alisarae's Reviews (1.65k)

This is not the type of book that I would usually read (dream sequences, drug haze), but it fit so perfectly into my insomnia-fueled fugue that I finished it in less than 24 hours. I liked how apathetic the MC was, and I liked indulging in her narcissistic cruelty.

The book came out in 2018, but I think it hits different after so many of us were/are locked in our apartments for days on end during the pandemic. Even today as I am working from home and rarely have an incentive to go outside during the daylight hours, a dreamy half-awake bubble of unconcern with the greater world takes over my days.

I liked the very low stakes drama, it was almost slice of life. I also liked Yinka’s evolution from working on her outer appearance to working on her inner life, and how that changes her relationships and her view of herself. Also, seeing Yinka’s faith in such a positive way was fresh and unexpected. Btw, the audiobook narrator does so many different accents, I recommend going with audio if you can!

"Neither you nor I nor anyone can ever really know whether a story is happy or tragic."

Almond begins with this note to the reader, and I was anxious to know how it would fulfill this promise. Amazingly, it does. The writing is simple and straightforward, and even though many dramatic events happen, it is all delivered in Yunjae's flat monotone. Even so, I experienced many emotions while reading this story, even though Yunjae himself did not.

Yunjae, you see, has alexithymia from underdeveloped amygdala, and he does not feel emotions in the way most people do. He does not experience fear, for one. Many people call him a freak, but he is able to use his ability to enrich the lives of people around him in unique ways. Such a surprising and heartwarming story.

I had no idea where the story was leading to for 95% of the book, but it was truckin' along so I kept listening. Olga's relationship (or lack thereof) with her mother was handled in such an authentic way and added believability to the whole my-mom-is-che-guevara plot line—I particularly loved the final scene. I do wish I had read a story that really pushed the speculative Puerto Rican independence project and turned it into a full-on political thriller, but this was okay too.

I appreciated this memoir because I am sick and tired of *some* people believing (pretending?) that there is only one correct version of Christianity. The author has been there and back again, and his honesty is raw and necessary. I feel proud of my faith when I see the many different expressions of it. I'm glad that so many flavors exist, and I'm happy that Danté Stewart so gracefully expresses the beauty in Black American Christianity.

Some of the things that particularly stood out to me:
- the difference between white rage and black rage
- rage as a spiritual expression
- "We were not looking for hope. We were looking for love."
- the explanation of Black Jesus
- nostalgia as a tool of erasure

I think this would work well as an audiobook bc it's written in a flowing, repetitive style that reminds me of spoken word poetry or call & response.

Good concept and story, but the art was mediocre.

A fascinating mystery that I'm surprised I'd never heard of before. I think this book does a good job of presenting all the different angles, possible suspects, scenarios, and holes in the evidence. But I didn't like how the author frequently inserted herself into the story--it came across as amateurish and like she was overcompensating, even though she is a seasoned crime journalist.

I think Max's death was a bizarre accident that Max's mother and aunt and Adam (Jonah's brother) blamed Rebecca for, and I think all 3 of them were involved in Rebecca's murder and body staging. The sensationalist way her body was staged was shocking and humiliating, a final FU to a woman whom Max's mom had always hated. Given Max's mother's history of violent public outbursts, the manner in which Rebecca was killed does not seem so surprising to me. The message on the door ("she saved max can you save her") being addressed to Jonah and placing ultimate responsibility for Rebecca's death on him also makes sense as coming from Dinah. Though it was portrayed as a childish vandalism in the book (and maybe the trial?), I think the message is quite psychologically sophisticated when you consider it coming frim Dinah to Jonah: can you save her from public humiliation, is your money enough to save her reputation, you actually cannot save her, I lost someone I love and so you will lose someone you love, etc. What I am surprised about is why Adam hasn't publicly put the blame on her, unless they both truly were involved in the murder and cover-up, and he knows that she would retalliate with that information.

I am confused about the blood on the steak knife handle: it is alleged that the handle was stuck into Rebecca's vagina and she was menstuating, so that means that the person was holding it by the blade? That doesn't make any sense?

Not my favorite Sedaris collection, but his voice is always comforting. Vaccuum, about life in NYC during the early days of the pandemic was the funniest. To Serbia With Love spoke poignantly about what coming from a privileged country really means. In general, the humor was less of the self-depreciation that we know him for and more cynical pointing-at-others. Lots of stories about dealing with his dying father were important and honest, but left a bitter aftertaste. If I hadn't expected to laugh, perhaps I would have liked it better.

Victorian sensibilities, but I liked the story well enough anyways.

I was touched by the message about adoption, and nobleman Godfrey's assumptions about it were well played. "Was it not an appropriate thing for people in a high station to take a charge off the hands of a man in a lower? It seemed an eminently appropriate thing to Godfrey, for reasons that were known only to himself; and by a common fallacy, he imagined the measure would be easy because he had private motives for desiring it." I always forget how minds of other times can be sharply accurate for today's world.

“Always remember what Daddy King [MLK’s father] said: ‘Make it plain. Make it clear. Make it real.’”

At first I thought this book was written for youth because the language is so simple. There are short, straightforward sentences and the vocabulary is basic. But the truths are profound. Indeed: “There is no mistaking where I stand when I talk.” John Lewis was a giant because he was always honest, straightforward and he unwaveringly stuck to his convictions. He was committed to seeing every person as a fellow child of God, committed to he faith and hope that things and people would change for the better, committed to nonviolence in actions, posture, and speech.

I liked the reminder that spirituality was and is at the heart of movements for justice. It informs our convictions and helps us keep the faith that God is working on our side. It keeps us from despair and renews our strength to continue. It allows us to find freedom in forgiveness. Ministers and laypeople literally trained civil rights activists in the 60s and 70s. Church basements were used to run simulations and prepare people to respond with nonviolence in the face of violence. I’m proud of this legacy of my religion.