Mostly, we’re dealing with fluffy little marshmallows of essays here: soft, delightful, lacking any real substance.
My favorites, though, were the marsMostly, we’re dealing with fluffy little marshmallows of essays here: soft, delightful, lacking any real substance.
My favorites, though, were the marshmallows that slipped through Quality Control. These began as little puffs of mindless charm, but tucked inside hid a heart-zinger. A crunch of horse-hoof, perhaps, if we’re going with the marshmallow theme? Which is, of course, a terrible theme to go with since marshmallows are gross — though I’ll allow for a s’more or two on a crisp fall night in front of a blazing fire. Also, I don’t think gelatin contains animal products anymore, does it? Hmm. A google search would tell me.
…aaaand I’m back. Yes, is the short answer, and you probably don’t want to know the long answer.
Okay what is even happening here. Back to the gold: geese as metaphor. The desire to still believe (and believe *in*) an imperfect mother. The lists of earthly delights worth sticking around for.
I’m a little unsure why no one seemed to have edited this book. Was there an editor? Like, actually? If there was, did that person understand their asI’m a little unsure why no one seemed to have edited this book. Was there an editor? Like, actually? If there was, did that person understand their assignment?
Sooo I guess I’ll step in, then, with some editorial thoughts:
More jokes do not equal more humor. Let the good ones stand; ruthlessly cut the rest. They don’t serve you or your words.
What works on a podcast doesn’t necessarily translate to a book. CC: truncating every other word, dropping deep-cut references, SHOUTING FOR EFFECT. Not saying we need to strive for formality here, but this read like a 300-page Instagram post.
Stay focused. Think: what are you really trying to say? Voices don’t need to fit in neat little boxes — political, activist, humor, observational — and I’d argue that taking a layered approach is more interesting and human. In this case, though, I don’t know *who* this book is for. There are certainly funnier authors out there, if you want humor. There are more effective agents of social change, if you want activism. What are you bringing to the table?
Edit, edit and edit some more. I counted multiple typos and instances of incorrect punctuation. Just no with that. She also presents an unproven/debated anecdote about cops after the killing of Ma’Khia Bryant as fact, which I found troubling. There are countless examples of police officers being terrible, racist humans, so it seems like she should have drawn from one of those to make her point, instead. We don’t need to give deniers of police brutality against Black people any fodder here. [Note: I had to edit this section because I initially misquoted the author the first go-round. The irony of this happening under my admonishment for better editing is not lost on me.]
Five decades of clever observations and analogies that, as all the best comedy does, make you laugh at the absurdity of human nature. We’re such buffoFive decades of clever observations and analogies that, as all the best comedy does, make you laugh at the absurdity of human nature. We’re such buffoons.
The format was perfect for Reading in the Time of Coronavirus: you can go through bit by bit (literally) and laugh so you don’t have to cry. (Although, really, crying for what? Corona or not I’d still have spent this rainy Saturday morning finishing this book.)
NB: Your brain will automatically read this in Seinfeld voice. You know the one: the outrage, the incredulity, the distinct shrillness. (Off-topic, but why is “shrill” almost exclusively reserved for women — and in a disparaging way? Basically, if you’re a woman and have a voice and an opinion, you’re shrill. If you’re Jerry Seinfeld and use a high-pitched, piercing tone to punctuate your jokes, you’re a billionaire. Anyway, if there’s ever a time to drop feminist truths, it’s while reviewing a comedy book.) Point is, the man’s got his comedic worldview down, and the material is so intrinsically *his.* It’s hard to be original as an artist (are comics artists? Yes, I would venture), but if someone can look at your work and know without a doubt who the creator was, you’re doing something right.
This book has drawn some heat, so in order to properly review it, it might be wise to pop on some boxing gloves. That would make it pretty hard to typThis book has drawn some heat, so in order to properly review it, it might be wise to pop on some boxing gloves. That would make it pretty hard to type, though, so I’ll forge ahead without.
I picked up this book because I fear the progressive left has become a bastion of intolerance. I see entire generations of people screaming into an echo chamber and proudly thinking they’re effecting some kind of meaningful change in the world. I hear insults hurled at anyone who doesn’t subscribe entirely and without reservation to The Doctrine. I talk to people who think the world is purely binary: good and bad, light and dark, us and them. (From these permutations, these people, of course, have correctly deduced The Way.)*
These things are troubling to me, a liberal feminist who believes in nuance, so I was looking forward to reading how Daum tackled them in her book. The answer, cheekily, is nuanced itself. There’s a bit of curmudgeonly “back in MY day!” fist-shaking going in, and occasionally issues get reduced more than they should. But Daum refuses to pretend that everything is simple and straightforward and binary, and in these highly, highly partisan times, we never hear that voice. It’s as if we’re so afraid of ideas or, I don’t know, *ourselves,* maybe, that it’s easier to just follow along with the people who claim to have it all figured out.
I’m either paraphrasing or directly plagiarizing here, but someone once said America likes sides, not subtleties. I didn’t agree with everything Daum said, but I felt happy to be in the company of someone who won’t get on board the Train of Perpetually Outraged Persons.
It’s complicated, though, because there’s a lot to be outraged about. I mean shit, our country is a complete and utter disaster. But how do we fix it? By labeling everyone who doesn’t agree with us an oppressor? That doesn’t seem...fruitful. But then what — do we simply smile and tacitly condone ugliness and hate in the name of civility? I guess the point is you do both, and you do neither. It’s somewhere in between. It’s nuanced, it’s messy, it’s complicated. Just like humanity.
*To be clear, I’m guilty of ALL of these things. It feels so viscerally good, and it provides a fleeting sense of power in a time when I otherwise so often feel power*less.* just saying: I AM WITH YOU. I GET IT!...more
Me, halfway through the first essay: Holy shit. Best book ever. This is pure genius. I'm literally L-O-Ling in the nail salon, and it's not because thMe, halfway through the first essay: Holy shit. Best book ever. This is pure genius. I'm literally L-O-Ling in the nail salon, and it's not because the little lady is doing the foot-scrubby thing that tickles my toes.
Me, up through the sixth essay: This guy's brilliant. How does he do it? How does he pair that smacking sense of humor with such thoughtfulness and poignancy? How does he know exactly the moment worth writing about, and how does he find the hook that's unexpected yet so utterly perfect? I think I'm in love.
Me, reading the majority of the second half of the book: I can't handle this. No more caves! No more passion projects! My soul is slowly being sucked out of my body, dementor-style. I'm worried I might not make it out alive. See you on the other side, and God save the Queen.
Me, during the last two essays of the book: Praise Jesus! He's back, that keen observationalist who manages to slice through the mundane with a fierce backhand you never saw coming. I am once again in love. ...more
Wow. How boring was this book?? And why oh why does Bill Bryson have to torment me so??
I discovered Bill Bryson shortly before I read Notes and serioWow. How boring was this book?? And why oh why does Bill Bryson have to torment me so??
I discovered Bill Bryson shortly before I read Notes and seriously thought I had hit a goldmine; I thought he'd be my new favorite author, that I'd be reading his entire collection, that I wouldn't be able to get enough. Part travel writer, part humorist, part explorer-of-curiosities and part taker-of-challenges, Bryson writes things I want to read about: hiking the Appalachian Trail, returning to America after 20 years abroad, Australia...everything he wrote sounded interesting! I love Britain, so despite a "meh" experience with Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, I was willing to give Notes from a Small Island a chance.
This, it turns out, was a big mistake. Somehow, the book that I thought would be full of funny observations and charming details about jolly old England turned out to be, well, pretty much just that---but gone terribly wrong. As was the case with A Walk in the Woods, Bryson tells a funny story, full of keen observations, dark humor and interesting facts, but as a whole, the book didn't come together. All the pieces were there, so this was very disappointing indeed.
Essentially, this book is like sitting through a slide show (sans visuals) tour of Britain, and even though the host might be a funny guy who you'd really like to go grab a pint with, you're still like wait, seriously? There are how many more slides to go??
Side note: Part of me still wants to read the rest of Bryson's books...it's as though I can't convince myself that no, I am not a Bill Bryson fan. Sad day....more
I appreciate Thompson's efforts to show the world that there's more to vacationing than the Caribbean and that tReally enjoyed this quick little read.
I appreciate Thompson's efforts to show the world that there's more to vacationing than the Caribbean and that travel writing should probably exist on more than an endless stream of cliches ("the charming cheese-maker and his rosy-faced wife invited us in, where we dined on the freshest mozzarella and the ripest tomatoes in their rustic home as the sun went down across the Tuscan hills"). I totally made that up, by the way, but I bet you thought you read it in Gourmet.
Had I not agreed with Thompson on so many fronts, I probably would have grown a little tired of his cynicism and arrogance--both of which there were plenty--but instead I laughed out loud to his stories and breezed happily through the book.
Word of caution...in the first few pages, I was worried I had signed up to read a book about how if you're traveling and you DON'T wind up in a crack den/get high with locals/get mugged, you're not really getting the most mileage in your travels. Don't be fooled: Thompson just wants to show that real travel can be ugly...just because you're in Paris or Tokyo or Phuket* doesn't mean that your days will be filled with glorious perfection. Life can beat you up in France just as much as it can in the U.S. of A.
This was our May 2008 book club read...can't say I was thrilled with it. The point was often missing from many of the essays, and while I laughed and This was our May 2008 book club read...can't say I was thrilled with it. The point was often missing from many of the essays, and while I laughed and happily flipped through the pages, the content seemed better suited for a blog than a book. Crosley has a good voice, but I just didn't see the magic that other essayists - like the ubiquitous but amazing David Sedaris - bring to their books. You won't be bored reading this, but it's more like you're listening to your friend tell you some funny thing that happened to a friend of hers than you're reading a published collection of essays...
I could write a book like this.
If you're the sort of person who likes easy breezy books for the beach, and you have this on hand as you're venturing out for a weekend in the Hamptons, you won't be disappointed with this one...or maybe if you're on a plane and just want something to pass the time...but in terms of a legitimate "good read," you should go back to Amazon and order something else. Get Me Talk Pretty One Day by Sedaris instead if you want a book of sharp, hysterical essays that are more than just storytelling....more
I love reading Ruth Reichl's stories. The first book I read of hers, Tender at the Bone, was charming and evocative, and it had some killer recipes toI love reading Ruth Reichl's stories. The first book I read of hers, Tender at the Bone, was charming and evocative, and it had some killer recipes to boot (the pork and tomatillo stew is absolutely amazing...recipe available upon request!).
Garlic and Sapphires didn't capture me in the same way as TATB, but it was still an enjoyable enough read for my foodie self. (Disclaimer: I read this book after reading - and LOVING - the Harry Potter series for the first time straight through, so almost anything would have disappointed right after that. It was like this was a rebound book...in other words, "it's not you, Garlic and Sapphires, it's me."*)
The stories were amusing (some of the characters she assumed while in disguise were priceless) and personal, and Reichl is a completely engaging writer (her descriptions of food are so vivid that even if you've never had sea urchin, you'll know what it tastes like after reading), but the book lacks the sense of wonder at the wide world of food that made TATB so captivating. It seemed to be more about the formal aspects of food - that is, what's sitting on your plate, how it's presented, etc. - rather than about what food means to a community. I missed that connectivity in this book.
I did love the insider's glance the book affords you. For a religious reader of the Dining In section of the New York Times, it's pretty cool to see the effort that goes into being the most famous food critic in the country. (How, by the way, are these people not exceptionally fat?? I would never be able to pass up all the food restaurateurs throw at you...)
Perfect for foodies who want to live vicariously through the eyes and ears (and mouth) of a New York Times food critic in disguise.
You've got to love Steingarten's enthusiasm for food. Throughout each chapter of The Man Who Ate Everything, he'll get right down to every last nitty You've got to love Steingarten's enthusiasm for food. Throughout each chapter of The Man Who Ate Everything, he'll get right down to every last nitty gritty, chemistry-laden detail on, e.g., making the perfect mashed potatoes, but because his writing is so readable and engaging (not to mention hilarious--Steingarten is super dry and witty), you don't realize that the fun you're having is also, gasp, teaching you something. In that sense, one could argue he's a bit like Bill Nye the Science Guy ("science rules"), but for food.* His fascination with his subject rubs off on the reader--whether you're a foodie (me, me!) or not--and it while it's possible to get through it in bite-size chunks, it's more likely you'll want to devour it in one sitting.**
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