calarco's Reviews (760)

In a world of unreliable narrators, enter Christoper, one of the most honest and straight-forward narrators you will ever likely read. Told from the viewpoint of a 15-year-old boy on the autism spectrum, events of this murder mystery are conveyed in a very logical and concise manner. And it is so very exciting.

One thing that The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time captures so well, is the thought process of someone trying to make sense of a complex, illogical, and scary world. This is a struggle that all humans face, especially as they enter their teen years.

Unlike so many coming-of-age stories though, Christopher has a firm understanding of exactly who he is and what he wants. His internal conflict stems from navigating a world where people comprehend and communicate in ways that are inherently different from his own experience.

This is a great read, I would definitely recommend it to just about anyone. It is a solid 4 stars (sorry this is not a prime number).

Thanks in part to being #256 on my library's wait-list to nab a copy, I was able to read this book after the peak of its hype, and with a bit of hindsight. In truth, there is little that was surprising about this account, except perhaps how it came to be written. The tale of how Michael Wolff got access to so many key players in the chaotic White House, is probably more interesting than Fire and Fury itself.

Should you pick up a copy, you will quickly find that this is by no means our generation's All the President's Men, but rather a salacious tabloid account befitting our (dumb and racist) reality-star President. For as little respect as I have for the "journalism" or "research" presented, there is no denying this book has wormed its way into the zeitgeist, and I would be lying if I did not admit that I found it wildly entertaining.

In a way, even writing this review in April 2018, there are parts of the book that are already outdated, in that so many of the main players have already been fired or quit. On the other hand, even though Donald Trump's photo is on the cover, I feel like Fire and Fury is more accurately a tale of Bannon's time and (horrifying) influence in the White House, and with this focus it may have enduring significance.

Anyway, if you have an interest in this book, then I would recommend it. Just be aware of what it is, and regard the information accordingly.

If I were to try to explain the pacing of "The Black Cauldron," it would be a slow start that unexpectedly and exponentially improves as the narrative progresses. Seriously, the beginning is frustrating with obvious foreshadowing being super obvious. BUT! by the end there are so many twists and turns, you have no idea which side of the River Tevvyn you're on, both figuratively and literally.

More importantly, the second volume of The Chronicles of Prydain introduces the three witches of the Marshes of Morva, perhaps my favorite characters of this series. Neither good nor evil, Orddu, Orwen, and Orgoch were an enchanting trio for me to read a child. Things are not always what they seems, and certainly not omnipotent witches chillin' in a marsh.

Ultimately, the best part of this book is the denunciation of pride. This was always my least favorite of the seven deadly sins, because it is the most destructive in that it creeps up in "good" and "bad" people alike. Armies and magical creatures aside, this is the true struggle for the novel's protagonists.

Overall, I would definitely recommend this one.

Throughout the Earthsea Cycle, the concept of balance has been critical to understanding characters' relationships with society and environment, especially as seen with the protagonist Ged. In The Farthest Shore the disruption of balance serves as a main antagonizing force that not only drives the plot, but further explains the "rules" of magic throughout the archipelago and beyond.

Overall, as this is very much a coming-of-age story for the young prince Arren, it was hard not to draw comparisons to what I consider to be a superior entry to the series, A Wizard of Earthsea, aka- Ged's coming-of-age tale. Truthfully, Arren is a rather bland character compared to the colorful figures that have been introduced so far; sorry dude.

What does make The Farthest Shore a solid book is the world-building. The dragons are compelling creatures throughout the series, and continue to raise the drama. Other cool moments include meeting the Raft People, a deep-sea version of the Uru who live on man-made islands in Puno, Peru.

If you enjoyed the previous books, I would recommend continuing the series with this one.

I am truly surprise by how much I did not like this one. Celeste Ng is without a doubt a talented writer, but holy cow was Everything I Never Told You deeply upsetting.

In Little Fires Everywhere, Ng does a great job realistically showing how a lack of communication can foster bitterness and misunderstanding. It should have been no surprise that this theme would also be present in a book literally titled Everything I Never Told You, but in this case it was maddeningly frustrating and really did not serve a greater purpose. There was no grand cathartic revelation of a character that spoke to the human condition to make sense of the suffering. Perhaps this was intentional, but it made the novel hard palate on the whole.

I also cannot get past how much I hate James. The scene with him and Nath at the pool and James’ treatment of his son afterwards transformed his character from a flawed individual to a terrible, cowardly, pathetic excuse for a father. I have little sympathy for parents who are intentionally cruel to their children. For all the bad Marylin does to Lydia, I felt by the novel’s end James was the true villain of the tale, even though I’m pretty sure there was not supposed to be an antagonist in the traditional sense.

Having grown up in a biracial family myself, there was a lot written that I can say rang true, in the novel’s defense. I know what it’s like to be the most ‘exotic’ family on the block, and the feelings of loneliness and isolation that can arise. All of this is captured well and with great authenticity.

What I cannot get past is how little agency Lydia and her family are allowed. Again, perhaps this is done intentionally, to shed light on the realities of injustice and unfairness. But then all that was left was bad things happening for the sake of bad things happening. I just can’t accept that as artistic, and it definitely was not enjoyable.

Overall, this was a letdown for me. I don’t think I could recommend it.

Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny is an important exploration of how tyranny has, can, and will manifest throughout time. He not only provides historical examples, but in depth analyses of underlying mechanisms that allow for tyranny to take root and thrive. He makes a number of complex arguments and conveys them with great simplicity and readability, sans academic jargon. This book is pretty dope.

Calling on Milgram’s shock experiments (21), Snyder explains how complacency and a blind adherence to normalcy without question or individual thought are essential conditions for the rise of tyranny (40). Should a person blindly accept that an explanation contrary to reality and physical evidence to be truth, then they are poised to passively accept tyranny (66). Passivity and nihilism are just as essential for tyranny, as zealous acceptance.

Snyder later recounts how after being democratically elected, Nazi ruled Germany used the Reichstag fire as a means to enable an “enabling act,” which expanded the powers of the ruling body at the expense of civil rights (105). Similar to Naomi Klein’s argument in The Shock Doctrine, those in power can and have exploited crises to instill changes that would not normally fly in a democracy.

Furthermore, one of the most important points Snyder makes is detailing the differences between “nationalism” and “patriotism,” and how these pertain to President Trump. Snyder asserts that, “...patriotism involves serving your own country. The president is a nationalist, which is not at all the same thing as a patriot. A nationalist encourages us to be our worst, and then tells us that we are the best...Nationalism is relativist, since the only truth is the resentment we feel when we contemplate others” (113). This is a painfully important distinction, especially as so many who believe themselves to be 'patriotic' have in actuality fallen under populist nationalism.

Another key argument Snyder drives home, is that democracy and other institutions we believe to be all-powerful, are in actuality quite fragile (22). They only exist as long as people allow for them to exist. To ensure that institutions we hold dear continue to operate requires personal civic engagement. When Snyder communicates what he means be civil engagement, he clarifies that actions in addition to words, are essential. “Protest can be organized through social media, but nothing is real that does not end on the streets” (84). In an age of 'online-activism,' I certainly agree that a true progressive has to do more than 'bravely' share their opinions on Facebook.

At this point I must confess that much of this text proved to reaffirm a great deal of what I already believe and practice. After the 2016 election, I immediately began donating to institutions that work for causes that I felt would not be supported (or would be outright attacked) by a Trump government, like Planned Parenthood, the Nature Conservancy, and the ACLU. I march in rallies and support those who worked to utilize their first amendment rights in productive, patriotic ways.

So if you too feel fatigued from the now necessary levels of engagement we must actively do to maintain our rights and important institutions, then this book will do for you what eating a mushroom does for Mario. I have a lot of respect for practice-what-you-preach manifestations of activism, so I definitely recommend this book. Good stuff.

In this edition, the first half of the collection is composed of (some) poems from the original Goblin Market and Other Poems (1862) and focuses predominantly on love and relationships. The second half contains poems from The Prince's Progress and Other Poems (1866), which takes a tonal shift focusing more on religion and death. While variable in content, the quality is consistently beautiful. Christina Rossetti is exceptionally good at expressing bitter sentiment with sweet prose.

The titular poem, "Goblin Market," is a stellar standout. It features a woman who falls to addiction, but is able to save herself with the help of another woman; this is a downright revolutionary take on the tale of the "fallen woman" for its time. I must have read this one poem at least a half dozen times, it was that enthralling.

This particular poem is also fascinating, in that it has since garnered a reputation for being "that super gay poem." It would be near impossible to dissect the mind of Christina Rossetti in regards to her personal feelings towards sexuality, especially as those constructs would be specific to her time. That said, I would still argue that "Goblin Market" could very well be a story of a romantic pairing in that the prose had many similarities to "Song of Songs" from The Bible (aka: the most sexual entry of the Old Testament), of all things.

Overall, this is a strong collection. Regardless of what prompts you to pick up a copy, I am confident that it will be well worth it.