ASK Musings

Rating:
3.5

In a nutshell:
Sybil is a retired, divorced law clerk who writes letters (and occasionally emails) to pretty much anyone and everyone. We get a look at the letters she sends (and receives) over the course of a decade.

Best for:
Those who enjoy small stories that take place over longer periods of time.

Quote that made me think:
N/A (which is kind of surprising)

Why I chose it:
Book club.

Review:
This is an interesting way to tell someone’s story. It is mostly in Sybil’s own words, but so much is not included. It spans a decade, and we probably get no more than 20 letters each year. Letters will reference phone calls and such, which makes sense as no one communicates solely via correspondence, but its interesting what the author chooses to include and chooses to leave out.

There are a few different ‘plots’ – Sybil’s relationship with her adult children, her own adoption, the loss of a child, navigating a progressive illness (among other things). And they weave in as one would expect – not everything a person deals with is the forefront of every conversation or thought. But I think what I enjoyed most is seeing real character development across a decade when some folks might argue people have sort of solidified into who they are going to be. Sybil is in her post-retirement life, and at times herself wonders what she’s doing. But she is able to grow and change. She doesn’t become someone entirely different, but she allows herself the chance to learn and grow in her relationships.

This book took a bit of time for me to get into, and while on the one hand one could just pause at any time since each letter is usually two pages, and at most four. But one thing I disliked was the lack of chapters. I felt I needed to really set aside time to read it, which perhaps the author intended, but that meant for the first week or so I just avoided reading it if I only had 20 minutes or so.

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
Sure

Rating:
2 Stars

In a nutshell:
Anger, vulnerability, and desperately needing an honest editor.

Best for:
I can see that many people have sung the praises of this book. If you’re interested in reading it, maybe see if the people who liked it seem to have similar taste to you? And no matter what, don’t pick the audio book.

Quote that made me think:
N/A

Why I chose it:
Memoir read by the author. That’s like, at least 25% of what I read. Kinda wish I hadn’t.

Review:
Book CN: Child sexual assault, domestic violence

Some memoirs written by famous people are brilliant. The can get to the heart of really tricky matters, discuss important issues, and help the reader feel as though they have gotten to know the author. At the same time, I think that we all know that every memoir author has to make decisions about what to include and what to leave out. Sometimes that means one gets a fun little collection of essays that shows some vulnerability but that the author has been clear isn’t the full story, which is absolutely fine (like Anna Kendrick’s Scrappy Little Nobody). Sometimes that means one reads what feels quite self indulgent and lacking self-awareness (like Rebel Wilson’s Rebel Rising).

Here we get something else – the ‘maybe this story should have stayed between you and your therapist’ memoir. And that is NOT to say that memoirs cannot or should not dive into really tricky, challenging, even uncomfortable topic areas. I think a great example of this is Jennette McCurdy’s I’m Glad My Mom Died. Great writing, tough topics, but I got the sense that the author had processed her emotions, and her story, and gotten to a point where she could tell it.

I don’t think Applegate is there yet. I think she has faced – and come through – way more than any one person should have to handle. And she’s very forthcoming about how all of it has affected her. She leans HEAVILY into the opposite of bright-siding things – she is more likely to focus on the negatives than the positives in any situation. And that is her absolute right – she gets to decide how she handles the trials she faces. But there’s an overall chaos to this memoir that does not work in its current form. I think the editor and publisher have let Applegate down, because she has put so much of herself out there, in a book that ultimately is not, to me, well done. And as always, it feels gross to write that about someone’s life story, but the book is telling her story, and I think her story deserved better.

She also suffers from the same thing I’ve seen in other memoirs – the inclusion of problematic people without acknowledging it. This is such a small thing, but in a book where there isn’t actually just a flood of name dropping, two names she does choose to drop somewhat affectionately are Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt. Two men who have been accused of domestic abuse. Wild.

As I said in the title, what I think may have deeply impacted my feelings on this book was the bizarre delivery of the audio book. When talking about things she will go from chuckling to actually crying, to making weird sarcastic voices in places where it doesn’t quite make sense. It felt as though someone was reading it as sort of a joke melodrama audition? Where they’d not read the material beforehand but got to parts where they wanted to make an acting choice and just went all over the place? It was disconcerting to the point that I again want to know where were the people who should have caught this. Where was the audio book producer, the voice coach? Was she receiving proper support when having to put her voice to the words she’d written about her own trauma? It was just … off. So I do wonder if reading a hard copy of the book would have led me to a different conclusion. Alas, I’m not about to read this again, so this review will stand as is.

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
No.

Rating:
3.5 Stars

In a nutshell:
Una has left Reykjavik to take a job in a remote small town in Iceland, spending the winter teaching two young girls. While there, things transpire.

Best for:
Fans of the genre of cozy, Icelandic mysteries.

Quote that made me think:
N/A

Why I chose it:
I love Ragnar Jónasson’s books.

Review:
Una is a bit of a frustrating character, but also somewhat relateable. She’s lost and looking to change things up, and while a move in general seems like a reasonable choice, picking a place with fewer than a dozen residents and thirty minutes from the nearest proper grocery store is a bit extreme. She vastly underestimates the insulatr nature of a town with just ten residents, most of whom grew up there. She’ll never really belong, but the question she wrestles with is can she fit in?

She stays with the mother of one of her pupils, in a house that might be haunted. But then one of the pupils dies, and there is possibly a missing man who has disappeared in town. Is any of it connected? Do the townspeople know what’s really going on? And if they do — will they share it with Una?

The townspeople are often infuriating, and there were a couple of scenes with them that pissed me off to no end – like I could feel my blood pressure and anxiety cresting. I get why the scenes were necessary for the book, but ugh, I didn’t like that at all.

The book resolved fairly nearly, though not entirely in a way I would have liked. Even so, this was an interesting read. As is somewhat standard in Jonasson’s books, there is the main story, and a side story, and it isn’t clear until the end how the two stories interact. But they always do. Predictable? Yeah. But for me, it’s entertaining nonetheless.

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
Yes

Rating:
4 Stars

In a nutshell:
Noah, Loralei, Charlie, Alice and Izzy are a family of five heading to Charlie’s last lacrosse tournament before he heads to university on a scholarship. He is behind the wheel of the family’s self-driving minivan, with his dad Noah next to him. There is a car accident, and the individuals in the other car die.

Best for:
Those wrestling with the creeping of AI into every aspect of our lives, and what that means for personal and communal responsibility.

Quote that made me think:
“We do the world no good when we throw up our hands and surrender to the moral frameworks of algorithms.”

“When humans do something wrong, they generally face consequences…Algorithms face no such consequences for their misbehavior, either societal or emotional. Punishment, guilt, culpability are alien to them. There are no moral qualms in an algorithm.”

Why I chose it:
I was a bit hesitant when I saw the ‘Oprah’s Book Club’ sticker (she did help platform grifters Dr Phil and Dr Oz), but my sister-in-law mentioned it was on her list, and I generally trust her taste in books. Plus the premise was intriguing.

Review:
I tore through this book because I found the plot interesting, and the writing clever. But I also enjoyed the philosophical questions underpinning the actions taking place on the page.

The book is told almost entirely from the point of view of the father Noah, who is a generally smart guy (he’s an attorney), but I think he’s meant to stand in for all of us who kinda get the issues with AI but don’t quite know all the details or understand exactly what questions need to be asked all the time. His wife Lorelei is an actual expert in AI, a bit of a rock star in her field of ethics of algorithms, and someone who is clearly grappling with the morality of it all.

While the actions of the book are set in motion with the car accident, nearly the entire book takes place over the course a few days about a month after the accident, when the family returns to seaside rental to spend a week just enjoying each other and recuperating. But the house is next door to a compound that we learn is owned but a tech billionaire. A tech billionaire with a daughter Charlie’s age, and they end up getting along QUITE well.

Charlie is being investigated for the collision that sets the book in motion, and it becomes increasingly clearer that there is more going on. Was the car driving itself? Was it the AI that fucked up, or did Charlie do something wrong? To that end, there is a side plot where we get another perspective – that of Charlie’s sister Alice, via her conversations with her AI ‘friend.’

The book has the plot action, but as I said, it also is dealing with real questions. From as basic (ish) as ‘how do we sort out the safest way of using self-driving technology’ to ‘what role should AI have in military action’, the book explores so many of the challenges that I don’t think society is taking seriously enough. There’s zero mention of the ecological impact of AI use, which is fine, as that’s not the focus of the book, but it’s a reminder to me that there is so much that AI can already fuck up, and society has entrusted some of the least trustworthy people (e.g. billionaires) with implementing this technology. And what happens when it causes harm? Who suffers? Do CEOs go to prison? Do companies get fined out of existence, their founders banned from starting new companies in their place? Who is, in a word, culpable?

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
Yes

Rating:
4 Stars

In a nutshell:
Gilda is anxious. Or maybe depressed? Or perhaps having a heart attack? She’s definitely unemployed and needs a job. So why not a Catholic church receptionist? Perfect for a gay atheist.

Best for:
Those who liked books like “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine”

Quote that made me think:
“I am smiling despite it. I am presenting as happy because people prefer that.”

“I find it so bizarre that I occupy space, and that I am seen by other people.”

“It’s strange people don’t like how their bodies look. It’s strange we waste any of our time concerning ourselves with how our skin drapes over our bones or how fat cultivates.”

Why I chose it:
I was perusing my favorite bookstore in Seattle and saw this one, and it did not disappoint. The cover caught my eye and the blurb kept me interested.

Review:
What a delightful surprise! This book could have felt weirdly dark, or cheesy in the vaguely philosophical questions Gilda asks throughout, but in the hands of author Austin it instead feels grounded. I believe that Gilda is going through it, HAS been going through it, and isn’t sure what she wants to be doing. She cares about her life but also finds it hard to do the basics like get up for work on time, or clean dishes in a reasonable amount of time.

It’s the former that leads us to the main plot of the book: when she is late too many times, Gilda is fired from her job at a book store. She also gets in a minor car accident, and has a challenging relationship with her parents. She sees a flyer for therapy and goes to the address, which turns out to be a Catholic church. When she arrives, the priest assumes she is there for the receptionist job, and she just goes along with it, not revealing that she is an atheist and also a lesbian.

Through her work at the church, as well as her time dating Eleanor (and possibly dating a guy she definitely is not interested in), she starts to spiral, but also make some connections she’s not made before. In the background is the question over the death of the person whose job Gilda has taken but this isn’t a murder mystery. I don’t quite know how to define this book, but I appreciate it and I enjoyed reading it. Gilda is complicated but relatable, and by the end I just want the best for her

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
Yes

Rating:
5 Stars

SLIGHT SPOILERS BELOW – If you don’t want to read on, just know that it’s a really freaking good book.

In a nutshell:
Joan is an astronaut in the US in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The book tells the story of hos she becomes an astronaut, what that means for her, and the relationships she builds, set against the backdrop of an emergency on board the space shuttle in late 1984.

Best for:
Those who enjoy books that feature romance but don’t focus on sex; those who appreciate books with LGBTQ+ themes.

Quote that made me think:
I read the audio version so didn’t end up taking notes, but the writing in this is beautiful without being overdone.

Why I chose it:
My sister-in-law suggested it, and we tend to like much of the same when it comes to books.

Review:
This book hooks the reader from the start. We begin with a space shuttle trip – our main protagonist Joan is on capcom, communicating with the crew. A couple of crew members are manually releasing a satellite when the worst happens: an explosion. Much of the crew is incapacitated, leaving Joan (and the rest of the NASA crew back home) and navigator Vanessa to come up with a solution to bring everyone home.

That alone would be an interesting premise of a book, but that’s really just the backdrop. The main focus is Joan’s journey not just to becoming an astronaut, but to discovering who she is outside of work. It’s a gorgeous discussion not just of space but of relationships – friendships, romantic relationships, parent/child relationships. And of the impact it has when people are required to hide who they are.

There are loads of exciting and dramatic moments, as well as simpler ones. But the final chapter is intense. I was in tears while reading it, and it’s going to stick with me for a long while.

I love the complexity that Reid brings to her characters – Joan of course, and astronauts Vanessa and Lydia, plus Joan’s sister and niece. I’m familiar with Reid’s work, but this is the first of her books I’ve actually read, so I imagine I’ll be reading others if they are anything like this.

I listened to the audio book while going through runs around Trillium lake in Oregon while on a family holiday. Being out in nature while reading about the stars was a pretty fantastic experience – strongly recommend it.

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
Yes

Rating:
2.5 Stars

In a nutshell:
Critic Dederer ostensibly seeks to explore how we can (and if we should still) consume art by those who have done horrible things. In reality, the book meanders, doesn’t fit the brief, and ultimately uses a bit of a cop-out to basically say ‘its fine, do what you want.’

Best for:
I think there might be some folks who would enjoy reading this book. It is well-written (from a prose perspective). But I’m not sure who those folks are.

Quote that made me think:
“And is it simply a matter of pragmatism? Do we withhold our support if the person is alive and therefore might benefit financially from our consumption of their work?”

“What exactly are these guys defending? Is it the film? Or something else?”

Why I chose it:
The central question is one I find interesting.

Review:
I did not enjoy this book. Not to a level like “The Let Them Theory” – Dederer is a talented writer, and clearly has thought through the essays in this book. But still – the book seems less interested in exploring what to do with ‘great art’ and more with rationalizing why we should all get to keep consuming it regardless of the creator. It feels less like a philosophical discussion, or a reality-based one, and more like a high-brow attempt to justify why it’s totes okay to keep streaming Annie Hall.

I should be clear that some of the geniuses she references do nothing for me. I have only seen a couple of Woody Allen films, and I didn’t enjoy them. Now that I know about what his daughter claims he did to her (and the fact that he married his partner’s daughter) – why on earth is it crucial that I continue to consume his art? It might be great – and some folks might love it, but there are other films that can make just as interesting a statement as anything he does. So it’s pretty easy for me to just … not consume that art.

I think that’s my overall problem with the premise of the book as Dederer lays it out – I don’t actually think any art is singularly great. I mean sure, there are books and films and songs that I absolutely adore, but the idea that my gratification (or the collective ‘we’s’ gratification) is tied up in just Allen, or Picasso, or Hemingway, is a concept I cannot get behind. I’m sure someone else who isn’t such as asshole has written books as good as or better than Hemingway (addressing the same themes) – so why not just consume that?

So in that sense, it’s pretty easy for me to give up some things. Like, since I learned that JK Rowling uses the money she makes from anything related to Harry Potter – streaming, TV shows, books, amusement parks, etc. – to make life worse for all women in the UK, I’m done. I won’t consume any of her ‘art’, because I know that by doing so I am directly harming trans and cis women. And I am not okay with that. I think that’s also why the above quote is one that stood out to me. I think I take a pragmatic view – if the person who did the horrible thing that I know about is still alive and making money off my consumption of the art, then I try not to consume it.

The book also meanders a bit – there aren’t loads of women mentioned, and she takes an entire chapter to talk about how the women we view as monsters are mostly women who abandon their families. Interesting exploration! But that feels like it belongs in an entirely different book. And then when she doesn’t reference a woman who is a monster – like JK Rowling – she seems to spend little time on how their actions really do impact others. And that isn’t limited to how she discusses women – she kinds of glosses over many of the horrible things these artists have done.

The book ends with a cop-out that I see in many areas of activism where people don’t really want to do things – saying that it shouldn’t be up to the individual. She even uses recycling as an example, which I think is an absolutely WILD analogy. I agree that the issues is systemic and definitely a function of the society we live in, but I don’t think that’s a free pass to just decide to not live values. No one can be perfect, but I don’t think that answer to that is to just ignore what we know about the people who make the art we consume because we think it is important and we really, really like it.

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
No

Rating:
4 Stars

In a nutshell:
Boundary coach Orange shares her thoughts on setting boundaries and offers different possible responses to all sorts of things folks might say that cross the line.

Best for:
Anyone who isn’t sure what to say in the moment.

Quote that made me think:
“When you don’t tell people what’s okay and what’s not okay, you’re setting them up to fail.”

“Hmm. I am not the right person for you to share that with.”

Why I chose it:
I was about to go visit a relative who has a tendency to say and do things that I disagree with or find generally unpleasant. Also Orange showed up in my TikTok algorithm awhile back and I find her to be a delight.

Review:
When my partner and I were having a wander around the city we now call home, we were crossing a pedestrian bridge and taking in some gorgeous views. We were stopped by a white guy (that’s relevant, I promise) who asked if were from there. We (also both white) said no, but that we were loving it and thinking of moving there. He said something to the effect of ‘It’s great, except for all of the (insert folks from a nation that is part of the Global Majority) who have moved here. They’re so dirty. Have a good day!’ And then he just moved along.

I’m disappointed to share that we didn’t say anything in the time. I think we were just so gob-smacked that someone felt that a) they should share that opinion, and b) they should share that opinion with us. After reading this book, I feel like I have a few options if I’m ever confronted with such an experience.

Now, I said I chose this book because I was visiting a relative, and the above is clearly about an interaction with a stranger. But that’s what I loved about the book – Orange recognizes one response doesn’t fit everything, so she offers up three different basic scripts that one can adjust for the specific scenario. The first would work for above – called “Public Now.” That’s for when you’re in public, you’re faced with a stranger doing something that is impacting you, and you choose to speak up.

The other two are for people you know – there’s “Private Now,” where you bring up the issue in the moment, and there’s “Private Later,” where you’ve perhaps been stewing on something a bit and aren’t sure if it’s really something you need to set a boundary about. Each has three or four little segments, and you fill in the blanks.

This discussion takes up about twenty percent of the book – the rest are examples of boundary phrases that can work to address all manner of specific issues where one might want to set a boundary. Things like someone talking about someone who has ADHD, or making a racist comment, or a transphobic statement. She covers over two dozen broad topic areas, with some more specific sub-topics.

Would I recommend it to its target audience:
Definitely. It will take some practice but I think her approach is helpful.