Five Stars

I’m pretty sure the first time I encountered Tig Notaro’s work was in that This American Life Story, but it might also have been when she had a role in the sweet film “In A World.” I watched her documentary, and then her comedy special, and really enjoyed both. I find her to be intriguing and unpretentious, and so had to pick up her memoir.

If you have somehow managed to not heard her story, Ms. Notaro experienced a pretty brutal spring four years ago: she went through a breakup, fought a brutal C. Diff infection, lost her mother unexpectedly in a fall, and then was diagnosed with bilateral breast cancer.

Yeah.

This book is mostly focused on that time in Ms. Notaro’s life, and her recovery from it. She shares a lot of herself in a way that is genuine, sweet, and at times (but not always) funny. This isn’t a comedy memoir, but it is a memoir that will make you feel good. It made me feel good.

Not every good book is full of loud, declarative, life-altering statements that you want to immediately stitch on a pillow. Some are quietly strong, but awesome just the same. I loved this book. I can’t recommend it enough.

Three Stars

In 2013, 19 members of the Granite Mountain Hotshots died fighting a fire outside of Yarnell, Arizona. One, working as a lookout, survived. Many children – some not yet born – were left without fathers, parents lost their sons, and in the end, a town lost its brothers.

I picked up this book thinking I’d learn a little bit more about what happened on that day, but in reality that day (despite the blurbs on the back) doesn’t seem to take up much of the book at all. Only about 30 of the 225 pages are about that day; the rest of the book focuses on providing an explanation of how wildfire fighting works, and introducing us to the men who comprised the Granite Mountain Hotshots. After the description of the fire, the author then turns to talking about how some of the families have been able to move forward with their lives.

The storytelling is great – Ms. Santos is clearly a very talented writer. But I felt that the book could have been longer and more in-depth. I appreciate that she wasn’t focused on assigning blame, but there was really no analysis of the reasons why the situation came about. She doesn’t hold back in her descriptions of some decisions, but unlike, say, Five Days at Memorial, in this book I just didn’t get the sense of strong journalistic analysis. That’s a real bummer, since Ms. Santos is a journalist, and I really feel like we all would benefit from some analysis in this book.

She does, however, at least touch on the super fucked-upedness of the majority of these men not being full-time, benefited employees (your jaw may drop at the base wages they earn), and the fact that in government, despite what some folks may say, the focus is always on trying to save more money, cut more costs, and that can come at a price – both to the individuals working for the government and the communities they are hired to protect.

This book is more like a biography of 19 people and their families, which is lovely, but not what I thought I was getting from this book. The stories Ms. Santos tells of the families are sweet and interesting, but with 19 men and their families to discuss, each one feels like it is clipped, so we don’t really get to know any of them very well.

If you find wildfire fighting interesting, and if you generally enjoy books on topics such as emergencies and disasters, I think you’ll find this a worthwhile read.

Three Stars

I read and reviewed Ms. McCreight’s previous novel in December – I read it in a day and found it to be really interesting. Similarly to the last time I found her work, I was in an airport bookstore, picked it up, and essentially didn’t put it down until I was finished.

The book is told from the perspectives of three women: Molly, a non-profit advocate turned journalist who has one daughter and experienced a stillbirth a couple of years back; Barbara, a ‘perfect mother’ who doesn’t think very highly of Molly and is married to the town’s Police Chief; and Sandy, a 16-year-old whose mother is missing. The premise? A baby has been found dead in the woods on the town University campus, and Molly is sent to cover the story.

There are twists. Some you might see coming, some you might not. The writing is interesting, and the characters are mostly fleshed out.

However, I do see this author as seeming to only be able to write about women as mothers. There’s one grown woman in this book who doesn’t have children, and it comes out it’s because of a hysterectomy. I get that most women have kids, but man, it really stands out when that is the single defining characteristic of all of the adult characters in the book.

Two Stars

#LiveBoldly

That hashtag was featured heavily in my Twitter time line over the weekend, as the film version of “Me Before You” hit theaters. I had purchased the book at Target while trying to pass the time after a work training, but didn’t realize there was such discussion around it. Even though I knew the film was getting some very severe criticism, I wasn’t familiar enough with the plot to know if that was because the film hewed close to the book, or strayed from it. Below is more of a discussion of the issues raised in the book than the book itself, and is full of all the spoilers. Content note for ableism.

.
.
.
.
.

Okay. So, here’s the entire premise: Will, a rich white guy who loves adventure, is hit by a vehicle and left with a C5-6 spinal injury, which means he cannot move most anything below his very upper chest. He has some movement in his hands, but has full feeling (as I understand it). He can’t properly regulate his body temperature. He uses a mechanical wheelchair to move about, and has an assistat who addresses his sanitary needs. He also has returned home to his parents’ mansion.

Louisa (Lou) is a young white woman from the other side of the tracks (in this case, a historic castle standing as a substitute) who was laid off when the cafe she worked in closes. Her family relies on her income; she ends up working as a companion for Will, although not focused on medical issues. As she finds out a few weeks after she starts her six-month contract, she’s been hired to try to convince Will not to follow through with his appointment at an assisted suicide facility in Switzerland.

The #LiveBoldly tag was started by the film marketing team based on the idea that Will helps Lou decide she wants more out of her life, even as he does, in the end, die by suicide. Many members of the disability community took on the tag and repurposed it to very rightfully point out that non able-bodied people a) are not able-bodied inspiration porn, and b) live boldly as well, thank you very much. They viewed the film (and the book) as essentially suggesting that all non able-bodied people have lives that are not worth living, and should go and kill themselves.

That sucks. That sucks that when we finally get someone who uses a wheelchair as a character in the film, it is both not the main character of the film (the book is written primarily from Lou’s perspective, and never from Will’s) and features an able-bodied actor instead of someone with similar injuries. I didn’t, however, take away the message from the book that life in a wheelchair is not worth living – I took it as one story. However, especially after reading more articles on the issue, I can see the frustration. It’s so rare that a person who uses a wheelchair permanently is the focus of anything in pop culture, let alone a best-selling book a major movie – why must it be from the perspective of the person NOT in the wheelchair? And why must the focus be on how unhappy the person in the wheelchair is?

I fully support assisted suicide for anyone with a terminal diagnosis who has made the decision that they are not interested in continuing to live with severe pain, and want to exercise more control over their lives. But I also respect the concerns raised some, which include:
– Health care: if assisted suicide is an option, will insurance companies stop covering palliative care of life-prolonging treatment, and instead just cover the medications that facilitate the death?
– Benefits: If someone is receiving financial assistance other than health care, once there is a terminal diagnosis of some point (say, six months), will the benefits stop if the ill person doesn’t choose assisted suicide before then?
– Family: If assisted suicide is an option, will terminally ill people choose assisted suicide much sooner than perhaps their symptoms would suggest in an effort to avoid being a burden on others? Or will family members ‘help’ the decision along in order to more quickly access things like inheritance?

It’s a failure as a nation and humanity that people have to even face these hypothetical situations. And we should be protecting everyone from abuse. But I don’t see that as a reason to deny the choice of death to someone who is ill.

Non-terminal illness or disability is another situation though, right? Even with a severe spinal cord injury, someone might live for decades. So why should we provide access to such an option, especially if it might be abused? Should we?

With all of these question in mind, I have to give this book a very low review.

Note: For a MUCH better analysis of this, check out this great article from The Establishment.

Four Stars

I know I’m a bit late to this book. Honestly, I wasn’t motivated to read it until I saw the preview for the film adaptation, which involves Emily Blunt (yes!) and the woman who played Cora in “Music and Lyrics By,” that Hugh Grant / Drew Barrymore film that no one saw but that I will watch whenever it is on. I knew that involved a possibly unreliable narrator, but that was about it.

Maybe minor spoilers below …

Still here? Okay. I’m glad that I picked it up. Started it this morning, finished it this evening. I haven’t let it set, so it’s possible my opinion might change, but I liked it. I knew there was some sort of twist, and I did actually pick up on what it might be fairly early on in the Megan chapters. But there was enough misdirection that made sense that I wasn’t 100% certain until a few chapters before it was explicitly spelled out.

I also liked that the only perspective chapters we get are from three women, two of whom are viewing the same actions through very different lenses. I thought the writing was mostly good – certainly good enough to keep me interested to the point that I read it at the gym, walking to and from work today, and then tonight after dinner. If you’re looking for a quick-reading thriller, I think this is a good choice.

Five Stars

Love. I love this book. I read it in under 24 hours

Lindy West is a fantastic writer based in Seattle. Locals first got to know her writing in The Stranger, our funky weekly paper. Most other folks know her as a writer for The Guardian. She uses her wit and intellect to discuss issues like being a fat woman existing in the world (that’s her wedding picture at the top of this post), the prevalence and support of rape culture in stand-up comedy, and the need for access to reproductive health care, including abortion.

Ms. West has a way with words that I admire. She can take a serious issue and find a way to make it funny without diminishing it at all. For example, in the very first chapter of this book she lists all of the fat female role models she had growing up. They’re basically limited to characters from Disney films, and I think only one is human. It’s a funny chapter that drives home the fucked-up ness of the issue. Sample quote: “A League of Their Own is a classic family comedy that mines the age-old question: What if women … could do things?”

Every chapter is an essay that could stand on its own, although they connect really well to each other. I found myself marking them up with notes even more than usual. I did skim one of the sections of the book. I read it, but REALLY quickly. The chapter involves a discussion about rape jokes, and includes a recounting of Ms. West going on W. Kamau Bell’s show to “debate” the issue with another (male) comedian. She is right, he is not, and it’s just so frustrating to read the willful ignorance that some people employ to not have to make any adjustments to their worldviews. I just couldn’t devote the time to it that I should have. But I will, some day.

I wish I’d had this book when I was younger, and plan to gift it to my nieces when they are older. I also know that I will be re-reading this book regularly in the years to come.

Two Stars

I’m supposed to like this book. I like things that are a bit bizarre. I like England (where it is set). And everyone seems to rave about both this author and this book. So I’ve clearly once again missed something.

And yet…

I should have known. The blurb on the front, from The Boston Globe, is “Profoundly chilling…a slow-building neo-Gothic that will leave persevering readers breathless.”

Did you catch that? “persevering readers.” Apparently I was in for a bit of a slog. A book that was going to make me work for the reward. Which makes me wonder – do I like having to work to enjoy what I’m reading?

I don’t think I do. I’m not looking for Dr. Seuss, or short sentences. I think a book can be complex and challenging without dragging and feeling like work. This book was the latter, not the former. And even though I did make it to the end … I super did not care. I wasn’t shocked by the ending, I assumed it would end the way it did the entire time.

What am I missing?

I realized this morning that I could not picture anything the author discusses in this book. The home that features as a character in the book – I have not a clue what it looks like, and nothing about the author’s words helped me build that image in my mind. I don’t know what Miri (one of the main characters) looks like, nor do I have any picture in my eye of any of the other characters. The only setting I could sort of picture was part of the chunk set at Cambridge, because I’ve been there.

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this before. Is this the author’s goal – to make the reader just feel like she is reading words, not creating any sort of picture or story? If so, then huzzah! Success! But that’s not what I’m looking for in fiction, at all. I can’t recommend the book, although I am somewhat looking forward to book club (the reason I read this) tonight, to see what the hell I’m missing here.

Four Stars

So this was awesome. I’d seen the movie (or at least parts of it) many years ago. There’s one scene that I recall being especially brutal; in the book it’s worse. I was walking while reading it (it’s a thing I do), and when I got to one part in the book I actually stopped and physically had to stifle a gag. I can’t recall the last time that happened. And I’ve seen all the Saw films.

The premise of the book is that Paul is a writer who has been in a very serious car accident. He happens to be rescued by Annie Wilkes, who is his “number one fan.” She also happens to be super mentally unhinged. Stephen King does an interesting job in trying to make Annie more than just a horrifying evil person. I mean, she is. She’s awful. She’s brutal. But she’s also clearly very ill. I don’t ever feel sorry for her, but from my perspective she isn’t just a cartoon character.

One challenge of reading a book after I’ve seen a movie is that I cannot unsee the actors chosen to play the parts. So for better or worse, Paul was James Caan and Annie was Kathy Bates. And that was pretty great casting.

There were times when I felt that the book should have been close to the end, but it kept going. It worked, but I do think it also could have ended sooner. I’m obviously not in a position to question the writing choices of Mr. King, but these 340 pages maybe could have been like 275. But whatever, it was still a great read and a book I had a hard time putting down to do things like sleep and eat.