Rob

Intense and brutal and hits way too close to home for comfort, which is, in part, the point. The near-future dystopia feels VERY near these days, and while technically this is speculative fiction, it's barely speculative and barely fiction. There's a little something extra to it beginning in 2024, the current year, but it was written in 1993 and obviously RL 2024 isn't where book 2024 is. But fast-forward 20 or 30 years, and maybe?

This is a tough read, and I don't know if I can say I "enjoyed" it, but it's certainly well-executed, believable, and upsetting. I've read a bunch of reviews trying to see not only what others thought but also whether I had missed key takeaways -- I don't think I did -- and I am struck by the things a lot of the negative reviews are complaining about. Some of then don't like "Earthseed," which is protagonist Lauren's invented religion based around change. I saw one person complaining that it was unbelievable because the police -- and the book starts in LA, so it would be the LAPD! -- are depicted as unhelpful and corrupt. A couple people didn't like the prose; people are entitled to their opinions, but I thought it was perfectly fine.

An early takeaway for me was preparing for impending disaster instead of pretending it won't happen, but Butler wrote this to envision the near-future based on the continuation of contemporary trends. So I think a better takeaway more accurate to her perspective is to effect change now to avoid this bleak future. I wish I were more optimistic about that.

This book was written by a nice person with a good ear for humor. Unfortunately, it is basically about nothing. It is an erratic collection of things that Mindy Kaling decided were good conversation topics, which is an excellent format for a conversation between friends, but which unfortunately is not well-suited to a book.

Vonnegut's ninth novel. I enjoyed it – I've never met a Vonnegut book I didn't like – but this is somewhat different from the style I've noticed in his others I've read.

There is nothing fantastical here – no Ice-9, no aliens, no time travel. Hardly a requirement for a Vonnegut novel, of course. I didn't realize this until after, but there's another common Vonnegut motif absent here, the description of common objects in accurate-yet-alien terms.

This is, instead, a fairly straightforward morality play, a biting satire about charity, loving thy neighbor, and how people ought to act. Eliot Rosewater, drunk and heir to the Rosewater fortune, suddenly reverses course from most of his family, and begins using his fortune – as well as the rest of himself – to set up shop in his nominal hometown in Rosewater County and begin helping everyone there. With anything.

I don't sound enthusiastic about this, but I did like it a lot, and I consider it a thoughtful, clever, worthy addition to Vonnegut's catalog.

The Book of Lost Things looks like a lot of things it isn't, but it is about those things.

I know that's a strange statement. The Book of Lost Things reads a lot like a children's book, and it reads a lot like a fairy tale, but it isn't really either. It concerns itself with the story of David, a young boy whose mother passes away before the story has begun. Struggling to come to terms with the loss and life as it continues on without her, he finds himself in a fairytale world – not a Disney fairytale world, but a darker, Grimm-esque one.

Without wanting to spoil anything for a new reader, the Book of Lost Things borrows liberally from traditional fairy tales, and assembles a new story using them as ingredients. Readable purely on a narrative level, there is a more complex layer underneath, one that – at least in the Kindle edition that I read – is explored in a lengthy afterword, including an interview with the author, as well as a rundown of the stories and themes from which Connolly borrows, written mostly by Connolly himself.

A smart book, smarter than I think it might get credit for. The afterword is worth reading in full.

Not bad; not as good as I'd hoped.

This was technically a reread; I read it for the first time in freshman English in high school, over a decade ago. Like many of you I was conscious only sporadically during that class, and I didn't remember it very well.

I decided to reread it after reading The Poisonwood Bible, also by Kingsolver, and it didn't do as much for me as that one did. It's... I don't want to say lower-stakes, but it lacks the gravitas lent by the Congo crisis, and it does not share the same cynicism. The opposite is true, in fact – The Bean Trees is a mostly optimistic book, bullish on shared humanity and community, not that it lacks conflict or trouble entirely. It concerns a girl from a backwater town who drives west to find her place with a little girl she is unceremoniously given along the way, and the people she meets when she does.

This one isn't a waste of time by any means, but it isn't the heavy, crushing experience of The Poisonwood Bible. Worth a look all the same.

Interesting and ambitious ideas betrayed by lazy, sloppy writing and execution.

There's a lot I want to like about this book. I am usually a sucker for what I think of as “Alice In Wonderland” type books – ones where a protagonist is thrust into a world the rules of which they don't comprehend. You know the type – Gaiman's Neverwhere is the one that springs to mind, but there are scores of examples across all kinds of media. That's what this is. Unfortunately, it's a big letdown.

The Crooked Letter is the first entry in Sean Williams' series and concerns itself with Hadrian and Seth, a pair of “mirror twins,” or twins who are reflections of each other, right down to one of them having his heart on the wrong side of his chest. They are, of course, special and distinct from other twins, because blah blah blah plot device. (I have never heard of “mirror twins” and I assume the author made up the concept but I haven't bothered to check.) The book splits time between their perspectives as they attempt to stop the world from being completely destroyed.

Almost immediately, although I don't think it was intended, we learn to hate the protagonists, because both of them are irritating, whiny, immature babies. Along the way we meet a wide cast of otherworldly characters, whose primary functions are generally either to attempt to kill one of the protagonists or to keep other characters from doing so.

In classic bad book trope fashion, our would-be heroes “just know” things with alarming frequency. Sometimes events transpire the apparent importance of which is underscored via repeated references, yet are then not explored. Entire characters are introduced to no apparent purpose beyond cryptic mutterings. The climax contains a deus ex machina most notable for its blatancy. All of this is packaged in uninspired prose.

I really can't recommend this and don't intend to continue the series. Two stars for the strength of the ideas that do work.

This is the fifteenth Dresden book. By now you should know what to expect: a fun urban fantasy read, pretty formulaic, heavy on the deus ex machina, one of the better examples of this sub-sub-genre. As an exemplar of type it's pretty solid, but it remains B-movie material. A friend felt this was a substantial improvement on the last several outings; I don't know that I agree. But it's fun.

Short version: a lot of fun, a noir classic for a reason.

Longer version: I picked up the 1946 Bogart film adaptation some time back when I was on a Bogart-and-noir kick. I don't remember it very well; it didn't seem especially coherent, and mostly I remember thinking The Maltese Falcon was better. I left it on the shelf and haven't watched it since.

That's really a shame, because the book is excellent. I started reading it when A Dance With Dragons didn't grab me right off and I decided to detour to something else until i was more in the mood for it, and this was the book of the month for the Something Awful Book Club. My understanding is that some of the seedier details were left out of the film for reasons of decency, and without them the movie doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I'll rewatch the film soon and see if that's true. Hopefully it will be more enjoyable now that I know what's going on.

I'm always a little surprised when I see older works with snappy dialogue, even though that makes no sense. Overcoming that illogical mental hurdle was what first got me into Bogart. The book has it too, and some admittedly overwrought writing, but that's sort of a hallmark of the genre, I think. The prose will probably not win awards. But it is very fun nonetheless.

This one is a quick read, weighing in at about 234 pages. It's worth a look, especially if you can imagine all of Marlowe's lines in Bogart's voice.

A perfectly adequate book that nonetheless didn't do much for me.

This is a 1970s era military SF book, in the spaceships-lasers-and-aliens mold. It deals with a conflict between humans and an alien race called the Taurans, about whom we never learn all that much. The plot revolves around the centuries-long conflict, narrated by drafted soldier Mandella; via relativity, he remains part of the war for much longer than a normal human lifespan. Which is where the other side of the story lies: constant culture shock, as for Mandella only a few years pass – relativistically speaking – while his home goes through decades and decades.

I suspect this was a stronger work in the '70s, when some of these ideas were more novel; these days it's all rather more pedestrian. Mandella's cynicism, likely a reflection of the post-Vietnam era in which the book was written, still plays well.

Bit disappointed with an ending that didn't feel brave enough, both for Mandella and the eminently predictable state of the war.

Competent YA entry. Departs from the norm in some ways, to its credit, but is otherwise more formulaic than I'd like. Begins to explain its magic system, which I always like, but stops trying almost as soon as it starts.

Negatives: “Darkling” is a dumb name. Ostensibly strong female protagonist is nonetheless defined by what the men in her life think of her.

______

Changing my review a bit after chewing it over a bit more, and lowering the rating slightly.

It's a YA book and standards tend to get lowered, but they shouldn't be, really. This one does a lot of things I want to like, but then it goes and messes them up. Here's a list, spoilered because it contains major plot points:

- "Darkling" is a dumb name. It also predisposes the reader to think he's a villain. As a result,- The reversal sort of got me. I assumed from the beginning that the Darkling was bad news, but after taking so long to reveal himself, I eventually started to assume I was wrong, and was consequently surprised by the reveal. But it shouldn't have been telegraphed like that in the first place.- I like it when fantasy books explain their magic systems, and it started to do that and it was great. Then it stopped explaining almost immediately after it started. Boo.- When Alexei died in the beginning, I thought, "Huh, a YA book that isn't afraid to kill people, cool." Then it failed to do the same with any major characters. I won't say I wanted Mal to die in the Fold near the end, but his salvation was awfully deus ex machina and ultimately unsatisfying. It feels a lot less brave when everyone who "matters" is safe.- Similarly, in the very beginning, I was ecstatic to see that the orphan girl of unknown parentage hadn't turned out to be a super powerful sorceress or whatever. Then it turned out she was. I know YA books don't often subvert tropes, but it looked like maybe this one was gonna be special.- It's nice to see a strong female protagonist. It's less nice to see her value still defined wholly by what the men in her life think of her, and that was a constant. First Mal, then the Darkling, then Mal again.

I'm biased, this is a friend's book, but I'd have rated it highly regardless. Does a good job of communicating the world in medias res — I discovered tonight that I have been incorrectly writing “media” for years — and I quite like the world and would love to read more books in it. Although the conclusion may preclude ones with the same groups and characters. Be warned there are some pretty graphic sex scenes, definitely not one for younger readers.

Enjoyed this one a fair bit after impulse buying it after seeing it... I don't even remember where. It's a memoir and an exercise in cultural anthropology about, mostly, throwing oneself headlong into the subcultures of the communities built around musical acts Phish and Insane Clown Posse.

By way of disclosure, I was really into Phish in high school, although I was that rare Phish kid who didn't use any drugs, even pot. I stopped paying much attention to them when they went in hiatus, although I still throw on an album once in a while. I have no particular prior exposure to Insane Clown Posse, with the exceptions of hearing a song once and watching what I still consider to be a tremendously unfortunate guest appearance on Adam Corolla and Drew Pinsky's call-in show Loveline, both years ago.

The author is the head writer for the Onion AV Club, and writes well. The book's a quick read; it bounces back and forth between its two subject scene. The Phish chapters mostly filled me with fond memories from my late teens, and it made me happy to see that so much of what I liked about the scene has survived intact despite the numerous obstacles on the way; I'm glad as well that Rabin doesn't shy away from mentioning the less savory aspects that have cropped up over the years, like the hard drugs that have become more common, or the toll that years of following a band around while using them takes on many people. In case you are wondering whether an accurate assessment of the Phish scene can be made without doing a lot of drugs, never fear. Rabin did a SHITLOAD of drugs. That's made his experience fundamentally different from mine, but it was still very recognizable for me.

The Insane Clown Posse chapters are a wholly different experience for me, in a way that both subjects will be different for most readers: I was never into this band. Rabin's developed an affection for the band and for its fans, and has some idea of what draws people to the band and to its scene. Frankly I still find a lot about the Gathering of the Juggalos kind of horrifying. But I feel like I understand them a little better, and I've lost some of my Juggalophobic tendencies, so to speak.

Solid book, easy read.

I read this because I'm gearing up to start DJing social dances (that is, dances for people who dance a specific style of partner dancing). A lot of the advice in it, though I don't doubt it's good advice, is about things that probably won't ever affect me – I'm not a club DJ spinning electronic music for a chemically-altered crowd and I'm not looking to become an internationally recognized name who jets to Ibiza to play out. In spite of that, I really liked this book, for several reasons.

- It's thorough. It doesn't address my situation much directly, but there's plenty in here for me, and a lot more for most DJs.

- It's preparatory. I feel much more comfortable and ready post-read.

- It's fun. Light, witty writing.

- It's no-bullshit. It gets to the point and doesn't snow you.

The authors' love of music comes through loud and clear too. If you're a DJ, or want to be, because you love music, and I hope you are, you're in good company.

It's a small thing, but I really enjoyed some of the side quotes from famous DJs.

It is a product of its time, and some details are a little out-of-date. It talks mainly about vinyl and CDJs – both of which are still in regular use, don't get me wrong. It does talk about digital DJing and MP3s, but it refers to things like Audiogalaxy, which hasn't existed for maybe 15 years. It doesn't mention current, popular DJing software packages – no Traktor, no Serato, no Ableton – because they didn't really exist at the time. You'll definitely need to dip a toe in elsewhere to get current info. (I use Traktor and I like it, if you're looking for a recommendation.) But most of the information is still on point.

In a word, horrifying.

This was a rare nonfiction read for me, brought to my attention as an Amazon.com editor's pick. It pains me to tick the “nonfiction” box on my Goodreads shelf, and so acknowledge that this really happened to someone – in fact, to a lot of someones. And it continues to happen to more of them, and most of them don't get out.

The basics: This is a memoir by Jenna Miscavige Hill, about her upbringing in the Church of Scientology and her escape from it. You may recognize the name Miscavige; it is also the surname of David Miscavige, the current head of Scientology. Hill is his niece. I imagine that by now anyone reading this book is aware of Scientology, but just in case: Scientology is nominally a religion, founded by science-fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard. It's drawn widespread criticism for its treatment of members and their associates, widespread derision for some of its claims, and has developed a reputation for litigious suppression of its critics. It also claims many prominent adherents, most famously Tom Cruise. I suspect that the Scientology experience for people like Cruise differs dramatically from the experience for the average member.

There are several important facts to keep in mind when reading this book. First, as Miscavige's niece, Hill is sheltered from the worst of what less connected members might have to endure. Second, as Miscavige's niece, she is inescapably a person of interest to the church, and an average member is likely subject to far less scrutiny and micromanagement. Third, Hill was a member of the “Sea Org,” an organization inside the church, life within which is apparently rather different from so-called “public membership.”

As for recommendation for or against reading it, I can't make one, as it will be dependent on your interest in the subject matter. For what it is I enjoyed it, if one can be said to enjoy something like this, and I think as first authorships go it's well-written, or else well-edited. For me it was a fascinating look inside the workings of a highly secretive organization with a reputation for comic book levels of villainy.

This was educational and enjoyable, though it took me a while to get through. It's very readable, but the sheer quantity of information makes it dense.

I learned a lot here. One thing I learned is that I don't want to be a recording engineer. But I also learned a lot not only about miking techniques, which the bulk of the book is concerned with, but also about instruments in general, including ones that I play and thought I knew well.

The first section is about general microphone theory, miking techniques, models, etc. The second section has specific advice for miking a wide variety of instruments, including one or two I've never heard of, and I've been playing music for over thirty years. The third section is interviews with very famous recording engineers — like, if you know much about the field, you'll know a lot of these names. I barely know it at all and even I know some of them.

I didn't expect to be into the interviews, but I was. There's an array of perspectives, from people who like to use a ton of mics and record everything and process the hell out of the sound to people who really just want to set up a few mics and call it a day.

One MAJOR takeaway for me: I listen to quite a bit of punk, the scene for which has a thing for authenticity and tends to distrust post-processing. But really, there's no such thing as a “true” studio sound. Absolutely every record's sound reflects deliberate choices in how it was recorded; you have to make those choices one way or another, and your choice will change the sound from the way it would sound if you'd made a different choice.

While I rated this highly, I can only recommend it if you're interested in the nitty-gritty of the topic. It's quite good, but a general-interest book it is not.

Excellent book that explains all? of the major mahjong variants. I've played Hong Kong Old Style and Riichi, but I'm still pretty green, and was looking for a bit of detail and clarification, especially on scoring. In a couple of places I'd have liked a bit more clarity, but overall it seems admirably clear and complete. I can't say for sure that it has every major variant, but it has both variants I play and every other variant I know of, and several international rule sets I've never heard of besides. It also collects a number of the more popular variations on each version. It has information on why things are the way they are as well, which was great, and explanations of how to perform various setups, which is a very good idea in the modern era when a ton of mahjong play is online where all of that stuff is automated. For a very niche audience, to be sure, but I recommend it highly for that audience.

EDIT: I see many of the other reviewers didn't like this at all. A number of them appear to play American mahjong; there are tons of international versions of the game, but American is very unusual compared to the others. Most notably, standardized American mahjong allows as valid only hands that are printed on the official league card, which changes every year and which you must purchase. If you're interested specifically in American mahjong, there are probably better options. If you aren't sure what you want to play, or you want clarification on a specific version, this is a great source for that. If you don't know what to play, I would suggest either Hong Kong Old Style, probably the most popular version of Chinese mahjong, or Riichi, a popular Japanese variant that's made major inroads in the West through media like anime and the Yakuza series of video games. If you already have a local group, of course, you're best advised to learn whatever they play.

I picked this up because I like Justin Fenton's work and wanted to support him, and because I wanted a bit more understanding of the Gun Trace Task Force scandal, which was legendary in Baltimore. One of the worst police corruption scandals to come to light that I'm aware of.

I already knew the rough outlines of the scandal, but this book gave me a more nuanced understanding — the dirty cops are dirty, sure, but there's a broader picture to be had. Senior leadership doesn't have to be dirty themselves for this to happen. The right incentives, lax supervision, etc. can create an environment for this kind of misconduct.

I was a bit surprised that the book ended when it did, around 81% on my Kindle. The rest is endnotes, acknowledgments, and so on. The book was in the weeds of the investigation and then ended almost abruptly. I thought there would be a bit more detail on the aftermath, and on the death of Sean Suiter, but I guess there are too many unknowns there.

I really enjoyed this book, but I can only recommend it to the fellow nerds of today for whom it was written. It contains references to all kinds of modern geek culture, ranging from Galaga to Cory Doctorow to Cap'n Crunch (not the cereal), and feels like the author is “one of us,” and not in a trying-too-hard way. If you can identify all three of the things I listed, give this one a good look.

Not very impressed with this one. It came highly recommended, but I found it shallow, skating by on the shock value its author believes his choice of vocabulary has. I kept waiting for the part where Sutton dished out all the good advice he was promising, and could hardly believe it when I realized the book was ending, it having offered so little.

Here's the advice: You're probably a jerk sometimes even though you think you aren't, and you should stop. When the problem is someone else, try to tune it out until you can find a new job.

There. That was a lot faster than reading this. The most useful advice I got out of it was to monitor my own behavior more closely. I don't recommend this one.

I don't know why this took me almost six months to read. It's 200 pages.

Very PoMo, no narrative to speak of. Beautiful prose. Mostly Marco Polo describing boatloads of cities to Kublai Khan. Individual cities' descriptions are quite short. A theme or themes do emerge, but as there's not a clear narrative thread, I didn't have a hook that made me want to pick it up and read more. I guess that's why it took six months. I don't read a lot of postmodern lit, so this might be a me problem.