calarco's Reviews (760)

This narrative is a great adventure that circumvents many overused tropes of the fantasy genre. Delivered with the rich language that Le Guin is know for, this tale is truly worth reading because among the powerful magic and dragons, it ranks mindful understanding over might.

Magic is a means of manipulating and comprehending the balance within the world around Ged, the story's main protagonist. This underlying theme allows the usual fish-out-of-water tale to go in unexpected and under-explored directions. Rather than working towards victory, as most character arcs do, the very dynamic of some final win-lose battle scenario is rendered moot.

The overall story-line, as well as the tone of the text, brought to mind principles of Taoism or Zen Buddhism. By internally exploring his own inner complexities, Ged can better understand the forces at work around him.

I would recommend this novel for any child or adult.

Nell Irvin Painter is masterful in framing thought-provoking explorations of identity within comprehensive historical research. Her book "The History of White People" was an excellent examination of race as a social construct, as well as the inherent fluidity of ethnic identity in relation to ingroups and outgroups throughout Western history. With "Creating Black Americans," she is able to convey a complex history of a diverse and heterogeneous group, illustrating the variability and dynamic nature of the black experience in the United States.

Each chapter punctuates key historic events and how they impacted peoples lives and identifies. She conveys the horrifying history of enslavement and Jim Crow with accounts of resistance and highlights the agency of African American figures. Additionally, Painter's treatment of people from differing time periods with equal respect allowed for interesting insights into the impact of social movements ranging from the Civil Rights era to hip-hop culture.

While textbooks are not popular go-to reading material, this one is definitely worth reading. The format allowed for a lengthy examination from the time of the first Africans arrival to the New World up util the time of the volume's publication (2006). Furthermore, each chapter contained ample imagery that helped to convey the tone of each section of history, which included both historical images as well as artistic interpretations from other time periods. The choice of including artwork also helped to bridge stretches of time and see the ripple effects of historic events.

If you are interested in American history, identity, or just really good non-fiction, do not let the textbook format deter you from giving this volume a chance.

Sometimes when it rains, it pours. This almost seems like an understatement when reflecting on Tig's turbulent four months in 2012. Still, I would not label this memoir as a downer, but rather a thoughtful and introspective reflection from a clever (deadpanned) comedian.

Unless you are inflicting harm on yourself or others, I do not think there is an inherently wrong or right way to deal with grief. Everything has to be dealt with contextually, and that is something that Tig touches upon in a series of emotionally honest and personal accounts.

My favorite chapter was, "God Never Gives You More Than You Can Handle." Tig is definitely not someone who feels sorry for herself, but she does allow herself to realistically assess the trauma she has experienced. She does this while rejecting blindly saccharine positivity and other well-intended cliches. While this may not be everyone's approach, it was an outlook that echoed my own sentiments and experiences, so I super appreciated it.

This was a pretty solid read.

Within this novel's meandering plot lies some of Vonnegut's best socioeconomic commentary. Moreover, the endless parade of ridiculous characters ultimately come together to paint a scarily accurate picture of America.

One thing Vonnegut is brilliant at is pointing out the absurdity of established and unquestioned cultural 'norms' and constructs. With "Mr. Rosewater" he tackles the insanity of capitalism and a society that only values people in terms of how they are able to be productive. He denounces money as a dehumanizing agent, as it creates barriers between perceived realities of individuals from different economic classes.

This novel also marks Kilgore Trout's grand debut! To drive home Vonnegut's underlying thesis, Trout poignantly explains to the titular Mr. Rosewater, "Americans have long been taught to hate all people who will not or cannot work, to hate even themselves for that. We can thank the vanished frontier for that piece of common-sense cruelty. The time is coming, if it isn't here now, when it will no longer be common sense. It will simply be cruel." (184).

Now writing this review at a time when neoliberalism reigns supreme at the international stage, and a bigoted President heartily endorsed by the alt-right and neo-Nazis sits in the White House, it is hard to embrace Trout's optimistic outlook for future change. However, this still did not make Kilgore Trout's exclamations any less truthful or liberating to read.

Vonnegut also points how the social mechanism of inheritance prevents capitalism from functioning as a true meritocracy. There exist many rich people who are inherently lazy and mediocre but are deemed 'great' for simply having the money that their genius ancestors worked to earn. This perplexing situation lies at the heart of Mr. Rosewater's internal conflict. His resultant guilt leads him to do some odd, if well-intended, actions that deem him insane.

Also interesting, is Vonnegut's exploration with how perceived sanity is very reliant on whether or not a person conforms to societal norms. As Vonnegut's raison d'etre is to poke fun at social conventions, his characters almost always range from eccentric to off the wall bonkers. In "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater," because people are so beholden to the social etiquette dictated by capitalism, Eliot's decision to care for people lacking obvious purposes or functions is deemed insane. Meanwhile, Senator Rosewater who is horrified by the very notion of pubic hair, is a public figure representative of sober sanity. Now that's ridiculous.

Overall, this was a great read.

This was one of my favorite books when I was a kid. It was one of the first novels that I read for fun and more than once. I also always considered it the book that got me interested in the fantasy genre. Now that I am well past my formative years, and significantly less easy to impress, I thought it would be fun to go back and re-re-read this novel that left such a big impression.

First off, I was surprised to find that my memory totally betrayed me and that this is only debatably a 'fantasy' book, as it is about magicians rather than magic. More accurately, this is a mystery/thriller that takes place at a royal palace in a fictional Mediterranean kingdom set in 1491.

To be upfront, the characters are not the most original. A key exception though, is the sociopath 10 year old princess who upon hearing a man has died, casually responds with, "Has he? I suppose I should be sorry about it, but I didn't like him... You needn't worry" (Avi, 118). She's a hoot! In Avi's defense, I think the author's intent was to write her as a whimsically capricious princess. Yet, her total detachment from the reality of consequences, combined with a general lack of empathy, accidentally creates a really funny, reoccurring punchline.

Additionally, the narrative is often pushed forward by characters being stupid, and does contain a few plot holes. So why did I give this book 4 stars? I still really liked it, sociopath princess and all! The plot can be messy, but it has enough clever twists, and moves forward in a quick and engaging manner.

I have discovered though, that the main reason the nostalgia rooted so deep with this novel, was that this book is super Italian. In addition to all of the characters having Italian names, the key moral themes throughout the book include loyalty, respecting your elders, and not trusting rich people. This was probably one of the first narratives I ever read for fun where I got to see my own family's weird and lovable idiosyncrasies authentically reflected.

In conclusion, I liked this book for the purely selfish reason of getting to learn about myself.
Bonus: My childhood was not ruined, at least not today.

This is one of the best mysteries, at least that I have ever read. First reading "And Then There Was None" as a kid almost 20 years ago, I was completely blown away by the well-orchestrated plot. Christie sets the dominoes in place like no other, and here was able to produce a superbly exciting narrative.

In achieving this execution (har har), for starters, Christie is able to craft well-rounded characters in very few words. While they undeniably exist to play specific functions or roles for the sake of moving along the plot, these individuals have realistic flaws and innate contradictions that still allow for them to have organic reactions to surreal situations.

There are facets of some of the characters that are more sympathetic than others. As the notion of 'guilt' lies at the heart of the novel, it is fascinating getting to know each individual through their own feelings of perceived guilt to past events in which they may or may not have had a role. Those who express more guilt or regret seem to be more empathetic. But appearances are never what they seem in a Christie novel.

The poem is an especially clever touch. As both a kid and an adult I found myself flipping back and forth throughout the book to look back at the poem, and the accusations made on the gramophone, as I tried to figure out whodunit. It is really easy to get invested in the particularities of Christie's worldbuilding, even if it is all concentrated on one small island.

Last but not least, the red herring, now that was well done.

Whatever you do though, do not pick up an original print of the book. There is a whole drama there worthy of its own book.

Starting as a twisting knot in the gut, this narrative blooms into an all-encompassing dread that lingers long after you put down the book.

I initially read this book when I was 13 years old, about the same age as Elie Weisel when he opens his account in 1941. It left me sad and angry that people could so systematically be dehumanized in every sense of the word. By that age, I already knew that there were dangers from which parents could not protect children, but this novel opened my mind to potential realities where a whole society could pervert justice and allow for so many souls to be dismissed and destroyed. As an adult, I re-read this novel and feel all these same feelings, but now with an understanding of how complacency and apathy allow for such atrocities to occur.

Now, I am also familiar with Giorgio Agamben's concept of "homo sacer," or an individual who has been set apart from common society, who is "hallowed" or "cursed," and as such may be killed by anyone without judicial or moral consequence. A person devoid of personhood. Even today when you read through the news and see the belittling, scapegoating, and othering of minority groups by groups clinging to power, you can see the beginnings of a fragile society dipping into murky waters. But that is why people resist.

Ultimately, there a number of important Holocaust narratives that account human horrors and share paramount truths. Elie Wiesel survives and recounts a truly ugly experience. His memories with his father are especially moving. Eliezer undeniably suffers, but he also rawly reveals the inner-ugliness left by the dehumanization process. His personal account of agony is fully fleshed out in every way, and I suspect that is why it remains so relevant to this day.

The part of this description that has stayed with me through these years, is how the oppressed in the concentration camps were more likely to snap at and fight among each other, rather than rally against the oppressors who institute and regulate this new unjust order. This peculiar facet of human nature that may lie at the truth of why people lean towards complacency, is certainly something that deserves to be further explored.

As the New York Times accounted this is, "a slim volume of terrifying power."

Work hard, play by rules, and then things should fall into place. Things should feel right. You should feel alright. But they don’t and you don’t and life is hell. That is pretty much "The Bell Jar" in a nutshell.

Paradoxically, when I first read this famous tale of a woman going insane as a young and troubled teenager, I no longer felt like I was completely insane. That is the power of this book; it made me feel validated and understood at a time when I was completely isolated in a bell jar of my own. But would it hold up upon re-reading it now that I am a grounded and functional adult?
Short answer: yes.

Long answer:

I am well aware that this book falls into a category of media that is most powerfully impactful when consumed during ones formative years. More often than not I tend to hate these stories, from books like "The Catcher in the Rye," to films like "Donnie Darko." This aversion typically stems from the fact that these stories play upon adolescent malcontent, but ultimately lack any greater substance. What sets Sylvia Plath's semi-autobiographical novel apart is that indignance is not her message, but rather the beginning of a greater exploration of "why?".

The "why" can be found within the setting Esther must live: mid-20th century America. She is a high-achieving scholarship student, but remains directionless and detached from this world. While a universal story, this particular account is then compounded with unequal gender contradictions regulating social convention. Even a woman operating at the highest level still has her agency dictated by her relationships to other people (namely men). Not just a woman’s worth, but her very identity depended not on her intelligence or achievement, but almost entirely on whom she married. Patriarchal hegemony may be a heavy-handed characterization of the time, but it is an accurate description.

Esther is painfully aware of this disparate merit system and is consequently obsessed with a notion of "purity." Not just being pure, but feeling pure. At the beginning of the novel she sees this as not only essential social currency, but the mythical key to feminine fulfillment. The problem is that "purity" is an improbable and toxic construct, rather than an achievable reality. When Esther ultimately comes to the realization that this line of thinking is dumb (thanks Buddy), she becomes obsessed with becoming what she previously perceived to be as impure (having sex) and using this as a means of finally gaining power.

Nothing goes well and more bad things happen (this is a spoiler-free understatement). Ultimately, like many high-achieving young people who are made to believe there is only one rigid path to success, Esther snaps under the pressure and opts to check out. Once she is deemed medically insane, she is still far from free of the metaphorically restraining bell jar, but rather finds herself in the prison-like confines of a mental institution (that's not a spoiler, right?).

Regardless of how one might feel about this book, I think we can all agree that psychology was super bad and horrifyingly underdeveloped during the mid-20th century. Electroshock therapy is now known to be a cruel oxymoron; there is nothing therapeutic about getting high voltage to the brain. The time period's infantilization of women is further amplified with the stigma of being labeled mentally ill. While mental illness can impair ones judgement, it does not leave someone devoid of personhood or intelligence. These are all new encounters around which Esther must navigate.

I should note at this point, that while I respect the struggle Esther endures, she is herself a fairly terrible person. She suffers from a fundamental failure to take personal responsibility. Furthermore, while her racist statements could be written off as the norm of the time, Esther is profoundly unkind to the people who are kind to her, which underscores her inability to value others. Her detachment is partly to blame, but so is the fact that she sees every encounter as a power struggle that must be won. She understands that she exists in a stratified socio-economic society, but rather than using her experiences to empathize with others, she belittles those different from herself.

Inequality and oppression may compose her prison, but Esther's lack of compassion is the true lock and key. Or maybe it was the electroshock, who knows? What I can say is that I do believe her attempts to understand Joan could have been the start of a true watershed moment, but nothing good has any real permanence in this novel (this is another spoiler-free understatement).

After all is said and done, I cannot begin to imagine being an intelligent woman of this time period, especially when considering the fates of the real Sylvia Plath, and Virginia Woolf before her. It must have sucked pretty hard. That specific feeling of existential dread is what Sylvia Plath poignantly captures in "The Bell Jar," and her explorations of how this coalesces is what makes the novel truly impactful.

Ultimately, would I recommend this novel? Absolutely.

BUT! While you can respect Sylvia, do not idolize Esther.

Lloyd Alexander wrote a rich and full series with the Welsh-inspired Chronicles of Prydain. This is a colorful land with even more colorful characters and he adds to the world-building with this set of short stories.

"The Foundling" is easily the strongest standalone tale of the lot, with "The Rascal Crow" and "The Sword" as solid honorable mentions. Other stories do well to introduce the future cast or provide hints to characters' origin stories. Some of these are really fun like "The Truthful Harp," and some are really dull and basic like "The True Enchanter."

Ultimately, this volume is a mixed bag in terms of quality. In terms of content, if you are a fan of the series this is still good reading. Even though this collection is chronologically slated as a prequel series, I would still recommend reading it after the main story line; best to go by publication order here.