Adult Book Reviews

Gonzales is both a non-fiction and fiction writer, whose excellent articles I've read in well-known publications like The Atlantic Monthly. This book is the first novel of hers I've read, and I was not disappointed.

Our two key narrators are Anita, a Latina artist whose husband, we discover right away, killed her in 1980s New York City; and Raquel, a Latina art student in late 1990s Rhode Island, trying to find her way in a predominantly white and privileged community while also maintaining and respecting her cultural roots.

Both Anita (who narrates from the world of the dead and who can use a form of Santeria to manifest her actions and "essence" to people still living) and Raquel share the experience of falling for privileged and self-involved white men, both of whom are controlling and abusive in various ways. While Anita is a fighter to the last, Raquel's self-confidence rises slowly but steadily throughout the novel until the finale when readers see her blossom into a woman who can and will stand up for herself and for her family and true friends.

Beyond the two women's dangerous (and in Anita's case. deadly) relationships with controlling white men, the other linked plotline centers on Anita's art work being gradually erased after her death and the promise that Raquel will somehow unearth those works and breathe new life into them. My only quibble with the progress of this plotline is that its resolution felt rather rushed, not quite providing the satisfaction that a slower, longer narrative of Anita's re-discovery would have.

Gonzales's writing style is propulsive in parts and poetic in others. Her two protagonists are drawn vividly, and even without the named alternating chapters, it would be hard to confuse one voice with another. The conclusion of both narrators' stories shines a light on the importance of women defining themselves outside their roles in men's lives. I think Gonzales also does well to portray Anita and Raquel not simply as victims of male violence and general douche-baggery but as flawed, smart, emotionally conflicted women whose sexual and romantic decisions are as fraught with passion and blind spots as any real-life woman's is.

Having only really experienced Kate Beaton's web comic, Hark! A Vagrant and her sillier material, I was interested to see how a graphic novel of her life would play out on the printed page. I was shocked to find her somewhat whimsical style had so much emotion for a story that was assuredly a difficult one to tell. Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands is as gripping as it is frustrating that such working conditions remain this dangerous for women.

Telling the story of how Beaton paid off her student loans from art school in the fastest way possible, Ducks highlights the misogyny and sexism present in the (frankly) male-dominated field of petroleum. Working on the oil sands isn't safe in a physical sense, but add to that the "hanging with the guys" tropes that eventually lead to assault. It was hard to read sections of this book, knowing that men should be better than this. Beaton pours her trauma out on the page and it stuck with me in a way that only a graphic novel like this could convey.

I'd say that this book should be required reading for both men and women going into these fields, but I know it probably wouldn't change anything. There's too much inertia to effect the significant changes that would need to happen. This shouldn't lessen discussions about the depression, substance abuse, and suicide that men in these jobs endure, but instead highlight the tenuous strengths and inevitable weakness of humans pushed to their breaking points. For some, though, it is a lifestyle. For the lucky ones, they make it out alive in as little time as possible—which is still long enough to have lasting negative effects on their lives.

A deeply moving memoir about women working in a male-dominated field, I give Ducks 5.0 stars out of 5.

It's weird how a bit of hindsight brings a work into full focus. I never watched the movie After Earth (2013) because of its critical reception among audiences and critics alike. I figured maybe I would give the novel a try, not realizing it was not some work that the movie adapted, but instead a novelization of the movie itself. This was clearly a Will Smith passion project and never have I seen such blatant self-inserts in a work of fiction.

While the author of this novelization may be Peter David, Will Smith was behind much of this plot. Seeing the home life of the adult character in this book mirroring the home life that we know between Will and Jada is cringe-worthy. What's worse is that these characters (either the Will or the Jaden stand-ins) were so flat and boring as to be completely worthless. The plot that drives their adventure felt so juvenile that any group of six-year-olds could think it up playing on a playground. It's almost laughable that there were signs this was meant to be a bigger series.

Ultimately, After Earth is frustrating. It's a mediocre story with lackluster ideas. But, since a rich and famous person wanted to make it, Hollywood and Random House spent a lot of money to get it made. Thinking of all the fantastic (and nearly hidden) indie stories out there that will never get the amount of exposure that this bomb got makes me sad for the entertainment industry. Sure, sometimes there are breakthroughs, but these are rare as the rough edges of interesting works are sanded off to become marketable to the masses.

A nepotism story with no subtlety, I give After Earth 1.0 stars out of 5.

Multiple personalities is one of those tropes that some writers use as a crutch to explain why their main character is so good at a litany of unique skills necessary to move the plot forward. And while the main character in Legion suffers from this superhuman trait, Brandon Sanderson still gives him enough weaknesses so that it's not entirely overpowered. Still, I can appreciate that this concept only took up three novellas (contained in this volume), since it can often overstay its welcome.

Each of the stories revolves around Stephen Leeds, a super-genius investigator who has portioned off his polymath of abilities to different personalities in his head. These personalities take up a physical space around him, even if nobody else can see them. Some of the "rules" around these invisible characters didn't seem to make much sense since they're allegedly all in Stephen's head, but I guess a character like this needs a Kryptonite to prevent him from solving all his problems so easily. I also had to suspend my disbelief with the mysteries Stephen was investigating, mostly rolling my eyes at the unbelievable nature of these concepts.

Overall, though, this trilogy of novellas is a solid read. It's basically a novel in three parts, as I've read full books longer than these three novellas put together. The unique personalities of the "personalities" were all quite entertaining, even if they overshadowed Stephen's somewhat milquetoast characteristics. The engineer in me wanted to know more about how this specific form of multiple personality disorder functioned, since it was a unique take on the disability. At any rate, if you're a fan of Sanderson's work, this is a quick read that proves he knows how to write in short form as well as his standard epic-length books.

An overdone trope that doesn't overstay its welcome, I give Legion 4.0 stars out of 5.

After being so disappointed with The Memory of Earth , I'm surprised I gave the second volume in the Homecoming series a chance. I figured Orson Scott Card could have got things on track by this book, getting rid of all the unnecessary fluff and useless ramblings. Instead, The Call of Earth made it clear to me that I will not be continuing this series. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

I think part of the problem with this series is how it's written. Having recently read an eye-opening book on identifying "Show versus Tell," it shocked me how much of this book was written with "Tell" language. Granted, a lot of science fiction and fantasy books have to do this to explain interesting magic or technologies. The Call of Earth, however, spent another whole book stuck in this pseudo-Roman society that most people can easily visualize. I'm still convinced he threw this series together to meet a deadline, because it has never felt that inspired.

What's most frustrating is knowing that it could be better. I was expecting this book to be about leaving their planet in search of Earth. Instead, they merely talked about it for 10 hours. None of the characters stood out to me, and whatever plot was there was so forgettable, I don't even care to look up what it was. I get that not every author is going to have all their books be amazing or thought-provoking. But two in a row doesn't give me much hope that the other three books in this series will be any better.

Another disappointing entry in Card's Homecoming series, I give The Call of Earth 2.0 stars out of 5.

This book by an Australian writer is one of the best novels I've read this year, centering on the lives of four women in their 70s who've known each other for many years. Three of them gather for the duration of the novel to clear out the home of their friend who has died and to know that this place too will no longer be part of their lives. Readers are witness to their struggle to come to terms with their loss and how they will (or won't) continue their now-reduced friendship. The narration toggles easily from one of the (living) women to the next and back, always propelling plot elements even as the narrative voice changes so that the reader isn't getting "re-runs" of several occurrences just because the point of view changes. In addition, each character is sharply defined and unique, so different from each other, in fact, that it's a wonder they were ever friends to begin with. And this narrative tension among the three as they each ruminate on their memories of the absent fourth and chafe against the foibles and flaws of each other felt poignant and, to me, exquisitely realistic.

Many books I've read that I've loved for a good portion have fallen apart or ended on a "bleh" or even a "wtf?" note. Not this time! What will probably stay with me the longest as Wood's admiring reader is the graceful precision of her final depiction of these tough, wise, messy, sad, funny, and unforgettable women. It involves some high drama, for sure, but also, the ocean--and what this small coastal Australian slice of it has meant to all of them.

Humans are incredible creatures. There's a resilience for life that shows up in the most dire of circumstances. This is prevalent in many mountaineering books—especially the ones about climbing disasters. The Ledge is the harrowing real-life story of survival against the odds on Mount Rainier. Granted, most stories like this are usually framed with the benefit of hindsight, which can also highlight the risks that led to the disaster. It's amazing that anyone survived this situation, which is what makes this book an entertaining read.

There are a lot of extreme outdoor people in Colorado. My risk tolerance is usually low enough that I think what they do is crazy. I know it's easy to judge when things go wrong, so it s comforting that the situation that led to the titular ledge was mostly because of bad luck. An alignment of poor conditions can take even the most experienced mountaineers by surprise, just like it did here. I appreciate the decisions made in the moment were still the smartest options available.

While I wasn't wild about the back-and-forth framing of the disaster interspersed with flashbacks and exposition, it helped break up the intense sections where Davidson climbed out of the icy crevasse. I'm also glad that this book addressed the aftermath of the disaster, including all the PTSD and other mental effects associated with it. So many disaster books just stop at the point where they're rescued. That there was closure to the events that happened on Rainier helped to tell a complete story. After all, these are the things most people don't consider when dealing with the severe trauma involved with such a story of survival.

A harrowing tale of mountaineering survival, I give The Ledge 4.0 stars out of 5.

Science fiction often bogs itself down in the details of a potential future while forgetting the poetry that can come with the written word. It doesn't matter what scientific topic the book is handling if it's not entertaining to read. The best ones are a combination of speculative science, entertainment, and beautiful prose. I feel Sea of Tranquility meets these three criteria. The narrative is gripping, the framework thought-provoking, and the execution superb. I've never seen such a common sci-fi topic like this handled so well.

Time travel feels like it can be a crutch for a writer. It's a way to fill in details in a non-linear format that covers up any plot holes in a way that feels cheap. Jumping around in time can also make things confusing, as it isn't clear what era each section is set in. However, the way Emily St. John Mandel handles time travel in this book is probably one of the best I've seen. While following a linear timeline (somewhat akin to Cloud Atlas), the depth of time travel reveals itself with each jump into the future.

I think the reason I love how this book handles time travel is that each revisit of events adds layers of context that almost require an immediate second read-through of the entire book. Sure, the time travel explains away certain mysteries—but giving the reason behind those moments just elevates the story to higher levels. And throughout the whole thing, the descriptions, wording, and overall writing is just fantastic. Even if you don't like science fiction, this book stands out as a well-written piece of work that dives deeper into how humans can't ever know the full extent of a moment from a singular perspective.

The best time travel book I've ever read, I give Sea of Tranquility 5.0 stars out of 5.

Every once in a while, I come across a book that feels like it's way above my head, but changes how I think about the world. Their analysis calls into question the known understanding of something and references plenty of famous individuals who have written on the topic. Unfortunately, a neophyte like myself does not know who any of these people are. The Dawn of Everything is very much one of these kinds of books for me.

Not knowing much about anthropology or ancient human civilizations, I came in with an open mind and found some intriguing points put forward in this book. We often look at history through modern lenses, but how often are we merely adopting the modern lenses of those before us? If the common thinking cannot support the physical evidence, should we continue to believe it? I learned a ton by reading this book, and I don't even feel like I was grasping everything that it was trying to convey because I wasn't as intimately familiar with the standard model it was trying to deconstruct.

While I think The Dawn of Everything can be approachable for anyone looking to educate themselves about how humans used to interact, it suffers from being occasionally overly academic. There are tons of examples brought forth in this text that merely reinforce the main thesis, each time trying to discredit some previously held belief that I wasn't aware existed until I read it for the first time here. At a certain point, it gets redundant. Still, there were many ideas it presented that made sense enough for me to consider that the authors were onto something big.

A mildly bloated re-thinking of the structure of early human societies, I give The Dawn of Everything 4.0 stars out of 5.

Anyone who has met me knows I am a huge fan of Christopher Nolan's movies. His ability to provide a psychological, mind-bending narrative has kept me engaged for decades. It only makes sense that I would then read the pseudo-biography / interview, The Nolan Variations. Tom Shone's writing style feels intimate and personable in a way that made me feel closer to Christopher Nolan after reading this book. Whether or not you like his films, The Nolan Variations is important to get into the headspace of this acclaimed director.

The Nolan Variations dives into each one of Nolan's films, starting with Following (1998) and ending with Tenet (2020). That it provides hints of his Oscar-winning next film, Oppenheimer (2023) is really quite prescient. Unfortunately, this is also the one weakness of such a book. While it covers everything up to Nolan's peak, unless there's a "Volume 2" of this book, there will always be key elements of his filmography missing. Sure, it's interesting to see how he got here, but what happens next? Where does he go from here?

The casual way in which Shone reveals these deep insights into Nolan's mind is truly the best part of The Nolan Variations. I learned so much about Nolan's thought process, and a deeper understanding of each one of his films. That there's still some ambiguity in the endings of his movies even after reading this book just goes to show how talented Nolan is at crafting true head-scratching cinema. If you want the most thorough, behind-the-scenes look into 11 of the best movies to come out of the last three decades, then this is the book for you.

A relatable look into the mind of this generation's best director, I give The Nolan Variations 4.5 stars out of 5.

Say what you will about any of the "personality type" analyses out there, but being able to categorize an individual can help to understand them. Whether it's Myers-Briggs, Enneagrams, or the 5 Love Languages, being able to relate to a grouping that helps explain a personality is a great way to find an identity. These may all be pseudoscience, but they're harmless if used in the right ways. The 5 Love Languages of Children helps identify how these personality traits show up in kids.

As a parent, I found this book immensely useful because it revealed what the major (and minor) love languages of my two children are. Knowing how to best fill their "love tank" has helped my wife and I to manage our time with our kids. Knowing how these love languages may change as our kids grow up is just as useful as knowing that they need some of all the types (Gifts, Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch). After all, parenting kids who feel loved seems to be a much easier task than parenting kids who feel neglected.

With this personality type analysis, there's always a caveat. No single individual will fall entirely into a single category, and these categories may change over time. Still, it's fun to see my kids light up when they receive the love language they most identify with. Not only do I feel the 5 Love Languages are useful in understanding ourselves, but knowing how others (i.e., our spouses and children) receive love is important to growing these key relationships in our lives.

A useful tool to help parents love their children more effectively, I give The 5 Love Languages of Children 4.0 stars out of 5.

I'm not sure where I picked up this book on Kindle, but it finally took me two years to finish it (I'm excruciatingly slow at reading eBooks). To expand my horizons, I thought reading a romance novel would be good for me. Bring Down the Stars feels like a classic partly due to its heavy resemblance to Cyrano de Bergerac. Its tropes feel solidly planted in the genre, even to the point of being almost timeless. Still, the characters are a little frustrating.

When I finally sat down to focus on reading this book, it hooked me pretty well. The writing is beautifully poetic—which is most often seen from the male point of view (POV). The female POV was a good counterpoint to give the reader both sides of the story while also making the miscommunication between these star-crossed lovers a buildup to either passionate love or a complete destruction of the friendship. That dance between the two is likely what keeps people coming back to this genre. I get it now. It's maddening, but I get it.

I found the modern elements interesting because they could have easily been swapped out for similar situations in centuries past. As I mentioned above, this is basically a Cyrano re-telling, but with two athletic college students in love with the same farmer's girl. Which war the men went off to is irrelevant, as it could have just as easily been the American Revolution or Civil War. It frustrated me that there wasn't a conclusion in this book, as it would have been easy to accomplish without the need for a second book. If I feel up to exploring the genre again, I might pick that sequel up.

A modern take on a classic romance, I give Bring Down the Stars 3.5 stars out of 5.

In doing research for book based on the Ancient Puebloan society that used to inhabit the Mesa Verde cliff dwellings, I came across this book. Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed was an eye-opening examination of the factors that can lead to the destruction of a society that could have continued being successful if it weren't for poor resource management. What's frustrating is seeing some of these things becoming prominent in modern society, 20 years after Jared Diamond wrote this book.

While the book covers some case studies where the society identified the problem and moved to fix it, some examples Diamond gives are based on speculation—which one has to do with limited information surviving from those eras. And even though there is an emphasis on environmental factors, sometimes a string of bad years of drought is just the luck of the climate. Unfortunately, while there were hopeful stories of communities who turned away from their destruction, these examples all had one thing in common: the leaders chose to save their society.

I appreciated how relatable Diamond made this text. It wasn't overly academic, but it provided enough details to weave a story that was easy to follow. The cause-and-effect scenarios he presented made sense and provided sensible explanations that the limited data set appears to support. The problem is, even with this knowledge, seeing the path our current society is headed down does not instill the confidence that humanity has what it takes to save itself at the individual level. Of the societies on the brink that survived, their leadership needed to step in to stop the poor resource management. When there's no financial motivation to save the world, the current system seems on track to collapse sooner rather than later.

An approachable and eye-opening look at the factors that brought down empires, I give Collapse 4.0 stars out of 5.

As I work my way through the Pulitzer Prize-winning novels, I'm finding the modern ones hold up a lot better under scrutiny. There's usually some eye-opening element from a marginalized group, which is partly why these are important novels to recognize. For its time, I'm sure Less came off edgier than today because of the wider acceptance of LGBTQ+ characters. Still, the writing in this book is deserving of its Pulitzer status not because of the main character's sexuality, but rather by the humor and humanity present in these pages.

The odd thing is that I don't think a book like this would work quite as well with a straight protagonist because they basically fall into all those same "woe is me" tropes that loser white guy main characters exhibit in a lot of literature. Yes, Arthur Less can't commit to a relationship. Yes, he's avoiding accomplishing the things he's good at because he's having a midlife crisis. That he's gay actually makes things more relatable. It doesn't matter which gender men choose to love, they all have these problems—for better or worse.

I think the most surprising element of Less is its humor. I still recall some of the best written punchlines almost 5 months later (Volcano? It's closed). That the author uses the humor to lighten the depressing side of this book's plot is a godsend. Life is full of missed opportunities and burned bridges, so framing these situations with the soft blanket of humor helps make them more heartfelt. Even amongst all the exotic locations, the one common denominator is the individual who is there, trying to run from themselves. It doesn't get any deeper than that.

A humorous and heartfelt look at the midlife crisis of all men, I give Less 4.5 stars out of 5.

Having already watched the 2018 movie adaptation of Annihilation , I knew going into this book that it would be quite the trip. My expectations were mostly set on what was going to happen in this book, but not on how the author would convey these events. I was pleasantly surprised with something that felt just as disorienting. Told in the first-person perspective, Annihilation messes with the concept of an unreliable narrator in a way that I haven’t ever seen before. The real question is whether I understand anything now that I’ve seen the movie and read the book.

There’s a melancholy present in Annihilation that almost borders on nihilism. The way the main character seems to float through this world, carrying her trauma and relational scars around in an eerily monotonous and emotionless manner, is both unsettling and oddly comforting. Was this her attempt at obtaining closure? Did she want to find somewhere she truly belonged? Whatever the reason, she is propelled forward by forces outside her control, and she doesn’t resist any of the alien influence.

The prose in Annihilation is truly the star of the show here. Other writers might try to take a more scientific approach when dealing with aliens, but VanderMeer leans into the disorienting nature of Area X. I’ve been drunk a few times, but never high enough to hallucinate like this. Several times I had to stop and re-read a page to understand what was happening. Once I turned my mind off and let the words flow through me, I had a much more enjoyable time in this book. I don’t know if I’ll get through the rest of the trilogy, but this one was worth the read.

A trippy hallucination of a novel, I give Annihilation 4.0 stars out of 5.

There are plenty of books with authors as the main character, but Yellowface feels like the first time that the struggles have been expressed in such a realistic way. Most author protagonists seem to exist in this vacuum where nobody else in their close circles shares their love of writing and publishing stories. They have no network with other authors or can commiserate over another rejected manuscript. And while Yellowface takes a bold approach to addressing diversity in the publishing world, it still ultimately paints the main character as a villain.

One cannot overemphasize social media's effects on the modern publishing landscape. Anything authors can do to break through the noise, they’ll attempt just to get more traction to sell their book. Tons of talented authors are overlooked for a variety of reasons, but Yellowface asks whether pursuing marginalized voices has created the unintended consequence of marginalizing the voices that used to be promoted. The frustration is real, but Juniper’s actions are not the answer. The thrill of Yellowface’s plot is how long she’s able to get away with it before she’s caught and tried in the square of public opinion.

As an author, a lot of this book made me feel seen. We always tell ourselves that our fellow writers are not competition, but it’s difficult to see others succeed when our own works go unnoticed. Jealousy is real, but we work through it and celebrate with our fellow authors so that someday they can come alongside us and celebrate our victories as well. Even if the ending gets a little weird, the way R.F. Kuang gives an intimate look into this community of writers feels authentic enough to be a universal experience for most authors.

A gripping, tongue-in-cheek examination of author rivalry, I give Yellowface 4.5 stars out of 5.

When I first opened the novel, I had idea what to expect and I didn’t even if I knew I would like the book, but that quickly changed when I became addicted to the story. With an incredible mix of action and adventure, Drew Karpyshyn’s novel: “Darth Bane: Path of Destruction” is hard to beat. Readers join an Outer-Rim miner named Dessel on his journey to morph into his true self: Darth Bane. I personally enjoyed how Drew worded this book, with specific, yet easy to read details. Alongside a captivating storyline, there is nearly non-stop Star Wars action. If any readers thirst for a special Star Wars book that does not sacrifice action with dialogue, I would highly suggest Darth Bane: Path of Destruction.

(Hungry for more Drew? Check out the sequel of this book: Darth Bane Rule of two!)

“The Clue is in the Pudding” by Kate Kingsbury is a delightful read for those who enjoy a delicious mix of bone-chilling mystery and delightful drama. In it, Cicily Baxter, owner of the Pennyfoot Hotel, is hoping to have a very merry Christmas this year. She is planning on entertaining her guests at her annual Christmas party in order to draw in business. Alas, not everything is going as planned. Her head maid has gone to visit family, and the replacement is the most opinionated, fussy, and unfriendly person she has ever met. She causes all sorts of trouble with the rest of her staff. When things seem unable to get any worse, a guest dies mysteriously in his room, and the new maid is chief suspect. However, things are not exactly what they seem, and motives begin popping up left and right amongst the guests. Can Cicily sniff out the murderer before Christmas arrives? As part of the Pennyfoot Hotel series, it may require some thinking from the reader to fill in the holes of the characters’ backgrounds if they have not read any of the other books. The plot is somewhat long, but it is worth it once the end comes! For readers who like romance, suspense, and drama all in one, this book is sure to be a real treat!

The Portrait by Nikolai Gogol is one of his best short stories centering around a penniless artist, Chartkov, struggling to make his name in the art world and finds himself entranced by a portrait he buys at a merchant shop. With a steely face, build of a giant, and eyes that seem to pierce the soul, the portrait that he buys on an impulse at a run-down shop carries a mystery with it that haunts Chartkov both in his waking hours and in his sleep. As he is overcome by his financial difficulty, the strange portrait that he stashed away for fear of its gaze changes his life forever. With flowing imagery and an intrinsic description of human nature and its afflictions, The Portrait latches onto the reader’s heart and presents them with a fascinating account of Chartkov and his peculiar encounter with the portrait with uncanny realism and blended fantasy.

Nikolai Gogol's "The Overcoat" is a simple yet intriguing story of a man set upon buying a new overcoat despite his poverty-stricken life. Enamored with his job of copying documents at the office, Akaky never takes notice of the world around him, even when all the other workers around him gibe at his love for something so mundane as replicating documents and the intense manner of which he regards this dull job. However, he is sharply brought into reality when winter brings frigid weather, and he realizes his threadbare and tattered overcoat simply will not sustain Russia's winter. He begins his speculations into buying a new overcoat with as much zeal as he puts into his office work, yet he hardly expects what the future holds both for him and his overcoat. Both amusing and thought-provoking, Nikolai gives the reader insight into the life of an eccentric office worker laboring during the harsh winter and successfully blends farce comedy with blunt realism to create a short story that stirs the emotions and leaves the reader satisfied.

I began this book because I was interested in the author, Osamu Dazai, as some of his life and feelings were reflected in this work of literature. Overall, I enjoyed the perspective that Yozo brings on both life and humanity.

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai is a fictional story that follows the main character, Oba Yozo, throughout his tumultuous life as he feels estranged from humanity and those around him. Yozo as a child yearns for something in life which he cannot find in the untruthful and utilitarian way that the people he is surrounded by choose to live. As he searches for what it is to be an authentic human being while battling his own disconnect from society, his view on life as a whole changes. As time progresses Yozo’s life takes a bold path, highlighted by his erratic behavior in order to “qualify as a human” as he enters college, still struggling with his fear of exposure and masking his true nature under a comedic facade. The way that Yozo is characterized brings forth a layer of depth and instills a deeper understanding of both him and human nature through his perspective. The book touches on many themes that are prevalent even in our modern-day world such as alienation from society and individual struggle of expression as well as fear of being ostracized. The story of Yozo and his wayward life is intriguing, and I think that one of the reasons that it is still widely read and appreciated both in the West and in Japanese literature is because Yozo brings out the things in people which often are hidden away, revealing some of what it is to be human. His account as he goes through life also adds a refreshing take to things often perceived as mundane, inviting the reader to muse upon them and form their own opinion themselves. However, I was not able to fully enjoy the book because of the overly cynical view it took on life especially towards the end of the story which I believe is a reflection of the author’s similarly deteriorating life.

A novel about a civil war veteran alone (or at least he thinks he is) in the American frontier, Dances With Wolves is an exciting adventure story about belonging and acceptance for those different from you set in the 1860s. Lieutenant Dunbar, the main character, must come to terms with his Native American neighbors, his internal struggles, and his own past.

I enjoyed this book a lot more than I was expecting to, and it even made me laugh out loud several times. I really liked the description and the way Blake writes. I would recommend this book to anyone aged eleven or twelve and above, because of violence and one or two adult themes, though all of it is done very tastefully. Although technically there are no cowboys in this story, this book had a cowboy kind of feeling because of its setting and the characterization of Dunbar. It was quite entertaining and versatile. It is somehow both a lighthearted book and an in-depth commentary on how relationships define us as members of the same species, despite cultural boundaries and mentalities.

This book is about a motherless fourteen year old white girl named Lily. She must learn to overcome her own prejudice and grief, in addition to her struggles at home, which would not be possible without the help of three African-American beekeeper sisters and their unwillingness to give up on her. Although there is some adventure (there are conflicts with racists and Lily's father), mostly this book is a coming-of age novel and about Lily's search for a place where she belongs, growing up in the American South of 1964.
I personally strongly disliked this book, because I found the main character insufferable, but I can appreciate the writing style and
the thoughtfulness that was put into it. If you are looking for a coming-of-age story in which the writing is very descriptive and honest, maybe this book is for you.

The Crucible was a book I enjoyed simply because it is all a big metaphor. Even though the book is set at the time of the Salem Witch Trials, it is actually the author's views on the Red Scare in the US and "Mccarthyism". I love the character development throughout the story, and Miller truly makes them all come alive. The decisions they make, especially Proctor's, are very relatable and do not feel forced, which pushed me to keep reading. It is a beautiful play that takes a dark time in America to explain another dark time, and its use of rhetorical devices and fantastic writing makes it incredibly valuable.

The Things They Carried was a book I had to read for school, but one I started to enjoy. I love the way the author uses very descriptive language to portray every setting and character, making you feel like you are right there with them. The book does a greta job at addressing various moral dilemmas in society and how the "societal rules" change during times of peace and war. Overall this book was not my preferred genre, however the writing is superb and it is a great book to challenge thinking. While it may be hard to relate to characters at times, it definitely makes you stop and think about yourself and where you are.

Growing up, I was never the type of kid who complained to my math teacher with the common saying, "When am I going to use this in real life?" Instead, I was always trying to find the weird and fantastical things that made math interesting. Unfortunately, many people get to adulthood and work on important engineering projects having probably asked that "real life" question at some point in their past. Humble Pi is a collection of many such stories of when math goes wrong in real life.

I can appreciate how Parker formatted this book to poke fun at some of the common math errors that have led to real-world situations. Things like the page numbers counting backward, the chapter numbers being poorly rounded, or that there are 314 pages in a book with "Pi" in the title are not lost on me. I had heard of many of these amusing anecdotes about math, but learned plenty of new ones that gave me a good chuckle as simple oversights nearly led to disasters.

My only qualm with Humble Pi is the tonal whiplash of the stories. It's hard to keep laughing about mathematical foibles when every third story is how an error led to the deaths of hundreds of people. These stark reminders of the importance of checking and double checking our calculations were quite sobering. But when the very next story is making light of a fairly innocuous mistake in a jocular manner, it feels a little disrespectful of the people who lost their lives in the previous story (or the next one). Either way, this is an important book to read if you've ever wondered what "real life" math can (and can't) do.

Some amusing and sobering examples of "real life" mathematics, I give Humble Pi 4.0 stars out of 5.

WOW! This book is full to the brim of constant plot twists, intriguing character arcs, and creatively contrasts good vs. evil. It follows the life of Mr. Utterson who is dear friends with Dr. Jekyll.
After multiple concerning events occur, Mr. Utterson becomes worried for Dr. Jekyll and his eerie relationship with the cruel Mr. Hyde. The plot is beautifully developed as it follows the storyline of many characters while focusing on one main plot and theme.
I recommend this book because it is truly enthralling and I could not put it down!

As I'm working my way through Pulitzer winners and finalists, I approached Housekeeping with skepticism. I knew nothing about this book other than its inclusion on these lists for "high literature." Having now read it, this book completely underwhelmed me. I'm going to include this with other books of literature like One Hundred Years of Solitude or Ulysses , both of which I found extremely boring and lacking of any kind of plot that I could latch onto. At least this was short and had some occasionally flowery prose.

Even now, thinking back on what I read, I can't pick out anything significant that happened in this book. That I'm having trouble remembering what it was about should indicate how little impact it had on me. I vaguely remember there being something about an aunt who was a drifter and the bigger metaphor of "home is where the heart is." And, of course, extrapolating to the title, I can estimate that we must keep our hearts clean so we can live our best lives. Of course, this is all spitballing as even the synopses I've read to remind me of the plot don't help much either.

If Housekeeping left me with anything, it was a feeling. Like an ephemeral sense that the words that were used were meant as fluid poetry in narrative form. Would I recommend this book on its feeling alone? Probably not. But that's fine. Just because a book has many accolades and lots of people like it doesn't mean that I also have to enjoy it. Perhaps I'm more of a shallow reader for not "getting" these books of high literature, but I also know life is too short to spend time on unsatisfying books.

The essence of a deep poetic treatise on life but in an extremely boring package, I give Housekeeping 2.0 stars out of 5.

The political realm is filled with conflicting messages about how economics affects the American people, and what can be done to refine American economics. Thomas Sowell eloquently presents facts and logic about the most common fallacies used by politicians. He covers topics such as the gender wage gap, and the housing market, and that titles of bills or movements are often misleading.
This book is very informative concerning the consequences of championing big government, and not allowing free-market capitalism to run the country. It is a wonderful book to read if you want to learn about the foundation of the American economic system, and how it can be made better so every American can soar with purpose.

Until now, I've enjoyed the somewhat serial format of the novellas from the Murderbot Diaries series. Each story grows the story of the main character with a concise plot that does a little world building along the way. It didn't matter if the characters changed between each book, as the focus was always on the first person perspective. With Exit Strategy, we loop back to the beginning as old faces come back into the major thrust of the plot.

I appreciate that there seems to be an overarching narrative across this series. Now that things are connecting together, it feels like a much more thought-out universe instead of the "flavor of the month" stories that the series could have become. Granted, with each one being so short, this book feels like a solid arrival in the second half of the entire story arc—maybe even the pivotal half-way point. The more the titular Murderbot learns about their universe, the more they cannot silently stand by and let things happen. There's no more time to be passive.

Perhaps the best part about each iteration of this series is how the SecUnit grows to become more human. There are legitimately tough decisions that come up in these novellas that cause the main character to face a choice that either reinforces their programming or pushes them down the path away from those murderbot tendencies. And while Exit Strategy didn't have quite the impact of Rogue Protocol , there's at least an end in sight for where this sequence of events will logically take us. I'm hooked now. I want to see how this all ends.

Familiar faces return as the larger plot comes further into focus, I give Exit Strategy 4.0 stars out of 5.