Myrto

I really, really wanted to enjoy this book. I wanted to laugh until tears were coming down my face. I wanted to, but I didn't. I chuckled a few times, laughed out loud once or twice.

I saw some clips of Carrie Fisher's one woman show (from which this book is drawn), and found it laugh-out-loud funny. So I had high hopes for the book.

It could have been really, really funny. She's a very witty person, and she had some great material (just her parents' story alone is enough for a pretty funny book), but she squandered it in this book.

Basically, my impression of the book is that it's more or less a transcript of the show. There wasn't much care or effort put into transforming the material into something book-like. And that's a crying shame because, with a little more care and a little more work, the stories could have been fleshed out into a truly funny, sometimes sad, sometimes crazy book.

I'm imagining what a wordsmith like David Sedaris would do with this book, at least the Sedaris of 13 years ago. His ability to craft sentences and paragraphs draws the hilarious and the poignant into close proximity, which is what a book like Fisher's needs.

She's talking about her strange Hollywood family, Star Wars, her bipolar disorder, her broken relationships, her addictions: poignant mixed with hilarious is exactly what is called for.

Instead, we get a few really good one-liners, which are obviously from Fisher's live show. My favorite was: "I don't have a problem with drugs so much as a I have a problem with sobriety." Good stuff.

I wish it could have been carried throughout the book.

I really enjoyed this. I've read some reviews that suggested that the Berlin wall itself wasn't enough to merit a whole book. Having read the book, though, I disagree. This was a really engaging discussion of the events before, during, and after the Berlin wall's presence in the center of Berlin.

The book starts with a long discussion of the history of Germany, which gets a little dry, but it's all very interesting. The book is full of stories about the people who ordered the wall built (party officials), people who actually built the wall, and the people whose lives were affected by the wall's construction. I also appreciated the perspective of officials in Western Europe and the US, who at least initially, were not opposed to the division of Germany (and by extension, Berlin) into two parts.

There are some disturbing stories and photographs in the book; stories of people who were willing to risk their lives to escape East Berlin didn't always have a happy ending.

I finished this book several weeks ago, so I can't go into more detail (had to return it to the library), but I thought this was definitely worth reading, and maybe worth reading again.

Thorough, but not exactly readable. It's kind of like reading an encyclopedia or other reference work, though the topic is very entertaining.

Very well-written and researched. I really enjoyed reading this, though it took me awhile. These 19th century gentlemen certainly had fascinating lives. They just decided, "Well, I guess I'll learn some engineering," or "I guess I'll be an architect." And then they did, no four year degree required.

Olmstead was a fascinating character, and the other fascinating character in the book was, as the title suggests, America in the 19th century. I frankly could have used more of 19th century America, which seems like a wonderful premise. This strange and fertile moment in our history, in which everything seems possible, is just how Olmstead's life feels in this book.

Now, it's a bit dry in the writing. But I could forgive that for the richness of the topic.

Recommended if you like American history, or the history of landscape architecture.

I wanted to like this book, really I did. I mostly enjoyed it: it's a good counterbalance to all the work by atheist writers like Hitchens and Dawkins, who tend to be a bit inflammatory and polemical. I have asked before in my book reviews for someone to write an inspiring, deeply-felt book from a non-religious perspective, and I hoped that Epstein's was it.

It was close.

I enjoyed his emphasis on how one's lack of belief can lead to greater compassion, understanding, and empathy in one's dealings with the world. I liked the book's scope and positivity as well. I particularly enjoyed the chapter in which he uses the biblical 10 commandments to create a list of 10 guidelines for nonreligious people, and I liked his plea that nonreligious people involve themselves in interfaith projects.

But I was really disappointed in what appears to be his main project, which is convincing non-believers to join the "denomination" of secular humanism. Throughout the book, every challenge that appears to atheists seems to be solved by joining together as Humanists. It's not surprising, I guess, that the overall tone of this book is that of a minister, since Epstein is a Humanist campus minister.

OK, so joining together isn't a terrible thing, but one of the problems with atheists is that we/they tend not to join denominations. I can see Epstein's point: if atheists are ever going to overcome the huge stigma we face as non-believers, it's going to take "coming out" en masse, showing everyone that we are nice people after all.

This is a good story, but the translation leaves a lot to be desired. The translator seems to have decided that if he or she used a lot of American colloquialisms, it would sound like native English. But the excessive use of colloquialisms in this book just makes it sound kind of like a clunky translation.

At any rate, if you can get past the translation, the story itself is pretty compelling and the details of the mystery are good. I had figured out the answer, though, by the time I was halfway through the book.

I didn't like this one as much as I've liked other Anna Pigeon mysteries. In this book, Anna Pigeon is taking a leave of absence from her job, staying in New Orleans. Typically, she stumbles across a mystery while trying to take it easy.

I thought that, while Anna as a character continues to grow and change, this story kind of stagnated. The other characters were kind of cardboard, not much behind them.

My biggest complaint, however, is the setting, which is what draws me to the other Pigeon mysteries. The beautiful, weird, wild, or otherwise vivid character of each of the other Pigeon settings is what I love the most. Whether it's Ellis Island in New York City or Isle Royale, each novel's setting is as big a part of the book as the story itself.

But in this book, New Orleans is reduced to two things: child prostitution and voodoo. I live near New Orleans, have been there many times, and I have to say that it's annoying whenever a TV show, movie, or book uses voodoo as the one thing to make New Orleans unique. Maybe people in NOLA are into voodoo, who knows? But as a literary device, I find it kind of cheap, essentializing one facet of the urban landscape.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to Anna's next adventure, but I hope she ventures beyond New Orleans into the rest of Louisiana, which has just as much fodder for weirdness as NOLA!

I saw the BBC TV series and liked it very much, so I expected to like the novels. This was the first one I read, even though it's the seventh in the series. Great pacing, a good story, and the main character, Kurt Wallander, is a satisfyingly complex man to keep the series moving along.

Good mystery, with a different twist. The protagonist is homeless, a former mental patient. She's accused of being a serial killer, and her back story is told in flashbacks. It's well told, in a surprisingly short novel. I enjoyed it.

Recommended if you like mysteries or crime novels.

I enjoyed this book, but with a few qualifications.

To start, the book should perhaps be titled, "Some of the Weird Things People Believe," since the book doesn't really get into *why* people believe the things they do. With that caveat, I did enjoy the book for the most part.

The author's central premise is to apply scientific or logical reasoning to some of the more well-known fringe beliefs in the US/Europe. If a fringe belief system calls itself scientific or uses the discourse of science/logic, Shermer's belief is that they should be open to being evaluated with the same measuring stick.

He makes a big point that he's not trying to poke any holes in religious belief or faith. Rather, he underlines (several times) that religion and faith have nothing to do with science and reason, and that one can happily enjoy both logic and faith.

The first section of the book is a good nutshell introduction to logical and scientific reasoning, with some tidbits of the history of scientific inquiry thrown in.

The second section deals with creationism, or more specifically, "creation science." Shermer makes another big point that he doesn't have any bones to pick with creation beliefs. In fact, he outlines several other belief systems in the world with a similar creation myth to that of Christians. His problem is with "creation scientists," those who purport to use science and the scientific method to position their religious beliefs in the scientific community.

The third section of the book deals with Holocaust deniers. I found this fascinating, since I didn't realize this really existed. Again, because the deniers use the discourse of historical, logical inquiry, Shermer felt that they should be subject to an evaluation based on the same principles.

Other sections in the book include an analysis Ayn Rand and the cult of objectivism and fortunetellers/psychics.

Clearly, Shermer's expertise is in creationism and Holocaust denial. These two sections occupy 2/3 of the book. And this is one of the weak points, I think. The other chapters are tacked on, almost as afterthoughts by a publisher who thought that the creationism/deniers weren't enough for a book on their own. I also suspect publishers in the unfortunate title.

Shermer knows a lot about creation "science" and Holocaust denial, as well as the actual scientific facts about the origins of human life, and the Holocaust. Those two sections are the most compelling of the book, since his expertise comes out strongly.

Though it's beyond control of the author, the printing and publishing is also sub-par.

I thought this book was pretty good, not as quirky and unique as the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, but still all right. I didn't mind the long philosophical tangents either.

What I like most about this book (and the others in the series) are the vivid descriptions of Scotland and Edinburgh. I love how Isabel seems to love Scotland so much. The other characters are also interesting: Jamie the bassoon player, Cat the deli owner, and Grace the housekeeper who attends spiritualist meetings.

I have more of a complaint with the direction the series took after the first couple of books: what started out as a fairly quirky mystery series seems to be turning into a major sap-fest. But that's a review for another book.

I sort of enjoyed this book, and I sort of didn't.

To preface my impressions of this book, I do agree with most of Hitchens' basic premises. I don't believe in God, and I do agree that religious fanaticism has resulted in plenty of damage to the human race.

Unlike many other atheist writers, Hitchens doesn't discriminate: he includes the Eastern religions (Hinduism and Buddhism, for ex) in his list of religions that have "poisoned everything." I thought that his indictments of Eastern religions were interesting, mostly because I wasn't as aware of how those belief systems have also created problems in the world, since I'm far more familiar with Judeo-Christian religious issues.

The book has some downsides, though, one of which is Hitchens' rambling, ranty writing style. I know that was his stock in trade, but it can get old in a full length book.

My other, main complaint is not with Hitchens book itself, but with the general dearth of inspirational atheist writing. The pantheon of atheist literature seems to be in this vein--intentionally confrontational, bent on tearing down other people's belief systems.

This is Hitchens' (and Dawkins') main point, I think, which is a shame. Hitchens is approaching the subject of religion and belief (or lack thereof) from the perspective of philosophy. He believes that the world would be a better one without religious belief, and he was trying to convince others of that (leaving aside the fact that a book titled "God is Not Great" isn't going to attract many religious readers).

I guess I've had too much anthropology, though, because I don't think religion poisons everything. Sure, it poisons some things, but as an anthropologist, I accept that humans want and need religion. It's here to stay, and that's not a bad thing. I think it's up to thinking people to moderate religious fanaticism, but I don't see any point in railing against something that will continue to exist in our societies.

Where are the inspirational atheist writers?! Don't drag us down into petty mud-slinging wars with religious fundamentalists. Make us feel the awe and power of the mysteries of evolution and the incomprehensibility of the infinity of the universe!

I recently reread this after many years and it's been interesting to note my reaction.

While I was definitely inspired by the lofty ideals and sweeping language of this book on my first reading, my much-older self is forced to note the many, many holes in Thoreau's premises and arguments. His passion can't be denied, but his prose reads exactly like the "minimalists" of the present day, who pare their belongings down to 50 things, or 100 things, or 15 things, or whatever the current fad is.

The thing that rubs me the wrong way about Thoreau and the minimalists is their insistence that their chosen life is the only one worth living, and that all other ways of living are suspect, wasteful, or otherwise undesirable.

Yes, I'll read it again for its exploration of the beauty of nature and the value of finding inspiration in your own backyard, but I lost some idealism along the way, and perhaps one needs idealism to fully appreciate Thoreau.

It took me way longer than I expected to read all three of these classic spy novels by Le Carré. I read T,T,S,S last year, but ended up reading it again, just so I remembered the back story for the second and third novels.

The good news is that these are great books, full of fascinating detail about the Cold War spy world. The characters, especially the secondary characters, are subtly drawn, but they're memorable for sure. Le Carré doesn't spend a lot of time on straight-up description, but each character grows more into herself/himself throughout the stories.

The stories are great, but are pretty slow moving. If you're not prepared for the cerebral nature of these novels, you might be unpleasantly surprised. I think that their slow quality is reflective of what most Cold War spy work was: brain work and research. I hadn't expected it, and it took me several chapters to settle into the slow pacing of the stories.

The first novel, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, tells the story of George Smiley, a retired member of the British MI-6 who is called back to investigate the possibility of a mole in the service. The second and third novels continue the story, as the uncovering of the mole only turned up more questions.

I enjoyed these novels very much. Recommended if you like mysteries, British novels, cerebral novels, and spy stories.

I gobbled this up as fast as I could. Not because I loved it, though. I *liked* it quite a bit, but I had a similar reaction reading to "The Pillars of the Earth." Basically, the story and its characters are super-compelling: you HAVE to find out what happens.

But when you find out what happens, it's almost always bad. Just when you start to like a character, he is beheaded, she's raped, a dog is dead, a baby is dead, etc.

The world of the book is fantastic, though. That's the first part of writing great fantasy: having a complex, believable world. The detail in this world, all of its history, is wonderful.

The sheer size of this book meant that the tension ("what's going to happen?!") and the constant bad things ("oh, he's dead now") made it totally exhausting to read.

I might want to read the next book in the series, but I can't do it yet. I have to recover first.

I gave this second book in the Maisie Dobbs series a chance, after a lukewarm reaction to the first book. I ended up not really liking the second one either, which is a shame, because they have such great potential. A young, female detective in London in the years after World War I sounds like a great premise for a mystery series. But it's the execution of the characters that I just didn't like.

In this second book, Maisie Dobbs is investigating the disappearance of the daughter of a wealthy store owner. Her disappearance is linked to the war and several other people who have died. The mystery in "Birds of a Feather" is actually compelling, with good plot twists, strong details, and clues, but the writing is something I just can't get over.

Maisie Dobbs herself is drawn to be just a little too perfect and a little too precious. In a mystery series, I just can't stand for the main character to have "shiny, jet-black tresses," or to constantly be pushing "loose tendrils" of hair out of her face. In my experience, tresses and tendrils belong in romance novels, not in mysteries. I said in my review of book #1 that Maisie Dobb's absolute control and perfection also get on my nerves, and she's still perfect in book #2. She's never flustered, never put out, never says the wrong thing. I guess I prefer my heroes and heroines to be a little more human, and a little less perfect.

In all, I love the premise of these books, but the writing of the main character is enough to turn me off. It's all just a little bit too precious and cloying for me. YMMV.