books_ergo_sum's Reviews (933)

This two stars feels harsh but—I blame Kierkegaard.

I’ve been dipping my toe into uncomfy general fiction and enjoying it. This book centered queer relationships and the Palestinian diaspora and I was ready. One thing about it was perfect: how mind bogglingly unlikeable this FMC was. Like, trigger warning for cheating, holy crap. I loved it.

But it did two things I hated. And they both involve the book’s opening Kierkegaard quote:
“Pleasure disappoints, possibility never.”

For one, this was my first clue that the story wasn’t going to tackle its messy subject matter in the style I personally prefer. Because the messier the topic, the more I want to draw my own conclusions about it and the less I enjoy a book telling me how to feel. So a book about a woman who is constantly seduced by the ‘possibility’ of other relationships opening with a Kierkegaard quote? I was rolling my eyes on page one. And the thematic hand-holding, plus reductive characters, only got more pronounced from there, imo.

And two (sorry for any philosophical pedantry), this book positioned itself as an implicit critique of Kierkegaard (our heroine’s journey overturning the original Kierkegaard possibility > pleasure quote). But it wasn’t. We started and ended this book within a Kierkegaardian ontology, never moving beyond self-focused moralistic handwringing, going nowhere. And like, Kierkegaard is fine (in a chapeau-ed dog, room on fire kind of way 😆). But the quote on page one was too much of a neon sign pointing to where we were supposed go for… us not to end up there.

But I’m being annoying. The link between pleasure and possibility (becoming necessity) in a Hegelian critique of the German Romantics and proto-existentialists like Kierkegaard is one of my favourite topics. So this bugaboo was very much a me-thing.

I loved the topic of this book! All the different ways we’re completely irrational as people—from confirmation bias, to sunk cost fallacy, illusory truth effect, all the things. It was really fascinating.

And I kinda loved the memoire-ish tone of this one? Probably because I read all three of her books one after the other and now I’m (irrationally) invested in her as a person. But I think I’m in the minority on that one (because most reviews didn’t love this part of the book).

But it still had that not-my-fav argument style of the other books (hence the four stars): neither the tightest argument nor a ‘here are all the facts, draw your own conclusion’ writing style. But that’s fine.

I enjoyed the author-narrated audiobook.

“If you want to insult a woman, call her a prostitute. If you want to insult a man, call him a woman.”

This was a fun nonfiction book. Which feels weird to say about a book that was essentially about misogyny. But since it was about linguistics, specifically how misogyny creeps into our language (for even the most committed feminists), the facts in here were both extremely damning and oddly hopeful. Language changes, after all.

I particularly enjoyed its defense of language styles considered feminine (like hedging or saying ‘like’) and have been unapologetically writing “feminine” reviews ever since.

But what dropped it down to a four, for me, was its neither here nor there argumentation style (what I like to call The Hannah Arendt Format). Don’t get me wrong, some people consider Hannah Arendt to be peak philosophy writing. But for me, it’s neither ‘here are all the facts, draw your own conclusions’ nor tightly valid, thesis-heavy writing (and I like my arguments to be toight like a tiger, soundness-wise).

Still, really enjoyable. Especially the audiobook.

This was way more interesting than I expected (I’m not the kind of person who innately cares about cults). I’ve been really feeling Amanda Montell’s linguistic approach to different aspects of our society.

This was less about the inner workings of specific cults, and more about how cultish language is literally everywhere. From social media influencers, to fitness culture, to pyramid schemes, and the typical bad guys we think of when we think of a cult.

It was really illuminating and it completely sidestepped the usual stereotyping of people who join cults—because it turns out we’re all a part of at least one cult, linguistically speaking.

It had that same ‘neither here nor there’ writing style as Wordslut, which isn’t my fav (and why they’ve both been knocked down to a four star). I like my nonfiction to have either a tighter argument style or be more ‘here is some facts, draw your own conclusions.’ But that’s just personal preference.

This was the first Courtney Milan book that didn’t annihilate me with how amazing it was (maybe my expectations have gotten too high?). The other books in this series became new all-time favs and this last novella was just okay.

It did some things I really enjoyed:
✨ we had an astronomy and math genius black heroine in a historical romance (in a historical way, not a Bridgerton show way—which is also good)
✨ we had a charming Irish hero who was also a feminist
✨ we touched on racial discrimination in reproductive health

The characters were super likable and the plot was short and sweet. I just wanted more development with the themes. I wanted more of a reformation arc for our reformed rake and more on-page falling in love, especially.

Ahh! I loved this one so much!

⭐️ such a cool 19th century suffragette heroine
⭐️ morally grey secret identity hero
⭐️ a feminist newspaper
⭐️ so much insightful commentary on activism

Plus, how did this book make me love such a Lego Batman MMC? Magic.

It was perfect.

I loved it, are we surprised? (Actually, I kind of was—but I’ll get to that in a second)

✨ Friends to lovers + a lifetime of pining
✨ Widowed heroine
✨ Secret identity
✨ Late 19th century evolutionary biology with a specialization in plants

(Fun fact: Mr. Books_Ergo_Sum is an evolutionary biologist with a specialization in plants and I know way more about Linnaean taxonomy, enantiostyly, and sporogenesis than any layperson has any right to 😆)

But when I started this, my mind went straight to ‘oh no another friends to lovers with grandfathered-in intimacy from another timeline, how good could this possibly be?’

Extremely good, it turned out. Because instead of a meet-cute and on-page falling, this book was all about the on-page tenderness of an already established relationship. And we went in HARD. They hid the extent of their closeness by speaking in code, they cared about each other so freaking much, and I’ve never read a romance where the two MCs were this aware of each other in every scene, even from across the room.

Add in some great character arcs and family dynamics drama and look at me—I’m giving a friends to lovers book five stars!

This book was great. Just maybe a touch too angsty for me? (because I’ve maybe turned into a weakling?)

This heroine was the best. She was an heiress who didn’t want to be proposed to, so she acted as obnoxious as she could in public without crossing into impolite territory. And it was hilarious. Excellent character arcs, again. I particularly loved how their inconvenient feelings for each other forced them to grow in such a spot-on storytelling way.

It did get a bit too angsty for me for a second there. There was a sexy time moment that the characters experienced as bittersweet, but my little demisexual heart couldn’t handle. I loved how it was resolved though, so… ‘worth it’ angst?

And there was a secondary romance plot that I wanted to be its own book! I feel robbed.

This was a great, super sex-positive holiday novella.

These character arcs! What the heck, how were they so good? There was even a moment in here where I shed a little tear for the MMC’s character arc (which never happens). And the moment wasn’t gratuitously sad or anything? It was all just incredibly moving. And in a little novella, no less. Am I rambling? Courtney Milan makes me ramble.

Truly delicious historical details about 1860s medicine and reproductive health. And was he neuro-spicy? It was very ‘I’ve been watching you from a distance for a year’—which always slaps. And she had such a compelling secret backstory that he knew about but no one else did. The whole premise of this book was fantastic.

I just wanted it to be longer. This story was centered around a temporary forced proximity bargain—which was fun—but it grandfathered in a lot of tension from previous interactions that I would have rather seen on-page. But that’s just me.

I loved this book so much!!

I can’t decide what I loved more: these characters or their 1860s era socialism.

Is this just Courtney Milan’s thing? She writes compelling character arcs? Because both these characters—our strategic, kinda ruthless, chess master with a secret identity heroine and our sweet idealist, smart (but so dumb) hero—had my heart.

This book gave me a super specific feeling, and I want to know if you’ve ever experienced it too? It’s this “I can’t wait to read the Author’s Note” feeling.

Because it was clear while reading that so much thought had been put into this 1860s era British socialism (and Darwinism, medical innovations, chess, etc) and I couldn’t wait for the Author’s Note to give me a peak into the process.

From the workers’ rights handbills to the chess strategy, this book tickled my brain. And from the on-page falling for each other to the “if anything happens, I’ll marry you myself,” this book squeezed my heart to bits.

It was perfect.