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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
| ||||||||||||||
| 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
| ||||||||||||||
| 152474915X
| 9781524749156
| 152474915X
| 3.35
| 340
| Mar 23, 2021
| Dec 14, 2021
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really liked it
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All the best fiction is built around interesting ideas and/or individuals. It’s just the amount of time and space devoted to them that varies. While n
All the best fiction is built around interesting ideas and/or individuals. It’s just the amount of time and space devoted to them that varies. While novels spend hundreds of pages delving into their core concepts and characters, short fiction tends to provide a much quicker hit. And sometimes, the quicker hit is the one that hits hardest. Tom Bissell’s new collection “Creative Types: And Other Stories” delivers a septet of such hits; we watch as people are forced to confront the realities around them on both micro and macro levels, leaving them to explore the impacts of actions on themselves and their larger worlds. Whether we’re in the offices of a literary magazine or a Roman hotel room, discussing an interview with a masked vigilante or the aftermath of a PR misfire on the stage of “Saturday Night Live,” what Bissell does so wonderfully in “Creative Types” is illustrate just how much turmoil exists beneath the seeming placid surface attitudes of those who operate in a creative orbit. The collection kicks off with “A Bridge Under Water,” a portrait of a marriage whose participants begin to question whether their union was a good idea as it all unravels on an Italian holiday. “Punishment” is the story of a grown man confronting the realities of his past as a middle school bully when his former partner-in-crime turns up for a visit. The collection’s titular tale revolves around a couple whose quest to spice up their love lives turns into a conflict with the escort they’ve invited to join them. “Love Story, With Cocaine” watches as a wealthy daughter of industry winds up entangled with a mysterious American courtesy to a dog attack and a pile of cocaine. “The Hack” follows the misadventures of the assistant to a famous movie star (who is DEFINITELY James Franco) after an unapproved joke about the infamous Sony hack makes it into said star’s “SNL” opening monologue. And “The Fifth Category” sees a mid-level government lawyer – the one responsible for deconstructing the legality (not the morality) of “enhanced interrogation.” And in “My Interview with the Avenger” – my personal favorite of the seven – we get a glossy magazine profile in which the writer interviews a reclusive masked vigilante. It’s an engaging parody of that kind of breathless feature writing while also serving as an exploration of the nature of vigilantism. There’s a healthy dose of questioning celebrity culture as well. Granted, as a superhero fan of long standing AND a writer myself, this was always going to land with me, but Bissell has crafted something truly engaging and thought-provoking here. But the truth is that all of the stories in “Creative Types” are engaging and thought-provoking, delivered with deft prose and wicked humor. The real joy of collections like this is the fact that you’re given not one authorial vision, but seven – all of them different, yet undeniably bound by the style and substance of Bissell’s singular talents. To leap from story to story, from perspective to perspective, from character to character – it’s some of the most fun you can have as a reader of literary fiction, particularly when it is being delivered by someone as gifted as Bissell. The people in these stories are both flawed and inevitably forced to confront those flaws (though often not particularly successfully). These confrontations bring forward larger notions that run the gamut, though most if not all seem to be grounded in the consequences of choice – consequences that we don’t always anticipate. Bissell also has a real knack for crafting complex relationships, finding ways to evoke the layers of interpersonal interaction in just a few sentences. In stories like “A Bridge Under Water” and the titular tale, we’re privy to the complicated nature of these relationships almost instantly, which allows everyone – Bissell and the reader alike – to more quickly dig into the meat of the matter. There’s something slyly subversive about many of these stories as well; while some are fairly overt about the ideological challenges they present, Bissell also finds ways to fold subtler concepts into the proceedings. And perhaps most importantly, they all succeed as stories – they’re beautifully crafted and narratively compelling even as they wade into deeper philosophical waters. “Creative Types” is precisely what you hope to get when you dive into a collection of short fiction – a vast and varied spectrum of stories, all connected by intelligence, wit and a distinctive voice. Tom Bissell is one of the best in the business; this book is a reflection of that excellence. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Nov 17, 2021
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Jan 27, 2022
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0593299884
| 9780593299883
| 0593299884
| 3.64
| 600
| Nov 04, 2021
| Nov 16, 2021
|
really liked it
|
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
| ||||||||||||||
| 1250766508
| 9781250766502
| 1250766508
| 3.84
| 805
| Nov 16, 2021
| Nov 16, 2021
|
it was amazing
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First things first: I love short fiction. There’s something wonderful about reading exquisitely crafted pieces that are not one word longer than they
First things first: I love short fiction. There’s something wonderful about reading exquisitely crafted pieces that are not one word longer than they need to be. Maybe it’s 5,000 words, maybe it’s 500 – whatever it takes to tell the tale. And while short fiction operates in the context of all genres, I’d argue that no genre is better suited for it than speculative fiction; the idea-driven nature of it allows for significant flexibility regarding how the stories are designed to play out. Now, I’m a fan of anthologies, to be sure – there’s a lot of fun to be had when the works of a score of disparate authors is collected under one figurative roof, after all – but there’s nothing quite like sitting down to read an assemblage of short works by a singe author. You get to see the writer’s stylistic quirks and ideological idiosyncrasies laid out over the course of 10 or 12 or 15 tales, a snapshot of their ethos along with their stylistic strengths. And in that respect, “Even Greater Mistakes” by Charlie Jane Anders definitely delivers. The complexity of the concepts explored through the work of Anders makes for thought-provoking reading, to be sure – the author is unafraid to challenge the reader. She is particularly fascinated by the fluidity of gender and the interpersonal dynamics that spring from that fluidity; she also has a knack for finding the (admittedly dry and dark) humor inherent to various flavors of apocalypse. Her ability to wield genre tropes and generalizations in unconventional ways makes every story contained herein an absolute treat. Take the very first story in the collection, titled “As Good As New.” It’s the story of a young woman who, through pure good fortune of circumstance, survives an apocalyptic event. Upon venturing out of her bunker, she happens upon a bottle – a bottle containing a genie. What follows is a thoughtful and quietly hilarious unpacking of wish logistics and the unanticipated consequences even the best of intentions might carry with them. Another highlight is the marvelous “Six Months, Three Days,” a story about the perfect couple that also happens to be diametrically opposed. Specifically, Judy is able to look ahead and see all possible futures laid out before her, while Doug is able to view with precision the one and only true future. Sweet and sad and utterly paradoxical, it’s an unusual love story, yes – but it is definitely a love story. In the collection’s longest work – a novella, really – we have “Rock Manning Goes For Broke.” Now, this story is a lot of things, but basically, imagine if Johnny Knoxville of “Jackass” fame became a favorite filmmaker of the masses in a bleak authoritarian future. The slapstick stunting – inspired by legends like Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd – becomes an object of interest to both sides in an ongoing and ever-expanding culture war. A war with brutal societal consequences. And on and on we go. What if a group of time travel cosplayers stumbled into a situation that involved actual time travel? Check out “The Time Travelers Club.” How about if, in a future, fractured America, a bookstore straddled the unsteady border between two new nations? “The Bookstore at the End of America” lays it out for you. Ever wonder what would happen if a werewolf bit a fairy and a vampire was zombified and then the two fought? Here’s the aptly-titled “Fairy Werewolf vs. Vampire Zombie.” “Even Greater Mistakes” is an exquisite collection, an assemblage of outstanding short fiction. Anders is a gifted prose stylist, one with a vast imagination to go with her technical craft. The worlds in which these stories operate are rich and vivid, beautifully realized without tiresome minutiae. With just a few sentences, Anders can clearly and concisely convey her vision of place; it’s a rare talent indeed, but one that she with which she is generous. She’s also unafraid to delve into cultural complexities without handholding. Perhaps the best example is in “Love Might Be Too Strong a Word,” a story set in deep space that nevertheless revolves around the difficulties that can arise when a society’s genders and sexualities are rigidly hierarchized; Anders offers up assorted genders and pronouns without feeling the need to spell it all out for the reader. It’s indicative of a respect both for the reader and for the subject matter. Of course, while the commitment of Anders to the dissemination of ideas and to thoughtful prose construction is certainly admirable, none of it works unless the stories themselves are compelling. Unsurprisingly, Anders is a hell of a storyteller as well, folding these wonderful concepts and ideological deconstructions into top-notch speculative narratives. Challenging as they may be, these stories are a hell of a good time, propulsive and darkly funny. “Even Greater Mistakes” is a best-case scenario for a reader such as myself, a wide-ranging collection of stories that are equal parts intellectual stimulation, comedic interlude and rip-roaring yarn. You probably don’t need me to tell you how unusual such a combination is. So if you’re a fan of high-quality speculative short fiction, tuck into some Charlie Jane Anders. Oh, and if you’ve never experienced her before? You’re welcome. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Oct 26, 2021
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Nov 16, 2021
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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
| ||||||||||||||
| 0593312724
| 9780593312728
| 0593312724
| 3.47
| 4,108
| Nov 02, 2021
| Nov 02, 2021
|
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 |
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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
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| 0316264539
| 9780316264532
| 0316264539
| 3.92
| 16,554
| Oct 12, 2021
| Oct 12, 2021
|
really liked it
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As a rule, I’m what you might call an omnivorous reader. My choices aren’t usually constrained by genre – I’ll read pretty much anything. That said, I
As a rule, I’m what you might call an omnivorous reader. My choices aren’t usually constrained by genre – I’ll read pretty much anything. That said, I do have certain types of book that I generally don’t pick up. For instance, I don’t often get into jargon-heavy thrillers – the Tom Clancys and Clive Cusslers of the world. Just not my scene. I also tend to steer clear of fiction written by famous people who are not famous for being writers – I’ve been burned by too many vanity novels. So the idea of a book that COMBINES those two things should be a hard no, right? Maybe so – but every rule has its exceptions. “The Apollo Murders” is the fiction debut of decorated astronaut Chris Hadfield. It’s an alternate history of sorts, a reimagining of the Apollo 18 mission that is packed full of mystery and Cold War intrigue. It’s a new wrinkle to the space race in a world where it’s no longer about getting to space, but rather about controlling it. Hadfield taps into his own experiences and vast knowledge base to craft a story that is absolutely overflowing with period-accurate detail while also offering up enough twists and turns to make for an engaging thriller. He blends real-life individuals with fictional creations to tell a tale rendered all the more compelling for its general plausibility. The year is 1973. NASA is gearing up for another Apollo mission – Apollo 18. The three-man crew is scheduled to make a trip to the Moon. But while the world believes this to be yet another scientific expedition, the truth is something far more complex. Flight director Kazimieras Zemeckis – known to most as Kaz – has been brought in to run the show for this latest mission. He’s a former astronaut, one who was poised to make a trip to space before a freak accident cost him an eye. His intellect and passion for space was undeterred however, leading him on a journey that led him to a PhD and stints serving with assorted U.S. intelligence and defense agencies. That unique skill set makes him an ideal fit to run this mission. This military mission. It has been determined that the Russians have made some impressive and heretofore secret advances. They’ve landed an unmanned rover on the lunar surface, where they have discovered … something. Something they’re very interested in. But even worse, they’ve put a spy satellite in orbit, a satellite that, when properly manned, will be able to gain incredibly damaging intelligence on their American adversaries. And so, shrouded in secrecy, Kaz must help this trio of military men-turned-astronauts prepare for the most dangerous mission of their lives, a mission that will take them hundreds of thousands of miles from home. Out into the void, into the harshest possible environment, a place where the smallest technical error can result in instant, horrible death, all to maintain their country’s tenuous lead in the space race. But as the date of the mission approaches, it turns out that there are far more factors at play than anyone could have expected. And when you’re in the blackness of space, with your life in the hands of others … what if you don’t really know what those others are truly capable of? “The Apollo Murders” is a fun read. While I generally eschew these sorts of spec-loaded books, I am happy to make exceptions when the circumstances warrant. And in case you were wondering – when the guy laying out the vintage space jargon is an actual astronaut, the circumstances warrant. Space nerds are going to be enthralled; Hadfield goes deep on the various and sundry details of early ‘70s space technology – on BOTH sides. It can admittedly feel like a bit much; very few stones are left unturned with regard to the equipment being utilized. Occasionally, the narrative loses some steam in the face of the wave of tech specs, but only occasionally. Most of the time, Hadfield’s solid storytelling sense keeps things moving. The plot features its fair share of twists, developing taut thrills as it goes. The historical accuracy is also a huge factor, serving as a sort of shorthand that elevates the stakes; we move from Houston to Moscow to space throughout, with every stop offering another piece of the puzzle. Plus, Hadfield does a good job of making sure that characters both real and fictional are given genuine development and thoughtful motivations. All of that comes together to create an engaging and entertaining picture. Now, there are some issues here as well. As mentioned before, the book can get bogged down in minutiae. There’s a romantic subplot of sorts that feels a bit shoehorned in and a couple of developments that read as a touch far-fetched, particularly when so much of the book feels so grounded in reality. And the book’s climax and conclusion come extremely fast – perhaps a bit too fast to land with fully realized impact. Still – all relatively minor concerns with what is overall a delightful read. “The Apollo Murders” is great fun. Sure, it’s a jargon-riddled thriller by a famous person, but it’s an incredibly good example of that – good enough to help me get over myself and my admitted snobbery. If you’re someone with an interest in space history or someone who digs thrillers or someone who just digs a straight-up adventure, strap in – Chris Hadfield is going to take you to the Moon and back. ...more |
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1
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not set
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Sep 25, 2021
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Nov 10, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 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 |
Notes are private!
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1
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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
|
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 |
Notes are private!
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1
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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
| ||||||||||||||
| 0593232712
| 9780593232712
| 0593232712
| 4.01
| 3,362
| Oct 05, 2021
| Oct 12, 2021
|
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 |
Notes are private!
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1
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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
| ||||||||||||||
| 1982168439
| 9781982168438
| 1982168439
| 4.26
| 230,901
| Sep 28, 2021
| Sep 28, 2021
|
it was amazing
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“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” – Joan Didion Storytelling is baked into the human condition. Throughout the centuries, we have told one “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” – Joan Didion Storytelling is baked into the human condition. Throughout the centuries, we have told one another stories intended to educate us or entertain us or simply to help us endure. They are the ties that bind us, the threads of the tapestry into which we are all woven. Stories have power – power that drives us to preserve them, even in the most difficult of circumstances. Anthony Doerr understands that power as well as anyone. His new book is “Cloud Cuckoo Land,” a segmented saga of wild ambition and staggering scope, spanning centuries as it follows a varied cast of characters through their trials and triumphs. From 15th century Constantinople to a 22nd century starship – with a few stopovers in mid-20th and early 21st century Idaho – Doerr takes us on a journey driven by the power of story. The stories we are told, yes, but also the stories we tell ourselves. Binding all of it together? An ancient Greek text titled “Cloud Cuckoo Land” by Antonius Diogenes. That tale – also an invention of Doerr’s – serves as this novel’s connective tissue, with excerpts introducing each chapter. That book’s journey within Doerr’s larger tale – lost, then found, then lost again and discovered anew – reflects the transitive nature of story; some live forever, while others disappear. In Constantinople, we meet two young people. Anna is an orphan in the city, working alongside her sister as a seamstress. She is desperate for something more, and when she stumbles across a tutor willing to teach her, the world of words opens up for her, though fate has other plans. Omeir lives in isolation some distance from the great city. Born with a cleft palate, he and his family were driven from their village when Omeir’s grandfather refused to abandon him to the elements. But as he grows up, Omeir’s idyllic life is altered by an intrusion from the outside world. War is coming, with both young people destined to be swept up into that harsh and brutal reality. In the town of Lakeport, Idaho, we meet Seymour and Zeno. Seymour is a lonely and troubled young man, one who struggles with the overwhelming world around him. His only respite is a wooded glen behind his house, where he meets and bonds with an owl he calls Trustyfriend. But when development threatens that safe haven, Seymour’s attitudes veer in a darker and more dangerous direction. We first meet Zeno as an elderly man, directing a play version of “Cloud Cuckoo Land” at the local library. But as we delve deeper, we learn more of his long life, from his difficult childhood to his time at war to a late-in-life desire to learn, to do more. The first crossover between these two brings its own kind of darkness, driven by desperate anger. And in the future, aboard a ship on a years-long trip to colonize a new planet, we meet Konstance. She has come of age and learns a bleak truth about the mission, which would be difficult enough. But when circumstances lead her to be isolated, with only the ship’s supercomputer Sybil as a companion, she dives into the virtual world on a quest to learn more about the full story behind the mission … and about her father. As she explores the world that was, she learns that all is not as it seems, even in the unblinking depths of space. Tying all five of these lives together, in ways overt and subtle, is the eponymous fictional novel. All of these people have their lives impacted by this book. Their paths are influenced by not just the story itself, but by the existence of the story and its presence in the world. “Cloud Cuckoo Land” is staggeringly ambitious, a delicately-constructed and beautifully-written work. Each of these places and times – Constantinople, Idaho, deep space – and the people in them could have easily been their own story, they’re realized so richly. On an individual level, they are exceptional. These storylines are incredible on their own. The historical agonies of Constantinople as the end of empire looms. Two similar but different journeys to manhood in a world whose expectations of masculinity prove difficult to meet. A future where sacrifice isn’t a choice, but an unasked-for responsibility. But together, they become something so much greater, so much … more. These shifts from past to present to future and back again should be jarring. Even with the connective device, there should be seams. And yet Doerr threads his narrative with such a light, intimate touch that these disparate elements fit together. Even as we bounce from perspective to perspective, we the reader never lose track of OUR perspective; it’s a stunning feat. Doerr pulled the inspiration for his fictional novel-within-the-novel – including its name – from the Greek comedy “The Birds” by Aristophanes, one of many ancient writers whose body of work is forever fragmented due to the myriad ravages of time. That notion – that what we know of the world of ancient letters is defined in many ways by sheer chance – is one of the foundational underpinnings of this book. Again, it comes back to a fascination with stories and storytelling. The idea that one story, a story that spent two thousand years being lost and found, could define so many lives – it’s a testament to how we are impacted by the tales we tell and are told. Doerr’s grasp of that power is clear, both in the story he’s telling and the manner in which he is telling it. “Cloud Cuckoo Land” is a masterful piece of work. It is ambitious in all the best ways, a centuries-spanning saga that is both intimate and epic, granular and grandiose. Doerr has wed past, present and future – all in service to the power of story. “The trickiest thing is the nature of man, apparent in everything.” – Aristophanes, “The Birds” ...more |
Notes are private!
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not set
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Sep 03, 2021
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Oct 12, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 0393881148
| 9780393881141
| 0393881148
| 3.91
| 62,707
| Sep 21, 2021
| Sep 21, 2021
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it was amazing
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A good book can take us on a journey. Perhaps it is a journey outward, into the wider world and what lies beyond. Or maybe inward, an exploration of p
A good book can take us on a journey. Perhaps it is a journey outward, into the wider world and what lies beyond. Or maybe inward, an exploration of psyche and emotion and personal truth. A book that can do both with thought, precision and heart, however? That’s not just a good book – it’s a great one. “Bewilderment,” the latest book from Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Richard Powers, definitely meets the criteria for the latter. A thoughtful deconstruction of the relationship between fathers and sons set against the backdrop of a troubled time and place that is a slightly skewed reflection of our own, it’s a story that manages to strike the perfect balance between looking out to the stars and into the soul. Deftly plotted and constructed from the sorts of sentences that only Powers can craft, this is a book that is unafraid to explore the many forms that goodbye can take. Theo Byrne is an astrobiologist. His life’s work is theorizing about what life might exist out there among the stars, considering the myriad possibilities of extraterrestrial existence. He’s also a single father to nine-year-old Robin, a brilliant and sensitive boy who struggles to engage with the world in the ways in which everyone expects. Both father and son are somewhat adrift, each failing in his own way to deal with the death of the woman they both loved – Theo’s wife and Robin’s mother. But fascination with other worlds can’t hide the problems with this one. There are the issues writ large – a country devolving into police state tactics and economic chaos behind an unhinged authoritarian president, a climate whose changes are rapidly accelerating, a destabilization of the educational sector – but there are also more personal issues. Robin’s outbursts lead to incidents, which lead to school administrators questioning Theo’s fitness and not-so-gently pushing for pharmaceutical interventions. Theo doesn’t want to medicate Robin. He sees Robin’s brilliance even as he struggles with the boy’s difficulties. Robin draws elaborate pictures of endangered species and seeks to find ways to follow in his late mother’s animal rights activist footsteps. He wants to hear the tales his father spins about the endless potential possibilities of life out there. But Robin’s outbursts become more and more difficult to manage. When a university colleague suggests that Robin might be a candidate for an experimental process called decoded neurofeedback – a process intended to help remap the centers of the brain using neurological “maps” of others – Theo is somewhat skeptical. However, he is also desperate, and allows his son to begin the treatments. What follows is nothing short of miraculous. Slowly but surely, the process retrains Robin’s brain, allowing the boy a much higher degree of self-control and far more emotional empathy than he’d ever displayed before. Theo is grateful, seeing his son finally break through and outwardly become more like the boy he always was inside. And yet … is he still the same Robin? That question looms large, even as other aspects of life, both personal and in the wider world, threaten to collapse around them. “Bewilderment” is a thoughtful and mesmeric tale, one that seeks to plumb the depths of the human condition while also casting hopeful inquiries out into the cosmos. The idea that life – any life – is precious is one that permeates a lot of Powers’ work, but the dichotomy he lays bare here is as effective an exploration of that idea as any he’s yet produced. Theo is a fascinating protagonist. He’s a person who is consumed by a desire to understand, yet those things he most fiercely wishes to fully grok – the life outside Earth’s ken and the life inside his son’s psyche – remain outside of his reach. It’s all theory, whether he’s extrapolating extraterrestrial existence or simply trying to predict Robin’s next meltdown. And all the while, the ebb and flow of the tides of his grief, his constant awareness of what has been lost, tugging at him. The world Powers has built around Theo and Robin is compelling in its own right. It’s not quite our world, but it bears more than a superficial resemblance; it’s a bleak and troubling place whose societal foundation is crumbling in ways that feel awfully plausible, a parallel America not as far removed from ours as we might wish it to be. The speculative nature of the work might lead to elicited comparisons; the classic Daniel Keyes short story “Flowers for Algernon” is name-checked multiple times, but there are plenty of allusions and influences at work that are considerably less overt. And of course, Powers’ own thematic touchstones are present, continuing precepts and concepts with regard to man’s relationship to nature and the environment. “Bewilderment” really digs deep into the idea that no matter how hard man tries to exert his dominion over nature – whether it be the sweeping depths of the greater cosmos or the granular intimacy of the human brain – he will inevitably be faced with the hard truth that victory is not forthcoming. But how can man accept that truth? And how can he pass that truth on to those who come behind? “Bewilderment” is a story both large and small, a tale of what it means to connect. It is a thoughtful and haunting book, one that will resonate with the reader; it argues that rather than wage war with the world, we should make our peace with it. Novels like this one echo, their ideas and plots reverberating through our heads and hearts long after the final page is turned. ...more |
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not set
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Aug 26, 2021
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Sep 22, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 0385545134
| 9780385545136
| 0385545134
| 3.74
| 73,390
| Sep 14, 2021
| Sep 14, 2021
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it was amazing
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We have a tendency to want to categorize writers, to pigeonhole them. We like to label them by way of their output: sci-fi writers and literary writer
We have a tendency to want to categorize writers, to pigeonhole them. We like to label them by way of their output: sci-fi writers and literary writers and mystery writers and horror writers and romance writers and on and on and on. It’s easy to do and generally accurate – even authors who diversify tend to be primarily identified by one label, so when we get writers that aren’t so readily tagged, we’re not entirely sure what to call them. Colson Whitehead is an author who defies those sorts of labels. He’s written speculative fiction – sci-fi and horror. He’s written historical fiction. He’s written immersive participatory nonfiction and literary satire. Really, one of the few descriptors shared across his body of work is “excellent.” As far as previous books go, he’s eight-for-eight. His latest is “Harlem Shuffle,” a crime novel of sorts that offers a vivid look at the Harlem of the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. It’s got potboiler DNA, packed with capers and unsavory elements, but all of it is informed by the narrative brilliance of the author. The result is a wild ride of a novel, one that focuses on one man’s inner struggle with his past and present, wherein he seeks to do right by his family while also being the man he wants to be. Any book by Whitehead is an event – the guy’s last two novels each won the Pulitzer Prize (“The Underground Railroad” in 2017; “The Nickel Boys” in 2020) – but this one feels like something of a throwback. It’s plenty sophisticated and carries forward many of the themes Whitehead traditionally explores in his work, but “Harlem Shuffle” is a looser read, content to lean into the narrative and let the story be what it will be. And what it will be is outstanding. Carney lives in Harlem with his wife and child; they’ve got another on the way. He’s a hard worker, a striver; he owns his own furniture store right there on 125th Street. It’s been a climb – he comes from a family of crooks and cons – but he’s played it straight. Well … mostly straight, at any rate. Sure, his wife’s parents don’t think he’s good enough for her – they’re among the city’s Black elite – but he does what he has to do to take care of his family. He’s doing pretty well for himself, offering a selection of new and gently-used furnishings to his discerning clientele. He’s also reasonable with regard to installment plans, which earns him some goodwill but sometimes leaves him a touch cash-strapped. So if part of his income springs from the sale of items delivered with … questionable provenance, well, what of it? Maybe his cousin Freddie shows up with some jewelry or whatever, Carney knows a guy who can help move it along. As he himself thinks of it, he’s only slightly bent when it comes to being crooked. But as time passes, Carney finds the draw of the shadier side of the street more and more compelling. And when Freddie’s actions pull him into the periphery of a heist that brings him to the attention of some of the bigger fish in the Harlem pond – on both sides of the law – he’s left to confront his own morality. Like it or not, he’s in it. He’s in the game, torn between the upstanding citizen and the unsavory criminal. How deep remains to be seen. How far is he willing to go? Can he stay on the (mostly) straight and narrow? Is he going to prove to be far more his father’s son than he ever would have believed possible? Or can he somehow maintain this balancing act, a foot in both worlds? All while operating in a powder keg of a city set to explode? “Harlem Shuffle” is divided into three sections, set a few years apart – 1959, 1961 and 1964. Whitehead takes us along on Carney’s journey; we’re right there as he deals with the myriad shifts and changes in his world. We’re privy to the choices he makes – both good and bad – as he floats in the gray area between the straight world and the shadows. The evolution of Carney is fascinating to watch. We’re introduced to his fundamental dichotomy early on, but he’s engaged in a constant struggle. He wants to succeed; ideally, that success would come through socially acceptable means, but he’s enough of a pragmatist – not to mention smart and self-aware enough – to recognize that the paths provided him by the world in which he lives are limited. With each leap forward in time, while Carney’s interiority remains largely the same, the manner in which he presents to the world at large gently shifts. It’s a duality that makes for one hell of a character study. Prominent among Whitehead’s many gifts is a remarkable ability to evoke a sense of place. “Harlem Shuffle” is no different, packed with tossed-off details that come together to breathe life into the setting. It’s so rare for a writer to be able to fully transport you, but Whitehead is so good at sending you where he wants you to be that you almost can’t help yourself – you’re going, so you might as well pack a bag. We also get the exploration of racial dynamics that so often permeate Whitehead’s work, though in this case, they’re baked into the setting. With a few exceptions, Carney’s orbit consists entirely of fellow African-Americans – racial inequity here is an invisible constant, the water in which these fish are swimming. Even as resentment simmers and flares into protests and even riots, Carney and those of his ilk view the uneven playing field as simple reality. To their mind, you don’t protest reality – you accept it, as unpleasant as it may sometimes be. That mindset – as well as the stratified social echelons within Harlem society – provides compelling insight into this cast of characters. And lest we forget, “Harlem Shuffle” isn’t afraid to get into the pulpier aspects of crime fiction. There are notes of inspiration drawn from the sorts of dime novels that Whitehead references numerous times within the context of the narrative. His prose isn’t nearly as purple and his storytelling isn’t nearly as grimy, but there’s some spiritual overlap there, not least in the almost compulsive readability of Whitehead’s prose. Once you’re in, you’re in – get ready to spend some time. Look, “Harlem Shuffle” probably won’t be Colson Whitehead’s third straight Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. That likelihood doesn’t change the underlying truth – that this book is fantastic. This is the work of a man who loves and respects the possibilities presented by genre, a man who is unafraid to tell the stories he wants to tell in the manner in which he wants to tell them. Make it nine-for-nine. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Aug 20, 2021
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Sep 22, 2021
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Hardcover
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| 0063002892
| 9780063002890
| 0063002892
| 3.88
| 2,650
| Sep 14, 2021
| Sep 14, 2021
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it was amazing
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The power of story is significant, burning brightly across time and space. Our stories are what define us. Our stories turn the everyday now into hist
The power of story is significant, burning brightly across time and space. Our stories are what define us. Our stories turn the everyday now into history, the history into legend and the legend into myth. So much of our understanding of not just who we are, but who we were and who we may yet become, springs from story. Monica Byrne understands that fundamental truth as well as anyone. Byrne follows up her excellent 2014 debut “The Girl in the Road” with a millenia-spanning triptych that marries past, present and future in a manner that’s not quite like anything you’ve read before. “The Actual Star” is a stunningly realized work of literary fiction. Byrne blends elements of speculative and historical fiction to create a trio of timelines, each a thousand years apart, the individual stories serving to illustrate a fundamental truth of narrative power. The stories we tell, that we pass on, can come to define us in the eyes of those who follow. Flexible and fluid, these tales grow and evolve until they are both of us and not of us. These stories – set in the years 1012, 2012 and 3012 – unspool as separate pieces that are nevertheless inherently bound up with one another. They are three, even as they are one. The book is intricately, densely plotted; narrative tendrils from each time reach out and entangle themselves with the other two. It could be knotty and difficult to follow; instead, thanks to Byrne’s gifts, it is simply a mesmerizing journey through three very different, yet very connected times. The year 1012 finds us in the company of the scions of a royal family, soon-to-be rulers of a vast Mayan kingdom. Born and bred for their current path, lives lived in the isolation of adoration. The twins – Ajul and Ixul – are teenagers, poised to ascend to the throne. Their entire existence is defined by their station and their relationship to their gods, though their relationship with one another is … complicated. It is a world of sacrifice, an effort to please those of the afterlife they call Xibalba. In 2012, a teenager named Leah makes the pilgrimage to Belize from Minnesota in an effort to connect with her absent father and her Mayan heritage. Her connection to the place is instant and intense. Among the people that she meets (and charms with her bold naivete) are Javier and Xander, twins who work for competing guided tour operators. Both are drawn to Leah, though for different reasons. And both are challenged by their connection to their home – one sees it as a gift, the other as an anchor. A thousand years later, in 3012, the world has been drastically and irrevocably altered by the consequences of massive climate change. The population is a tiny fraction of what it once, and all are nomadic, constantly moving from place to place, behavior codified by the religion shared by the overwhelming majority of all people on Earth. This movement – both physically and ideologically – is a fundamental part of civilization, with the handful who choose to settle in one place looked down upon. But when Niloux deCayo questions tenets of that faith, those questions have consequences. And there in the middle, binding these three disparate times, is Actun Tunichil Muknal. This sacred cave is the throughline, the largely unchanged pivot point. For humanity, two thousand years is a massive shift. For rock, it is merely an eyeblink. Thus, amidst so much drastic change, it remains. For the people in all three timelines, this cave is the key to finding the next world. To finding Xibalba. The sacrifices of 1012 became the fascination of 2012 became the exaltation of 3012, intricately braiding the three. “The Actual Star” is a wildly ambitious undertaking. Crafting one compelling narrative is difficult enough, but three? And to construct the book in such a way that the failure of one means the failure of all? Bold is an understatement. Yet thanks to years of meticulous research and a confidence in her own storytelling gifts, Byrne more than realizes that ambition. This is a stunning piece of work, lyrical and dense without sacrificing narrative propulsion. It can’t be stressed enough: Byrne gives us three intricately complete worlds. In 1012, the story of Ajul and Ixul is rich with detail, built upon a foundation of fact. The societal structure, the architecture, the religion – all beautifully rendered. The Belize of 2012 feels lived in and genuine in a remarkable way. There’s a clear grasp on the societal mores of the place; we even get linguistic shifts to illustrate the cultural blend. And in 3012, we’re given a speculative future that draws its fundamental ideas from all across the ideological spectrum, a world largely without walls that offers a glimpse of what might spring from the desperate degeneration of the climate. And by showing us these worlds from the perspective of those living in them – Ajul and Ixul; Leah, Javier and Xander; Niloux and her rival Tanaaj – we’re allowed to occupy that space much more intimately than we otherwise could. Another one of Byrne’s considerable gifts is an ability to evoke depth of character; these people exist in an almost tangible way, practically breathing on the page. Their virtues and their flaws all on display, rendering them utterly, beautifully human. “The Actual Star” is unlike anything I’ve read. This is a story about what stories can do, about the narratives of life and the way in which they can change through time. Was, is and will be – all are parts of the whole. It is about connections – those we can see and those we cannot – to the world around us. It is immersive and idiosyncratic and without a doubt one of the best books I’ve read in quite some time. ...more |
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1
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not set
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Aug 14, 2021
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Sep 22, 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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1
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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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| 0525535896
| 9780525535898
| 0525535896
| 3.96
| 1,149
| Aug 10, 2021
| Aug 10, 2021
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it was amazing
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What prompts people to reimagine a masterpiece? Take the works of Shakespeare, for instance – for years, writers have been digging into the Bard and of What prompts people to reimagine a masterpiece? Take the works of Shakespeare, for instance – for years, writers have been digging into the Bard and offering different takes on those classic tales. Sure, it makes a degree of sense; there’s a universality to Shakespeare’s plays, after all. If there weren’t, they would have long since faded into history rather than become a cornerstone of the Western canon. But, you know – it’s Shakespeare. If you’re going to fiddle with greatness, there’s not much room for error. When your template is one of the great works of literature, you’d best come correct. I should note that I say this as someone who adores this sort of reimagining … so long as it’s done well. Lyndsay Faye has done it well. Her new book “The King of Infinite Space” is a marvelous exploration of “Hamlet,” a thoughtful, inclusive and provocative interpretation of the tale. Modern and magical, it’s equal parts thriller and love story, built on a foundation of the classic work while also freely and gleefully embracing its own uniqueness. Like so many of the best reinterpretations, the original is still there, but deeply changed; the core of the tale, the spirit that makes it so great, remains, even as the narrative structure around it becomes something new. Benjamin Dane is a brilliant young man, a scholar of the philosophy of physics. The power of his mind is such as to have its own gravity, drawing people closer to him even as he only allows a select few to truly enter his orbit. He is also grieving. His father Jackson Dane is dead by overdose; it is unclear whether the OD was accidental or on purpose. The elder Dane was staggeringly wealthy, courtesy of Texas oil, but he sought to conquer another realm entirely – Broadway. Jackson Dane’s World’s Stage Theatre is a place for challenging work; even as financial struggles mounted, Dane insisted on the theatre paying its own way without the aid of Dane family money. Benjamin’s mother Trudy has rather suddenly taken up with her late husband’s brother Claude; the two have already been wed, albeit in secret to avoid the potential scandal their quick turnaround might generate. Lost in his own head, Benjamin reaches out to the one true friend he has. Horatio Ramesh Patel has been living in London since a falling out from when the two were roommates, but he remains deeply devoted to – and perhaps in love with – his friend. Horatio rushes to Benjamin’s side in an effort to help him through this trying time. Meanwhile, Benjamin’s ex-fiancee Lia is working through her own issues, including a drinking problem that contributed mightily to the end of her relationship. She lives above a flower shop, serving as an assistant to the three strange women who run it; suffice it to say, the bouquets provided by this trio are unique. When evidence arises that causes Benjamin to question the narrative of his father’s death, he enlists Horatio’s help in an effort to get to the truth … whatever that truth might be. There are plenty of secrets in the shadows – secrets that desperately want not to be revealed. Meanwhile, Benjamin’s also in conversation with Lia, albeit only in his (and her?) dreams. All of it together leaves him confused, frustrated and paranoid, struggling to maintain a grasp on reality even with the steady, calming presence of Horatio by his side. “The King of Infinite Space” is precisely what I hoped for. Tackling the Bard – particularly one of the big ones – is a delicate task; for it to truly work, the author must create something altogether new while also holding onto the fundamental greatness of the source. Faye does that beautifully, giving us a compelling and haunting story that captures that spirit while also being entirely its own. The most incredible thing – at least to my mind – is that you don’t even need to know “Hamlet” to engage with and enjoy this book. Yes, there are plenty of references and allusions that will light up the Shakespearean synapses, but even those without that perspective will still experience a book that is mysterious and magical, driven by love and fear and introspection. “The King of Infinite Space” is still the story of our central scion, but in Faye’s hands it becomes a story about others as well. The agency granted to Horatio and especially Lia allows for this new narrative to branch off into something broader. Rather than staying constantly focused on the melancholy Dane, we get to experience the interiority of those close to him as well. That added perspective only serves to enhance the characterization of all involved; a rising tide that raises all boats. I assumed I would like this book – my affection for this sort of work is well-documented – but I had little inkling of just how much. This is the modern, thoughtful, queer, feminist literary take on “Hamlet” that I didn’t know I wanted until I had it. Lyndsay Faye has crafted something wonderful with “The King of Infinite Space” – to read or not to read isn’t even a question. Read. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
|
Aug 2021
|
Aug 20, 2021
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 3.74
| 27,264
| Aug 03, 2021
| Aug 03, 2021
|
it was amazing
|
What’s that you say? A book centered around Shakespeare AND academia? Yes, I WOULD like to know more. As someone with both a deep and abiding love for What’s that you say? A book centered around Shakespeare AND academia? Yes, I WOULD like to know more. As someone with both a deep and abiding love for the Bard and a personal understanding of the ins and outs of small liberal arts colleges, I was always going to be interested in a book like Mona Awad’s “All’s Well.” However, while that introductory elevator pitch was enough to get me in the door, could it keep me there? Reader, it most assuredly could. And did. This is a darkly funny and strange tale, the story of a woman whose professional and personal missteps (both figurative and literal) have left her in a bleak and hopeless place. It’s the story of what can happen when passion curdles into something else, something powered by self-loathing and anger, all of it set against a backdrop of a theatre professor who makes a bargain that she doesn’t understand in a desperate hope to turn around the life she sees slipping away. Miranda Fitch is locked into a downward spiral. Once an aspiring actress, an on-stage accident leaves her suffering constant pain that no amount of medical assistance can alleviate. She bluffed her way into a position as a professor in a foundering Theatre Studies department at a small liberal arts college, but her ongoing health issues and tendency toward self-medication – not to mention an obsession with the past and what might have been – leaves her teetering on the precipice of disaster. It doesn’t help that her choice for the department’s annual Shakespeare production – “All’s Well That Ends Well” – is being met by resistance from all corners; the students, the administration and even her fellow faculty members all want a more traditional choice. Specifically, they all want to do “Macbeth,” which only causes Miranda to dig in her heels, even as she’s undermined at all turns. However, a chance encounter with a mysterious trio of men at a local watering hole changes everything. These strange men seem to know an awful lot about her; they know about her position, her pain and the myriad struggles of her past. A bargain is struck, one whose ramifications are far-reaching. Suddenly, Miranda’s pain is lessening. Her students have become compliant, if perhaps a little scared. An unexpected donation makes the administration far more willing to allow her to do the show she wants. So many of her problems begin to fade away, leaving her to live a new, more energized life. But the bill will soon come due … and the price will be far higher than she ever could have anticipated. “All’s Well” is shot through with an undeniably sinister vibe, offering up a deluge of painful memory, dark jokes and ever-shifting conflict. It’s an engrossing narrative, one that embraces its more supernatural aspects while also grounding the proceedings in the sad reality of a world in which pain – particularly women’s pain – is dismissed and ignored. It’s rife with Shakespearean touchpoints, references begetting references; the narrative gleefully pulls from the canon, shaping the story with nods both subtle and overt. It’s a wonderful hat-tip to the darkness that squirms beneath the surface of many of the Bard’s work, with Awad finding ways to seamlessly incorporate these many nuggets of Shakespeariana. It also works as a satiric takedown of a certain kind of small-school theatre department, one driven by the bizarre confluence of ill-informed administrative demands and cult of personality-type faculty figures. It’s an extrapolation of the sorts of interpersonal conflicts that can spring from being forced to constantly fight not just for funding, but for your very position. All that, plus we’re given a wonderful underlying darkness regarding Miranda herself, a self-obsessed could-have-been whose entire world revolves around pain, both physical and psychic (and perhaps an overlap of the two); it’s a provocative and disconcerting look at the lengths to which one might go to gain the life that one believes one deserves. Awad’s prose is knotty and complex, but never at the expense of the story being told. It’s a razor’s edge on which to walk, but she manages to write in a manner that is narratively engaging while also being stylistically evocative. The result is a book that leaves you wanting to make note of certain passages while also being almost too propulsive for you to stop reading long enough to make them. “All’s Well” is in my wheelhouse, of course, bringing together sets and settings that speak deeply to me. However, one doesn’t need to have those same deep-set connections to engage with this book. It is subversive and combative, a work that neither celebrates nor condemns its protagonist, instead choosing to allow the reader to come to their own conclusions. It is funny and sad, packed with the kind of desperation that shines through even in moments of triumph. “All’s Well” ends well, to be sure, but its beginning and middle shine just as brightly, even from the depths of the shadows. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jul 25, 2021
|
Aug 20, 2021
|
Hardcover
| |||||||||||||||||
| 059320123X
| 9780593201237
| 059320123X
| 3.52
| 149,638
| Jul 13, 2021
| Jul 13, 2021
|
it was amazing
|
Every once in a while, a book will come along that makes you stop and say to yourself: “Now THAT is a GREAT f—ing idea.” That was my immediate reaction Every once in a while, a book will come along that makes you stop and say to yourself: “Now THAT is a GREAT f—ing idea.” That was my immediate reaction to a brief synopsis I read for “The Final Girl Support Group,” the latest novel by the delightful genre-bending horror author Grady Hendrix. From those few sentences that laid out the concept for me, I knew that this was going to be a book that I not only liked, not only loved, but made me the tiniest bit jealous that I hadn’t come up with the idea myself. It is a smart, self-aware narrative, one that does one of the cleanest jobs you’ll ever see in combining subversion of and affinity for the tropes of a genre. It embraces some of the basest impulses of the horror world and turns them on their head by endowing them with verisimilitude. It looks beyond the stories we’ve always seen, and by doing so uncovers a much deeper – and in some ways scarier – tale to be told. To wit: When the credits roll in a horror movie, what happens to the one who lives? Lynnette Tarkington is a recluse, paranoid and ever-vigilant ever since she was the lone survivor of a horrifying massacre. Once a month, she drives to a secret location – a church basement – and attends the same meeting she always does. For years, Lynnette and five other women – other lone survivors of different, but equally bloody and deadly incidents – meet with a therapist to work through the kind of unique emotional trauma that only the women in the room truly understand. See, this is a world in which the slasher movies that terrorize and titillate audiences are based on true events. These women each survived their experience, whether it was a vengeful machete-wielding madman at a summer camp or a family of inbred cannibals in the Texas desert or a sociopathic teen with a hard-on for metanarratives or even a possibly supernatural monster who may or may not be able to invade dreams. They all lived … and they have to live with that. And in this world, these final girls are celebrities of a sort. They are objects of fascination to the public, and while most people are content to watch the interviews, read the books and yes, see the movies, there are always a few who take their fascination to a much darker place. When one of the women fails to show up for group, Lynnette is convinced that something bad is afoot – something that places all of them in danger. They keep the group secret for a reason, and if an outsider knows about it, no one is safe. Lynnette believes that the monsters never stop coming; even if you stop one, there will always be another to take its place. Perhaps now, one of those monsters seeks to finish the jobs that his predecessors failed to complete. Like I said – great f—ing idea. “The Final Girl Support Group” wears its affinity for the slasher movie on its blood-stained sleeve. Anyone with even a passing familiarity with the genre will grasp the analogues that Hendrix has created – nods to “Friday the 13th” and “Halloween” and “Scream” and “Nightmare on Elm Street,” yes, but also more obscure offerings that made me chuckle even as the implications of their plots being reality-based had me wincing (in a good way). It’s such a simple twist on the nigh-ubiquitous concept of the “final girl,” this idea that survival means that these people have to wake up the next day and every day and confront the grimly shattering reality of what has happened to them. It explores the trauma of that notion with admirable delicacy, even as the narrative gets increasingly wilder. Their suffering is never treated disrespectfully or as a joke; Hendrix’s commitment to that gives the book a heartbeat that it wouldn’t otherwise have had. There’s a groundedness here that really elevates the proceedings. Hendrix goes to great pains to offer up details that illustrate the ways in which our culture might deal with (and ultimately adapt to) living in a space where these sorts of things actually happen. Once the baseline premise – that slasher movie big-bads are real – is accepted, the rest feels extremely plausible. A culture of celebrity admiration? Sure. A dark undercurrent of that culture populated by unsettling weirdoes? Uh-huh. Academic research? Movie franchises? Yes and yes. Thanks to the conscientiousness of the author, you buy it all. There are also aspects of the book that dig into the sociosexual nature of society’s relationship to this type of story. What is it that drives these men – they’re always men – to commit these heinous acts? And what is it that compels so many to consume these stories when they’re told? Final girls are survivors, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t also victims – where’s the line when it comes to the possible exploitation of their trauma? Ultimately, that trauma belongs to them and them alone, regardless of how it might be shared. Hendrix also isn’t afraid to get gory – an obvious must when telling a story like this – and he really leans into the fundamentals to great effect. And he juxtaposes that violence with moments of emotional engagement and dark humor, giving us a book that always keeps us just the slightest bit off-balance, as if we’re wandering a dark hallway or forest path and not entirely sure that we’re alone. All that, plus it’s one hell of a good story, a propulsive narrative thoughtfully advanced and featuring some genuine and well-earned surprises. “The Final Girl Support Group” is a great concept well executed. Grady Hendrix shows himself to be a master craftsman here, bringing together an encyclopedic knowledge of and genuine affection for his blood-spattered inspiration to create something surprisingly thought-provoking, deftly funny and undeniably weird. Read this book. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Jul 18, 2021
|
Jul 21, 2021
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Hardcover
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|
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|
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my rating |
|
|
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|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| 3.90
|
it was amazing
|
Dec 23, 2021
|
Jan 27, 2022
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|||||
|
| 4.08
|
really liked it
|
Dec 02, 2021
|
Jan 27, 2022
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|||||
|
| 3.35
|
really liked it
|
Nov 17, 2021
|
Jan 27, 2022
|
|||||
|
| 3.64
|
really liked it
|
Nov 08, 2021
|
Jan 27, 2022
|
|||||
|
| 3.84
|
it was amazing
|
Oct 26, 2021
|
Nov 16, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 4.22
|
it was amazing
|
Oct 18, 2021
|
Nov 16, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.47
|
it was amazing
|
Oct 09, 2021
|
Nov 10, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.41
|
really liked it
|
Oct 02, 2021
|
Nov 10, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.92
|
really liked it
|
Sep 25, 2021
|
Nov 10, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 4.01
|
it was amazing
|
Sep 21, 2021
|
Nov 10, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 4.74
|
it was amazing
|
Sep 14, 2021
|
Oct 12, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 4.01
|
it was amazing
|
Sep 07, 2021
|
Oct 12, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 4.26
|
it was amazing
|
Sep 03, 2021
|
Oct 12, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.91
|
it was amazing
|
Aug 26, 2021
|
Sep 22, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.74
|
it was amazing
|
Aug 20, 2021
|
Sep 22, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.88
|
it was amazing
|
Aug 14, 2021
|
Sep 22, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 4.24
|
really liked it
|
Aug 04, 2021
|
Sep 22, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.96
|
it was amazing
|
Aug 2021
|
Aug 20, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.74
|
it was amazing
|
Jul 25, 2021
|
Aug 20, 2021
|
|||||
|
| 3.52
|
it was amazing
|
Jul 18, 2021
|
Jul 21, 2021
|
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