This was really effective at raising a bunch of questions about Justice and fall ability being at the heart of the human condition, with societal conditioning either encouraging discourse around it or stymying, often with shame.

It felt very macro to me; despite being granular with interactions and very personal and insular. It’s consistently interesting but never something I completely connected with, perhaps because there didn’t feel like any meaningful stakes. Everything abstract.

I was a bit let down by this one. Mostly because the dynamics are replicated in other stuff I’ve consumed, almost exactly. I’m trying to remember what it is. I’m pretty sure it’s media. Maybe Homeland or The Bureau. But other immigrant stories have similar family dynamics and same inciting incident and fallout.

So what this comes down to, for me, is the prose, which were alright; some standout simile usage that is miles better than most debuts. Character wise, they are harder to evaluate because they feel like they may differ than the average person. But almost tropes if you’ve consumed literature and nonfiction focusing on the same things that this does.

As is, this hovered between a 2 and 3 because I found it predictable and retread ground. But it also came out a while ago; perhaps when it came out this was more novel. It does tell a story and it’s consumable, so I landed on a met expectations 3 (as set by the book).

Really well written and disarming in its erudite prose married to a blunt honesty that vacillates between endearing and funny, and tragedy. The through-line in the title embodies Karr herself, who embodies many different meanings of lit in her adulthood.

The structure is also pretty stand out. It keeps the more-or-less linear progression of Karr’s dissent into alcoholism and unhappiness, but when compelling parts of her life intersect there will be digressions that wrap-up that thread that often keeps tensions high, or otherwise strums the chord of that particular person or event. I found it a deft tactic that often worked well. A lot of the time memoirs will be laser focused and never divert from the theme or series of events, or else they are rampant with diversions and feel muddled.

At times this is easily a five star read, but I was, at times, a little exasperated with what felt to be a bit overly granular in detail of a specific event. You can tell Karr has kept notes and a diary to expound on something that’s happened and to give it due consideration and reflection now. But I was hoping the same amount of rumination would be given to her writing, rather than a string of let-downs for the people in her life due to her alcoholism.

Loved this for spotlighting characters as vivacious and vivid as younger people are often centered and rendered in lit. Admittedly though, the stakes felt less compelling than the concept of these people negotiating not later life, but after well after 30s and 40s and their parents’ issues. Had the prose been a bit more to my preference I think this would have easily been a 4 star read, but still worth a read despite being a fulfillment of a promise and nothing more (to me).

Hypnotic in its prose, this short little story (around 60 pages) with a hefty, and actually extremely valuable introduction, accomplishes quite a bit in a short time. Amos descends into a fit of madness as he turns his thought inward, resulting in a clash of his person and the feral, unknowable, creature within. A relationship his life as a mathematician and husband and father grants no armour whatever, resulting in further spiralling.

This must have been very difficult to translate because the rhythm and specific cadence forming around this self sacrificial ritual that is Amos life builds and builds, then is contextualized with poetry. The diction feels meticulous. The absurdity builds. Sometimes it’s opaque, even—but the themes are well established and vivid.

A compelling experience that forced me to examine the text and reflect; qualities I very much enjoy.

A fun girls-who-hurt-boys-who-hurt-girls / good-for-her popcorn thriller with alternating past and present narratives about a woman in academia who is also a serial killer of predatory men. While a bit more shallow than I would have liked, it is exactly what it says it is on the tin commercial fiction. The underlining psychology is paper thin. What you come to this book for is purely a good time.

One part court room drama, one part historical context of a small community and a land agreement between immigrants and a white, I guess middle class, back when middle class meant something, family. The two of whom are linked in a myriad of ways, not the least of which is the two younger siblings being socialized in the same are, but still very much raised in two worlds. When a member of the community is killed, a member of the Japanese family is fingered. An incident that ignites a powder keg in the town brewing for some time, and sparks the introspection and dissection of the community and two families being examined.

While it does feel slightly dated, I think this unequivocally is attempting to show the effects of war on a community; specifically propaganda and fear mongering feeding into racist ideology out-group(s). In this case, vilifying the Japanese in the war and back home alike.

It can turn a phrase and is more comprehensive in its showing of subtle interactions and motivations. It’s as much a character study as the man accused of murder is having to prove his character to white people who measure him with white standards and attitudes. Decent pacing, great description and dialogue. No real complaints, though I don’t think it knocked my socks off; probably because of the more dated aspects in the characterization of the Japanese family, which border on orientalism in the quintessential reduction of the racial identity. However, as mentioned, it is always clear what the intent of the story is.

A similar argument to designing inclusively. It always lifts everyone, not just the group designed for. See texting, architecture, audiobooks, and countless other examples. Likewise, the harm inflicted by systemic and institutional racism actually keeps white people in poverty or fragile middle class down as well. Zero sum mentality continues to harshen class stratification.

Some of this, more than a little of it, might be stuff people already know. But there’s some surprising overlaps and intersections that you wouldn’t think would be effected. It’s conversational and speaks on personal level with her research and life experience, and mixes in interviews. More than I expected and paced and structured well.

Like all of Haig’s works, it’s an interesting premise with a conceit that slowly turns into a wildly prescriptive and contrived manner of regurgitating self-help aphorisms. There is literally a section near the end that is just a list of these.

Far too artificial and sickly sweet and prescriptive for my tastes. I’m completely done with Haig after this. Writing for a different person than me.