to cover what might be the end of the Celtics dynasty. “Tall Men, Short Shorts” is full of basketball, of course – dynamic and engaging accounts of a see-saw battle between great teams featuring some of the best players to ever hit the hardwood. Montville’s memories of those games are as enthralling a snapshot as anything you’ll find in the most meticulously researched work of sports history. Perhaps my favorite conceit is the use of the actual newspaper stories filed on each day as the introduction to each chapter. Some of these stories are game recaps, sure, but others – perhaps the more interesting – are the ones filed on the off days, in the in-between moments when nothing’s happening on the court, but the printing press still hungers. Those two things – basketball and the act of writing about basketball – come together beautifully throughout the book. It’s a clever and compelling marriage, with the basketball action blending with the journalistic realities and becoming a story that is somehow both and neither. Because there’s more here. Mostly about Russell, who was, while playing and coaching an NBA Finals team, also dealing with the racial and cultural impact of his status as a prominent and vocal Black man in a time and place that wasn’t always ready for such things. This is the first-ever Black coach in the NBA we’re talking about here – there’s a LOT on the man’s plate. There’s a delightful tone of bemusement throughout as Montville the elder statesman and journalistic legend looks back on the BYM he once was; he shares freely his memories of the arrogance and envy that that young man carried with him. It’s an acknowledgement of just how far he has come, a charming and self-deprecating recognition of his own decades-long evolution as a writer. “Tall Men, Short Shorts” is a killer basketball book, to be sure. It’s the story of a series that remains in the conversation for best NBA Finals ever, despite being over a half-century in the rearview. But it’s also a look back by a remarkable writer, one whose inflated ego gradually settled into the humility and self-awareness that would let him become one of the best to ever do it. I won’t say that this is the best union of subject and author ever, but I’d be hard pressed to name a better one. ...more |
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not set
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Jul 13, 2021
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Jul 21, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 1419747924
| 9781419747922
| 1419747924
| 4.22
| 1,610
| 2021
| Jul 06, 2021
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it was amazing
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A lot of the best comedy comes from darkness. For many of our funniest, the shadows are where they find the biggest laughs. As it turns out, one can m
A lot of the best comedy comes from darkness. For many of our funniest, the shadows are where they find the biggest laughs. As it turns out, one can mine a lot of jokes from battling with one’s demons. Comedy connoisseurs are certainly aware of Tom Scharpling. He’s likely best known as the creator of the beloved long-running radio show-turned-podcast “The Best Show,” where he and his partner Jon Wurster have spent some two decades crafting a bizarre and absurdist call-in program that is probably one of your favorite comedian’s favorite things. And now, he’s written a memoir. “It Never Ends: A Memoir with Nice Memories!” gives readers a window into who Scharpling really is. It’s an exploration of a troubled past rendered with self-deprecating frankness, walking us along the path that brought him to his current place. There’s an earnestness to it all, despite the constant self-awareness – an unwavering honesty, even in the face of clear misgivings about sharing these stories in their entirety. Oh, and it is also wildly funny. At the drop of a hat, Scharpling can pivot from a heartfelt expression of vulnerability to a weird and hilarious aside. It’s a book that keeps the reader constantly off-balance, much like Scharpling’s comedy; ordinarily, that isn’t an ideal way to construct a book, particularly a memoir, but here, it’s the perfect choice. One could argue that “It Never Ends” is framed by Scharpling’s revelation about his lifelong struggle with mental illness. That story – from his youthful issues with depression to his treatment via electroshock therapy to his ongoing battles against the darkness throughout his adulthood – is one that he confesses up front to never having really shared before. There’s a nakedness to it, a leap-before-looking energy wherein it seems that he almost can’t believe he’s telling us all of this even as he’s telling us all of this. However, while there is a confessional vibe to this – and it serves as a through-thread for the entire book – it cannot be stressed enough that while Scharpling talks about his fight with depression, there is nothing depressing about “It Never Ends.” We learn about how he got his start as a creative, writing for punk zines and covering the NBA for various outlets. And of course, we’re given insight into the evolution of “The Best Show,” from the origins of his relationship with partner-in-crime (and noted rock drummer) Wurster to the struggles that came with putting so much work into something for which he wasn’t being paid – the show was on a community radio station for years – to the show’s move into the podcasting realm (though one could argue that Scharpling was basically podcasting before that was even a thing). There are delightful digressions throughout, where Scharpling veers off from the core story of his life to delve into details that could have been throwaways, but instead serve as wonderfully weird vignettes that illustrate perfectly just what kind of guy he is. There’s the part where he talks about auditioning to be part of the ill-fated MTV program “The New Monkees” – you kids probably won’t remember that one, but those of us of a certain age absolutely do. He talks about his stretch as a writer on the TV show “Monk” – a personal favorite, by the way – and shares his regrets that he can’t talk trash about it because apparently the show’s star Tony Shaloub is a genuinely delightful person. Branded slot machines, Billy Joel disdain, claiming Bugs Bunny for both Jews and Italians … like I said, wonderfully weird. Probably my favorite of all of these is the one where he talks about the period where he was obsessed with coin-pusher machines – you know the ones, where a moving platform contains coins and other prizes and you drop quarters in to try and cause stuff to drop. If you’ve ever been on a boardwalk or at a ticket-based arcade, you’ve seen them. The richness of his descriptions – of his own behaviors, of the machines and the other people who share his fascination – paints a bizarre and entertaining picture. “It Never Ends” is the story of an outsider who found his way in – kind of. Someone like Tom Scharpling, with that sort of unique and unapologetic sensibility, was never going to be fully embraced in a mainstream way. And that’s OK – he certainly doesn’t seem to mind. Because while he has had a fair amount of what we traditionally think of as success, it has almost always been on his own terms. “It Never Ends” does eventually end, but it’s the kind of book where you almost wish it didn’t. ...more |
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not set
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Jul 03, 2021
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Jul 21, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 1538735490
| 9781538735497
| 1538735490
| 4.05
| 6,698
| May 11, 2021
| May 11, 2021
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it was amazing
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Video games are big business. Now, anyone with any sort of cultural awareness understands that the video game industry is a big one, but when you stop Video games are big business. Now, anyone with any sort of cultural awareness understands that the video game industry is a big one, but when you stop to really look, the numbers are staggering. We’re talking a LOT of zeroes here, to the tune of some $180 billion (yes, with a B) just last year. That number outstrips the global movie industry. It outstrips the North American sports industry. And oh yeah – it’s more than those two COMBINED. So yeah – big money. But with big money comes big pressure. The companies that make these games, whether we’re talking about the major-name studios doing the distribution at the top or the multitude of smaller shops that tend to the lion’s share of the developmental work to bring these games to life, are faced with massive expectations. When those expectations are not met, there are of course consequences, but even success is no guarantee. Jason Schreier’s “Press Reset: Ruin and Recovery in the Video Game Industry” takes a look behind the scenes at the video game industry, digging deep and investigating the stories that spring from every game development experience. Some of them are good, some not-so-good, all populated by designers and developers who want nothing more than to make great games – even if the success of those games doesn’t always trickle down to them. Through first-rate reporting and dozens of first-hand interviews, Schreier walks us through the process of making games through the eyes of the people who make them. We also get to explore the business side of things, watching as executives insert themselves into the process regardless of whether they actually know anything about video games. As they say – mo’ money, mo’ problems. “Press Reset” is a book driven by failure; even the successes wind up defined by the downfalls that followed or bookended them. And we’re talking major successes – games like “BioShock Infinite” and “Dead Space” that were legitimate hits. Even these big wins often lead to major losses, up to and including the shuttering of entire studios. We meet a number of the people involved in the creation of these games, even as we’re shown just how transient and ultimately unreliable the industry is when it comes to the boots-on-the-ground talent that actually makes the games. We meet the people who pour years of their lives into creating something, only to be shown the door. People whose creative visions are corrupted in order to make a more profitable product. People whose games are changed for the worse before release or even never seeing release at all. There’s a lot of upper-level cluelessness in the mix as well, with the suits upstairs often willing to sacrifice quality and quirkiness for the chance at making a few more bucks. And speaking of upper-level cluelessness … Perhaps the most interesting part of the book for me personally was the incredibly detailed account of the sordid saga of 38 Studios. I love baseball, dig video games and live in New England – of course this story was going to speak to me. But while I had heard a fair amount about the rapid rise and even more rapid fall of former MLB pitcher Curt Schilling’s efforts to enter the MMORPG space and usurp the “World of Warcraft” throne, Schreier goes into far finer detail with the story. From the early promise to the questionable planning to the political and financial fallout, “Press Reset” gives you as thorough a picture of the whole mess as you could ever want. There’s a lot of that here, honestly. No one is going to mistake this for a cheery book, though Schreier’s love for games is readily apparent. But to write an honest portrayal of the industry, one must be unafraid to delve into the negative. And the truth is that there are a LOT of negatives that come with the territory. It’s a book that makes one question why anyone would get involved in making video games in the first place. And yet, so many of the people to whom Schreier speaks clearly love what they do. Their passion for video games outweighs the myriad pitfalls. The insecurity, the opacity, the constant moving and the rising costs of living – none of it matters to these people, who even when in the midst of a months-long crunch or an unexpected studio closure are fully invested in what they do. Schreier is one of the best video game reporters out there, with a long history of quality work for an assortment of outlets. If there was a big story regarding the industry, chances are good that he was the one to break it. His sterling reputation and years of source cultivation makes him one of the few people with the juice to even attempt writing a book like this, let alone the skill to bring it to completion. Punchy and thoughtful, informative and entertaining, “Press Reset” will make an excellent read for anyone with even the slightest interest in the inner workings of the video game scene. Schreier’s wealth of experience and army of sources make him one of the few writers – hell, perhaps the only writer – capable of crafting such an insightful and intimate portrait from within a traditionally opaque and relatively secretive industry. Game on. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Jun 21, 2021
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Jun 23, 2021
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Paperback
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| 0063001276
| 9780063001275
| 0063001276
| 3.98
| 421
| unknown
| Jun 15, 2021
|
really liked it
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Sports biographies are tricky things. The history of professional sports in this country is built on a foundation of legacy. The lionization of athleti Sports biographies are tricky things. The history of professional sports in this country is built on a foundation of legacy. The lionization of athletic giants is an underlying tenet of pro sports, with the games in a constant conversation with their own history. Protecting that history – that legacy – is paramount to many if not most pro athletes. At the same time, leaving that history unexamined does a disservice to the reader. A simple and glowing account of an athlete’s feats, all buffed glossiness, is nothing more than hagiography – overly simplistic, unchallenging … and incredibly dull. And it only gets trickier when the subject isn’t directly involved. That’s the juggling act Scott Howard-Cooper has undertaken with his new book “Steve Kerr: A Life.” It’s the story of the rich and fascinating life lived by Steve Kerr. From his globetrotting boyhood to an underdog basketball journey to the pinnacle of his profession, Kerr’s is a tale almost too interesting to be real, marked by triumph and tragedy. Telling that story without a direct contribution from Kerr is a bold choice, one that Howard-Cooper hasn’t undertaken lightly. Thanks to his decades-long history and sterling reputation in the sportswriting sphere, he’s one of the few writers with the combination of juice and talent to make a project like this work. The book delivers precisely what the title promises – this is the life of Steve Kerr. He was born the son of academics, people who traveled the world. He grew up bouncing between Europe, the Middle East and southern California. But all the while, his passion for basketball was growing – as was his talent. He turned that talent into a scintillating high school career, but his perceived limitations – lack of speed and athleticism and defensive acumen – outweighed his obvious shooting skill for most college coaches. Lucky circumstances landed him a last-ditch end-of-the-bench spot at Arizona, playing for Lute Olson. He turned from a scrub to a starter, part of the program’s renaissance. It was also during his time at UA that Steve Kerr came to the attention of the nation, but not for his actions on the court. It wasn’t about him at all in fact; Kerr’s father, serving as the president of the American University in Beirut, was killed by an assassin. Burying his grief, Kerr soon returned to the court and pressed onward – basketball was his only refuge from sad reality. He was drafted by the NBA in the second round; Kerr hoped to squeeze out a season or two in the league before turning to broadcasting or coaching or front office work. He’d do all those things, but not until after he wrapped up a 15-year career with a reputation for three-point sharpshooting and intensely inquisitive basketball intelligence. Oh, and five rings. From there, he spent time as the general manager of the Phoenix Suns and a few years as an exceptional member of NBA broadcast teams. His first (and still only) head coaching job was taking over the Golden State Warriors – he just wrapped up his seventh season on the bench. In five of those seasons, the Warriors won the Wester Conference. And in three, they were NBA champs. In that span, we also saw Kerr become considerably more outspoken about the issues of the day, expressing his thoughts about gun violence and occasionally sniping at (and getting sniped at by) the President of the United States. He also dealt with significant back injuries, with a procedure to fix a herniated disc leading to years of agony, pain so great that he missed significant time, unable to do his job. “Steve Kerr: A Life” would have been a different book with more buy-in from Kerr and the Warriors organization. That’s not in dispute. However, there’s no disputing the care and thoroughness with which Howard-Cooper has assembled this work. Diligently assembling over 100 in-person interviews to go with piles of annotated research, Howard-Cooper has put together a comprehensive look at one of the most interesting men in professional sports today. The author’s admiration for his subject is clear, but while his appreciation of Kerr is effusive throughout, Howard-Cooper does manage to avoid falling into the trap of starry-eyed hagiography. Kerr’s imperfections might be relatively few, but they are there; Howard-Cooper shares them with us just as readily as the lauding pages of accolades. “Steve Kerr: A Life” is a straightforward sports biography, a book that doesn’t reinvent the wheel but still gives the reader ample insight into its subject. If this is a book that interests you, you’ve likely read a number of very similar works already, if not in terms of subject, then at least in terms of style and tone. There are a lot of VERY bad sports bios out there, but rest assured that this is not one of them. A breezy, fast-moving read that – much like its titular namesake – makes the majority of its shots. ...more |
Notes are private!
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not set
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Jun 18, 2021
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Jun 23, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 0385546793
| 9780385546799
| 0385546793
| 4.14
| 1,000
| Jun 01, 2021
| Jun 08, 2021
|
really liked it
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Ever since the early days of baseball, there have been those who seek to gain a competitive advantage through various forms of chicanery. And while th
Ever since the early days of baseball, there have been those who seek to gain a competitive advantage through various forms of chicanery. And while there are certainly rules regarding the way in which the game is played and the conduct maintained while playing it, players have always pushed the envelope, seeking to come as close to the line as possible … and sometimes crossing it. The largest cheating scandal of the past few years involved the Houston Astros, who put together an elaborate scheme combining high- and low-tech techniques to steal the signs of their opponents and gain an advantage – an advantage that took them all the way to a World Series championship before later revelations brought the whole thing tumbling down. Andy Martino’s new book “Cheated: The Inside Story of the Astros Scandal and a Colorful History of Sign Stealing” takes the reader inside that scheme, introduces us to the primary figures in its execution and discusses its aftermath. It also takes a trip through the history of sign stealing, a form of gamesmanship that has always been a part of the sport even as it has invited controversy along the way. It’s a well-reported and well-written book, one that details the extent of the Astros’ sins while also showing that while this recent scandal might be the one most prominent in our memories, it is far from the only time that a team has crossed a line in its efforts to gain a better understanding of (and advantage over) their opponents. Sign stealing has been a part of baseball since its inception. Generations of players have sought to gain whatever edge they can through figuring out a way to inform their hitters about what pitch is going to be thrown. And the general attitude of those in the game has always been that if you can crack the code, you’re welcome to the fruits of your labors. However, while doing so with your eyes and your wits is viewed as gamesmanship, the use of technological assistance is forbidden. Strangely, in a profession packed with wildly, almost pathologically competitive individuals, it turns out that just telling people not to do something isn’t enough of a disincentive if they think it will win them ballgames. And it has won some big ones. The primary focus in “Cheated” is the Astros scandal, of course. And Martino does a fantastic job of really getting granular with regard to how the scheme was hatched, how it evolved and how the primary players engaged with it. In brief, it worked like this: team operatives would study video of the game in real time, seeking to decipher the signs of the opposition. Once that was achieved, they could determine which pitch was coming. That information was then conveyed to the player at the plate via noise – they used a number of methods, but the most popular seemed to be simply banging on a plastic trashcan. Armed with the knowledge of what was coming, the batter could adjust accordingly. Again, an ingenious marriage of high-tech and low. Veteran player Carlos Beltran and bench coach Alex Cora are generally considered the ringleaders; many (but not all) players took advantage to varying extents. Manager A.J. Hinch was aware but disapproving; GM Jeff Luhnow attempted to claim a degree of ignorance. All of it played out on the grand stage, with alleged cheaters and victims both coming to the forefront and altering the perception of the game. It’s all fascinating stuff, rendered all the more engaging by the context that Martino constructs. He reaches back through the history of the game and pulls examples of technologically-assisted sign-stealing from the past. Early on, the Phillies had a scheme that involved a bench player with opera glasses, a modified telegraph and a buzzer buried beneath the third base coach’s box – an elegant, innovative and totally unethical plan. And of course, the previous champion as far as sign-stealing scandals, the decades-later revelation that 1951’s legendary “Shot Heard Round the World” hit by New York Giant Bobby Thompson off Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher Ralph Branca – a home run that would send the Giants to the World Series – was influenced by the fact that Thompson likely knew what was coming. The Giants had a setup in their home park that involved a center-field telescope and a particular scoreboard light. But it is the Astros who sit at the center of “Cheated.” Martino gets really granular here, relying on a significant depth of reportage. He meticulously reconstructs events while also finding ways to delve into the mindsets of the primary figures involved. It wonderfully captures the slippery slope nature of the scandal, the ethical erosion gradual in a way that allowed the main players not to grasp the full nature of their offense – or at the very least, allowed them to delude themselves with a variety of excuses. There are a lot of gray areas in the rules of baseball, both written and unwritten. “Cheated” is a compelling look at what can happen to a team when they wade into the murky middle and allow their competitiveness to push them over the line. The Houston Astros cheated and their 2017 title will be forever tainted because of that; thanks to the work of Andy Martino and others like him, we’ve all gotten a fuller, more detailed picture of just how that came to pass. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Jun 14, 2021
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Jun 23, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 1523508388
| 9781523508389
| 1523508388
| 3.74
| 155
| unknown
| May 11, 2021
|
really liked it
|
I love the Olympics. There’s something so captivating about watching someone at the peak of their performance do what it is that they do best. This not I love the Olympics. There’s something so captivating about watching someone at the peak of their performance do what it is that they do best. This notion of being recognized as the literal best in the world at something – fascinating. And that’s what the Olympics do. They celebrate the glory of athletic achievement (as well as nationalistic jingoism and bureaucratic graft, but still). There’s more to the Olympics than the winners, however. For every famous gold medalist’s face gracing a Wheaties box, there are scores of stories of those who were just as excellent, yet now linter in obscurity. Not to mention those who, for whatever reason, never quite reached the same iconic pinnacle. And just like anything that has been around for more than a century (or centuries, if you start counting from its Greek origins), a lot has changed – both good and bad. These are the sorts of stories that you’ll find in Jeremy Fuchs’s new book “Total Olympics: Every Obscure, Hilarious, Dramatic and Inspiring Tale Worth Knowing.” Yes, you’ll get stories of the giants of various eras – Jim Thorpe, Jesse Owens, Mark Spitz, Mary Lou Retton, Michael Phelps – but you’ll also be reminded of (or learn for the first time) names of exceptional athletes with less longstanding cultural resonance. In addition, Fuchs has brought forward numerous tales of Olympic history, digging into some of the behind-the-scenes chicanery that came with hosting the event and revisiting some of the wild and weird competitions that were once part of the proceedings. It’s a compact and fun trip through the history of the Games, a catch-all of trivia, biographical sketches and fascinating forgotten moments. Anyone with affection for the Olympics will find plenty to enjoy in these pages. “Total Olympics” is broken into six chapters, each with its own focus. First up is “Forgotten History,” where we look back at aspects of past Games that have been largely lost to time. Stuff like the pure hustle that led to Squaw Valley securing the bid for the 1960 Games, a house of cards scheme that somehow held together long enough to prove successful. The so-called “Austerity Games” – the 1948 London Olympics, the first since the end of World War II. The legendary 1956 water polo match – dubbed “Blood in the Water” – between Hungary and the Soviet Union just as the latter country was attempting to put down the former. Chapter three is “Wild and Strange,” wherein we get a look at some of the oddest happenings in the history of the Olympics. We meet Shizo Kanikuri, a Japanese marathoner who began his race in 1912 … and finished in in 1967. We learn that George Patton – as in General Patton – was an Olympic athlete who competed in the pentathlon. The Swedish pentathlete who was the first to be disqualified for drinking. The Cold War love story between a hammer thrower from Boston and a Czechoslovakian discus thrower. The list goes on. “Discontinued Sports” is a hoot, offering looks at some of the sports that were once a part of the illustrious annals of Olympic history, but are no longer. You probably are aware of some – tug of war is one that everyone is delighted to learn was once part of the Games – but there are others that you’ve never even considered. The rope climb. Plunging for distance. The obstacle swim. Dueling and live pigeon shooting. Solo synchronized swimming. Incongruous things like firefighting and auto racing. And, in perhaps my favorite of them all, art – the Pentathlon of the Muses, with medals awarded for painting, sculpture, music, architecture and literature, was part of every Games from 1912 to 1948. Other chapters like “Legends,” “Firsts” and “Forgotten Heroes” also bring together a vast array of trivial tidbits. “Total Olympics” is absolutely jammed with sporting history. The risk one runs with trying to cover such a broad spectrum is that the items blur together, but Fuchs has constructed the book in such a way as to balance our engagement, eschewing chronology for a more holistic approach. And it works – it sometimes seems as if there is a surprise on every page. These are the stories that make the Olympics special. They are the stories that give us the perspective on the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat alike, all in the context of the world’s greatest sporting event. While the Games may not carry the luster they once did, books like this one remind us of why we love the Olympic Games – and why we hopefully anticipate the rescheduled Tokyo Games coming our way in just a couple of months. “Total Olympics” is a delightful read, packed with quick hits and covering every bit of weirdness and obscura you could hope to find. Olympics fans will likely find some of these tales to be familiar ones, but even the most hardcore Games nerd will almost certainly find themselves baffled and delighted by some of the items that Fuchs has assembled here. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Jun 03, 2021
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Jun 08, 2021
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0062984454
| 9780062984456
| 0062984454
| 3.58
| 1,522
| May 25, 2021
| May 25, 2021
|
it was amazing
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Some of the best narrative nonfiction springs from when an author is able to get really granular with the subject at hand. When the writer digs deep,
Some of the best narrative nonfiction springs from when an author is able to get really granular with the subject at hand. When the writer digs deep, vein after vein of precious literary gems can be unearthed, painting vivid and compelling portraits of people and places. These stories are captivating and enlightening in the best of ways. Some of the WORST narrative nonfiction starts in the same place. These are the stories wherein the author treats the subject(s) as some sort of vaguely anthropological study, holding themselves above the people with whom they are engaging. They parachute into a place and imagine that their brief dalliance is enough to bestow actual understanding. The State of Maine has unfortunately seen a bit more of the latter treatment than the former in recent years, with this place and its denizens being rendered simplistically and/or stereotypically – junk shop kitsch instead of fine art. I honestly wasn’t sure which I was going to get from “Downeast: Five Maine Girls and the Unseen Story of Rural America,” the new book from Gigi Georges. I’ve been around long enough to know that these efforts to somehow “unlock” the truth of rural America often wind up being little more than condescending confirmations of the author’s already-extant attitudes, cherry picked to prop up whatever thesis they sported upon their arrival. This book is not that. Instead, what Georges has done is, well … do the work. Over the course of years, she spent time with the people of Washington County. Not just the five girls who served as the central figures in the narrative – although she clearly spent A LOT of time with them – but also the people in the community around them. Parents and teachers and friends and co-workers and what have you, all in service to crafting an accurate and honest rendering of who these girls are and how they both shape and are shaped by the place in which they grew up. (Note: The names of the girls – along with some others – have been changed in an effort to protect privacy. However, for the most part, names of places and business and the like have remained the same.) Washington County is among the country’s most rural areas. Distance and circumstance conspire to undercut the opportunities for young people in the region – particularly those of young women. That isn’t to say that success can’t be found – it can and often is. However, finding the best path to that success can be a bit more difficult than in many other places. In “Downeast,” we meet five girls – Willow, Vivian, Mckenna, Audrey and Josie – who have grown up in the various villages and towns of Washington County. While the specifics of their backgrounds are different, the general state of their circumstances is very similar – they are women growing up in a place where opportunity for women is tougher to come by. Audrey is the star basketball player who helped lead the local high school to a state championship and has the opportunity to turn her athletic and academic excellence into a shot at one of the state’s best colleges. Mckenna is an elite athlete in her own right, a top-shelf softball pitcher whose primary goal is to take to the water and captain her own lobster boat, just like her father. Willow has spent much of her life bouncing around, dealing with the issues that spring from her father’s struggles with addiction and abuse; she’s just looking to find her own way. Vivian is a creative soul, a writer who finds herself drifting away from the close-knit family and church life she’s lived since childhood. And Josie is the valedictorian, an elite student heading off to the Ivy League and unsure of the connection she will maintain with the place she called home for so long. And unfurling behind and amidst these stories, the lush landscape of Washington County. The rugged natural beauty and the working waterfronts. The joys and heartbreaks that come from small town lives lived. And the people – oh, the people. We meet fishermen and teachers and coaches (and plenty of folks who are combinations therein), all of whom wear their hearts on their sleeves when it comes to Downeast life. Triumphs and tragedies abound. “Downeast” could easily have been the usual dreck featuring someone from elsewhere (who believes themselves to know better) parachuting in for a few weeks or months and slapping together a story that confirmed what they believed they already know. Part of me feared it would be. Instead, we get a thoughtful, nuanced look at a deceptively complex place and the people who live there. What Gigi Georges has done is make a good faith effort to drill down into the cultural bedrock of Washington County and share the warts-and-all results of her labors. The book is honest in both singing the region’s praises and acknowledging its faults. By placing her focus on these five different-but-similar girls, Georges has crafted a wide-ranging portrait of what it means to live in such a place in the 21st century. We’re offered real insight into these lives, full and genuine characterizations of five frankly remarkable young women (though I doubt any of them would view themselves as such). Far from poverty tourism or half-baked cultural anthropology, “Downeast” engages with the lives of its subjects from a place of respect and egalitarianism. There’s no sense of superiority on the part of the author here, no effort to place herself above the people about whom she’s writing. And that eye-to-eye engagement is why this book works. Well, that and the fact that Gigi Georges can really write. She has a particular knack for capturing a, for lack of a better term, vibe – as someone who has spent his share of time in Washington County, I can vouch for the fact that the energy of the place really crackles forth from the page. The characters come alive as well. These are real people, of course – this is nonfiction after all – but they actually FEEL real, which is far rarer than you might think. “Downeast” is a fascinating read. It will capture the imaginations of those who have never set foot in Washington County, to be sure, but it will also ring familiar to those who have never left it. Growing up is hard; what this book does so well is illustrate the specific difficulties of doing so in this place and time. An insightful, incisive work of nonfiction that celebrates five special young women and the ways of their world. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Jun 2021
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Jun 08, 2021
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0593080769
| 9780593080764
| 0593080769
| 3.40
| 10,285
| Apr 13, 2021
| Apr 13, 2021
|
really liked it
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The personal essay boom of the past decade or so certainly makes sense as part of the ongoing explosion of internet content. The current landscape is
The personal essay boom of the past decade or so certainly makes sense as part of the ongoing explosion of internet content. The current landscape is ideally conducive to, well … talking about yourself, taking the old adage “Write what you know” to its most extreme logical conclusion. This isn’t always a good thing. Too often, this sort of writing devolves into solipsism, a kind of self-celebratory navel-gazing that winds up reading equal parts indulgent and disingenuous. But on those occasions that it works, it’s as impactful as any formal autobiography, giving readers a glimpse at the kind of unexpected truth that can only come from someone else’s experience. The essays in Lauren Hough’s new collection “Leaving Isn’t the Hardest Thing: Essays” work. This selection of 11 stories drawn from Gough’s checkered and fascinating life coalesces in a remarkable way. Through these tales of a unique journey – a childhood spent in a cult leads to a turn in the military followed by a rough-and-tumble awakening of her sexuality, all while simply trying to understand the world in ways many of us take for granted. Hough’s lacerating wit hits many targets, though none so often or so bitingly as herself. There’s a brutality to her honesty and to her self-deprecation that is compelling as hell to engage with. These alternatingly heartbreaking and hilarious tales stand strong on their own, but as a unit, they form a multi-faceted memoir-in-stories that is a true delight. We’ll start from the beginning. Specifically, the fact that Hough spent much of her childhood and adolescence entangled with the infamous cult known as The Children of God, one of the many quasi-religious entities that sprang up in America in the aftermath of the ‘60s. As such, she spent her developmental years moving from country to country all over the world, living in cramped quarters and dealing with the emotional and physical abuse not just condoned but encouraged by cult leadership. As you might imagine, that sort of upbringing fundamentally alters your ability to relate to the world around you. And when that sense of remove is compounded by the struggle to come to terms with one’s sexuality, finding a real connection with people proves difficult. At least it does in Hough’s case, who spends the first decade or so of her adult life on a bit of a wandering quest for some kind of meaning. She enlists in the Air Force, drawn to the regimentation and subversion of individuality, only to be forced out by bigotry. She spends time as a bouncer in a gay club, a gig that enables both her sexual awakening and her burgeoning affinity for drugs. In perhaps the most well-known of the essays – sporting the self-explanatory title “Cable Guy” – Hough relates some of the experiences she had while working as a cable installer. There’s obvious overlap between these essays, with assorted elements of Hough’s life popping up throughout. I’ll note that they’re all exceptional pieces of work – poignant and hilarious and weird, all bundled together in unexpected combinations – though of course, I have my favorites. The aforementioned “Cable Guy” was my introduction to Hough, so I have fondness for that one. “Pet Snakes,” a paean of sorts to a particular brand of small-time drug dealer, is bleakly funny (and more than a little familiar). The titular essay is an emotionally fraught look at what it means to extricate yourself from the abusive machinations and manipulations of cult life and how it isn’t nearly as simple as it seems. But in all of these essays, we are left with at least one unmistakable understanding: Lauren Hough is one hell of a writer. The ability to lay bare one’s soul for the world to see – particularly when so much of what you are sharing springs from your own very real traumas – is a rare gift; Hough does so with empathy and emotional honesty while also being outright hilarious in spots. Defining ourselves is one of the most difficult things that any of us ever try to do. Digging into the bedrock of our identity – who we REALLY are – can be painful and challenging. However, as Hough illustrates through every one of these 11 essays, it is an effort that can be incredibly rewarding (and, of course, more than a little strange). I’ve been lucky enough to review a number of unconventional and excellent memoirs in recent months; while this collection may not fit the traditional notion of memoir, it’s tough to deny that that is precisely what it is. There’s a remarkable light/dark dichotomy at play throughout – a dichotomy that, like it or not, is reflective of the American experience writ large these days. “Leaving Isn’t the Hardest Thing” is a wonderful assemblage of work from a gifted writer. Weird and genuine and idiosyncratic, it’s a quality reading experience of the finest kind. If you are interested in a unique and uniquely human read, this collection is for you. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Apr 17, 2021
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Apr 22, 2021
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 1250312345
| 9781250312341
| 1250312345
| 4.25
| 13,183
| Apr 06, 2021
| Apr 06, 2021
|
it was amazing
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https://www.themaineedge.com/style/fr... “Life’s a journey, not a destination.” It’s a sentiment that we’ve all heard a million times before, this idea https://www.themaineedge.com/style/fr... “Life’s a journey, not a destination.” It’s a sentiment that we’ve all heard a million times before, this idea that where we wind up is less important than how we got there. And it’s a true one, albeit a bit of a cliché at this point. Sometimes, though, we have no idea what someone’s journey actually entails until that person shares their story. Erin French is known for her celebrated restaurant The Lost Kitchen, based in a renovated grist mill in the tiny Maine town of Freedom. She has received accolades from all over the culinary universe, with big names and big outlets all clamoring to shower her with praise for the amazing dining experience that she has built in her tiny corner of the world. What you might not now is just how much she went through to get here. “Finding Freedom: A Cook’s Story; Remaking a Life from Scratch” is the story of French’s journey in her own words. It is a story of one woman’s voyage of self-discovery and the many dizzying highs and shattering lows that came along the way. It’s a work of reflection and at-times brutal honesty, dotted with revelations and confessions. There are tears aplenty, but also more than a few laughs as well; it’s a portrait of a sometimes fractured and always full life. Through it all, the indomitable spirit of Erin French shines through. Even in those moments where she seems to be at her lowest, when her world is crumbling around her, that fortitude is obvious. This is a woman who took every shot that life could throw at her and simply refused to stay down. That resilience is on full display throughout this book, and it is only that resilience that allowed her to become the person that she is today. Erin French grew up on a farm in Freedom, wandering those acres and beginning what would become a lifelong love affair with the bounty of nature. It wasn’t always an easy life – she struggled to gain the approval of her distant father even as her mother quietly offered a degree of support. When her father bought the town’s diner, things briefly improved before the restaurant began to consume him, as these sorts of businesses have been known to do. In many ways, French came of age in the kitchen of that diner, learning how to cook as she helped drive the family business. She had loftier ambitions – college in Boston, maybe med school – that she worked diligently to achieve. And before long, she stood at the precipice of reaching the goals she had long ago set for herself. But as often happens, life had other plans. She got pregnant and dropped out of college. Just like that, dreams of becoming a doctor are gone. She has a son to provide for, a child who becomes the light of her life. To do that, she turns toward the work with which she’s been familiar for years – the kitchen. What follows is a staggering series of ups and downs. French finds stretches of success, but those stretches are undone by circumstances. We’re given a window into her struggles – the depression, the relationship turmoil, the addiction, the abuse – as she seeks out the spot where she’s meant to be. Crumbling marriage, business misfires, substance abuse struggles, legal battles … she’s faced with it all. And even as she is confronted with obstacle after obstacle, she simply continues; no matter how Sisyphean it all might seem, Erin French never stops pushing. “Finding Freedom” is a marvelous read, an emotionally charged story that is equal parts heartbreaking and uplifting. It is ultimately a tale of success, yes, but one could argue that the foreknowledge of that success only increases the impactfulness of the frankly stunning struggles French endured to arrive at this place. I believe that there is a storytelling acumen inherent to small-town Mainers; we’re raised amidst the constant spinning of yarns, so it’s only natural that some of that narrative proclivity rubs off on us. While French styles herself as a bit of an introvert, there’s no denying that she can tell a tale – particularly when it is about the things she holds most dear. For much of her life, she has been telling those tales through cooking, with each meal a story of its own. The fact that she’s almost as good at putting these stories on the page as she is the plate is both impressive and ultimately unsurprising. Anyone who has eaten at her restaurant knows the gentle passion that radiates from her when she addresses her diners. I’ve been lucky enough to experience The Lost Kitchen twice and feel that passion firsthand. That wonderful warmth is rendered all the more powerful by the many obstacles she has faced on her journey. And that warmth comes through on the page. Did I cry while reading “Finding Freedom”? Absolutely, and not just during the “sad” moments. Sure, there are tragic events that elicit tears, but the surprise for me was how moved I was by some of the snapshots of joy. When she talks about the connection she feels with those she feeds, of food as representative of something both greater and granular … the tingle of emotion is undeniable. Happy tears are something of a rarity, but French’s passion brings them forth. Sharing something as honest as “Finding Freedom” has to be difficult, laying oneself bare and putting a warts-and-all account of a difficult journey. But in pushing through that difficulty, Erin French found her passion, her voice, her soul. She found her freedom. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Apr 07, 2021
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Apr 08, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 1984881965
| 9781984881960
| 1984881965
| 3.96
| 1,868
| Sep 24, 2020
| Mar 16, 2021
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really liked it
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https://www.themaineedge.com/tekk/the... Ever since we became aware of there being something beyond the confines of our world, we have been fascinated https://www.themaineedge.com/tekk/the... Ever since we became aware of there being something beyond the confines of our world, we have been fascinated by the idea of aliens. We are compelled by these thoughts of life on other planets, and in an infinite universe, that life is almost certainly out there. But what form will that life take? We have no way of knowing the specifics – the universe is too vast and varied for that – but one scientist argues that what we know about our own world can give us some general ideas about the life that may exist on others. Dr. Arik Kershenbaum’s "The Zoologist’s Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal about Aliens – and Ourselves" is an attempt to use what we understand about the rules of this planet and apply that understanding to the potentialities of alien life. He does so through simple extrapolation, taking into account fundamental laws of nature and spinning them forward into general theories about the life that might be found elsewhere. Rest assured, Dr. Kershenbaum is not trying to tell you that he knows what is out there. Quite the opposite, in fact – he makes it very clear that much about alien life in unknowable. But through an exploration of what we know to be true about our own world and the life on it, he offers up some thoughts about how certain basics might well be the same. In some ways, it boils down to Darwin: the idea that natural selection – evolution – would almost certainly apply to the development of life in other places. He argues that if you accept evolution as a reality here on Earth, then you must accept that it would be the path to life elsewhere as well. And if you accept that, then we have a certain very basic idea of how life might develop on other worlds. As for the nature of that life, well … we don’t know. The building blocks of life that kickstart that process of natural selection could be very different than the ones that we understand. Those specific details are beyond our ken, a fact that Kershenbaum happily acknowledges. However, he also recognizes some underlying truths that almost certainly must apply to alien life as completely as they do to our own. For instance, movement. While the makeup of the medium through which we move might be different, the physical states of those media are the same throughout the universe. Gas, liquid, solid – all of them fluid to varying degrees. It seems safe to posit that parallel evolution would arrive at similar methods for animals to make their way from place to place through whichever fluid in which they live. Of course, when you take in the possibility that these aliens might not have the same A/B symmetry that most Earth animals do, then who knows? And communication. What senses will we share with alien creatures? Will they operate with some combination of the five senses with which we are familiar? Or will their communication take other forms entirely? The argument would seem to be in favor of methods similar to our own – natural selection again – but the truth is that wildly different environments might bring wild divergence to the table. Still, even that wild divergence seems likely to carry some common ground with that with which we are familiar. Kershenbaum continues down this path throughout “The Zoologist’s Guide to the Galaxy,” relying on his own depth of knowledge with regard to the nature of animal life here and finding ways that it likely will apply more universally. It’s not a treatise on the specifics of what alien animals will be, but rather the generalities of the qualities physics and evolutionary biology indicate they could well share with us. Obviously, we don’t KNOW – we’ve yet to get the keys to the Tralfamadorian Zoo, alas – but Kershenbaum puts a lot of work into determining plausibility. The book strikes a fine balance, going into enough depth with the science to engage intellectually while never forgetting the fundamental fun that comes with this sort of speculation (the Douglas Adams allusion of the title is undoubtedly intentional). Dr. Kershenbaum gives the impression of a scientist and academic who has managed to maintain his sense of wonder, making him an ideal creator for this sort of work. He takes his flights of fancy, to be sure – and a work like this needs those flights – but even when he sails into the clouds, his feet remain firmly planted upon a foundation of sound scientific thought. Again, it’s all guesswork, but it would be difficult to find a more educated guesser than Kershenbaum. “The Zoologist’s Guide to the Galaxy” is a pop science delight, a book unafraid to have fun with its premise even as it refuses to lower its expectations of its audience. Obviously, Arik Kershenbaum doesn’t know what alien animals will look like or how they will behave – no one does – but this is as thoughtful and engaging a set of hypotheses you’re likely to find on the subject. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Mar 28, 2021
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Apr 08, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 3.90
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it was amazing
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Dec 23, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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| 4.08
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really liked it
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Dec 02, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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| 3.64
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really liked it
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Nov 08, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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| 4.22
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it was amazing
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Oct 18, 2021
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Nov 16, 2021
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| 3.47
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it was amazing
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Oct 09, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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| 3.41
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really liked it
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Oct 02, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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| 4.01
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it was amazing
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Sep 21, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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| 4.74
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it was amazing
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Sep 14, 2021
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Oct 12, 2021
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| 4.01
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it was amazing
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Sep 07, 2021
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Oct 12, 2021
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| 4.24
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really liked it
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Aug 04, 2021
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Sep 22, 2021
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| 4.19
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it was amazing
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Jul 13, 2021
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Jul 21, 2021
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| 4.22
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it was amazing
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Jul 03, 2021
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Jul 21, 2021
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| 4.05
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it was amazing
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Jun 21, 2021
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Jun 23, 2021
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| 3.98
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really liked it
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Jun 18, 2021
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Jun 23, 2021
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| 4.14
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really liked it
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Jun 14, 2021
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Jun 23, 2021
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| 3.74
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really liked it
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Jun 03, 2021
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Jun 08, 2021
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| 3.58
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it was amazing
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Jun 2021
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Jun 08, 2021
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| 3.40
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really liked it
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Apr 17, 2021
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Apr 22, 2021
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| 4.25
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it was amazing
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Apr 07, 2021
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Apr 08, 2021
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| 3.96
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really liked it
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Mar 28, 2021
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Apr 08, 2021
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