The contents of this book do not line up well with the blurb. Much of the first half sounds like suicidal ideation through the quotes from the different organizations that advocate for individuals who want to die at the time they choose. At points throughout the first half of the book, there's straight up advice. The narration is disjointed, and I feel that this would have been better written as a memoir about the author's constant feeling of invisibility and her fascination with suicide, and a brief publication about her research into Rey Rivera's death. Otherwise, if it had been written as her investigation followed by a section of reflection, this would have been more easily consumable. One thing the blurb gets right is that this book is incredibly voyeuristic. I'm somewhat uncomfortable in having read this.

The Creatures That Time Forgot is about what could happens to humanity if left to survive and evolve on an inhospitable planet. It is a really well told story in terms of answering an interesting question in a unique way. There are a few instances of a men writing women thing I don't like where the main or only attribute of the love interest to be described is her breasts. Not my favorite science fiction story I've ever read, but nowhere close to the worst.

This is the second of Erik Larson's books that I've read, and I found this one to be more engaging by a wide margin throughout the duration of the book. It was incredibly disconcerting to hear about the rampant anti-Semitism of America in the 1930s to 1940s. To hear about a person who is theoretically friends with multiple Jewish individuals, working to stop the atrocities against Jews in Hitler's Germany, and representing the United States in a volatile political sphere lament that he had too many Jews on his staff, and how he wished there were less despite most of them being his best employees. I never quite understand antisemitism, and I remain confused by the doublethink needed to maintain the opinions that these people in positions of power had. For Jewish people of prominence in Berlin being willing to maintain acquaintances, and to some extent, friendships with Nazi sympathizers, people who are friends with Nazis, and straight up Nazis was deeply disconcerting, but also somewhat understandable considering the political climate of the time and the deep desire to fit into avoid violent backlash. The mock trial that took place in New York was really interesting to read about, as were the physical and emotional descriptions of Hitler. He exists as a figurehead in our current comprehension of historical events, and through that lens I forgot how small Germany and the Nazi party is when compared to the US and the size of the US government which I am used to. Overall, this book made me uncomfortable but I am glad that I read it. To hear about the optimism visitors and Germans had for the third Reich and to see how people just brushed incidents of assault and murder under the rug in order to keep the Rose colored view of the world has exacerbated my fears for the future and for the possibility of history repeating itself.
Overall, this was really well written and Larson integrated quotes from primary sources into the narrative artfully. The narrative he wove using the variety of primary source documents he used made the story very engaging despite my discomfort at the subject matter.

This is Pleasure is very well written with a compelling narrative that switches between perspectives and with easily consumable sentence length and structure.
This is Pleasure gives an interesting perspective on sexual harassment in the workplace, and the idea that people can be grandfathered into respectability because they came from a different time. Quinn's lack of understanding of how his actions impact those around him doesn't show malice, exactly, but instead how he views himself to be a good person. He knows that he's different from the younger generation who are more attuned to the fact that women are people, but he doesn't understand the idea that he is in a position of power. Margo being from a similar generation and having the foundation of their relationships be her turning him down makes their relationship quite complicated in the face of the allegations against Quinn because she believes that if she was able to turn him down why weren't the other young women able to do the same. There is a lot of internalized misogyny in these characters. Aside from referencing the accusers as being like Shakespearean witches and calling one of them "a little bitch", Quinn views the women he interacts with as players in the game that is his life. He asked them on to play with him in the intimate and sometimes uncomfortably sexual space he creates in conversation. He's gregarious and powerful in his field, and he draws people in while simultaneously disgusting them. Margo's oscillation between anger at and love for Quinn makes her character particularly interesting to view through the lens of her interactions with other women. She decided that Quinn was better than her female friends because one of them didn't help her in a time of need. At the same time, she disregards the needs, fears, and heartache that plague Quinn's wife and daughter because of his "flirtations" and later the accusations against him. She admits to letting them fade into the background of her relationship with Quinn. For such a short read, this book was very interesting. Most of my friendships exist outside of this space, but every so often at work I'll have an interaction where an older man references me as doll or pretty, and asks me to bag up his book for him because "women always do it better", or one who always asks for help finding a specific variety of books in a specific section because he knows it means I'll have to kneel in front of him to get them. I'm glad to not have people like Quin as intimate friends, but I'm also glad to have read this to get a glimpse into their psyche.

Anthem is the weird ancestor to 1984 and The Giver. As the book shifts between parts, the progression of the plot was somewhat easy for me to guess ahead of time.

Prometheus is an interesting and apt name for the narrator to give himself, as is Gaea for him to give to the golden one. When the two escaped into the uncharted forest, I was sure they were going to become the next incarnation of Adam and Eve. The use of names from Greek mythology was an interesting way to use and change that concept. The final parts of the novel have a lot of biblical themes. Prometheus's goal to return to the city and retrieve his friends to bring them to his home/compound and build a new world is reminiscent of Noah's ark. He wants to encourage enlightenment among his former brothers, but is willing to let them continue to suffer if they are not willing to learn. Aside from the syntactic idiosyncrasies and the "I'm not like other guys/girls" nature of the narrator and his love interest, I found the concept of Anthem interesting and the characters scaling between tolerable and likable. The fact that some of those willing to fully bend to the will of plurality and collective identity were also willing to compromise and put themselves at risk to protect the narrator as a preferred friend show that there is quiet dissent among the individuals in the world they live in whether or not there is a way to express it.

Overall, the story is enjoyable, though I don't agree with the political ideology the book seems to promote in terms of rejecting all ideas of collectivism as the erasure of individual identity.

Lumberjanes: a Terrible Plan is a wonderful addition to the series! I like the additional insight readers are given into the relationships between characters. Jo and April's friendship going so far back is super cool, and I love the use of their baby photo during the scrapbooking competition to showcase it. I was also surprised to realize that Molly and Mal met that summer at camp. Their bond seemed really close, but some of that now seems more likely to be infatuation/admiration/mutual crushing alongside the bond they formed as cabin mates. Ripley continues to be lovable, and I really enjoy that their councilors understand her enthusiasm for trying to learn new things and doing her best, and award her badges accordingly. Her ballroom dancing dress reminded me of a princess costume I had as a kiddo, and I think it's fitting that Ripley's formal wear matches the same style of clothes as her daily wear. It's cool, colorful, and full of enthusiasm like Ripley's blue hair warm toned outfits. Ripley bonding with Bubbles was also incredibly wholesome.

This was an interesting look at Pyongyang from the perspective of a foreigner on a long-term work assignment in North Korea. Most accounts I've read of North Korea have come from expats and journalists. Most recently I read a book by Suki Kim. To read about somebody living and working in North Korea as a foreigner, and walking around Pyongyang without a minder was a bit jarring, especially after reading how closely watched and isolated Suki Kim, her fellow teachers, and students were kept only 8 years later. It's very possible that in 2003 when this book was written, international relations with North Korea were different in a way that I can't fully grasp without having lived it. Overall, this was an interesting read, but far less informative than I had hoped. The author does not seem to view the people around him as people, and there's some unexpected sexism in how he discusses the attractive young women who run the tours he goes on.

I loved this book infinitely more than I thought possible! The characters are all lovable dorks that have been paired with a fun, refreshing, and deeply engaging plot. I like that there's ample use of found family and biological family being supportive and loving to Beetle, Kat, and Blob ghost. It shows a side of LGBTQ and neurodivergent experiences that I haven't seen often, where friends and family are loving and supportive because of who they are, not despite it.
Granny's notes throughout the book are one of the sweetest repeated motifs I've ever seen used in a graphic novel. The background characters and setting are pleasantly reminiscent of the Halloweentown movies. If I could give this book 100/5 stars, I would!

Suki Kim is a gifted story teller and personalized the students she worked with to her readers expertly. The lives of the elite children of North Korea aren't something outsiders have access to, and they feel dystopian in a way that's unfamiliar to a western audience. Despite the unfamiliarity, there is a through line of familiar discontentment. They lack the vocabulary to express their sorrows, fears, and desires in a way that is hard to fathom. I hope that some day the cognitive dissonance that's foundational to the continued survival of the North Korean regime falls to revolution.

Michelle McNamara's work to hunt down the Golden State Killer is exceptional. Her dedication to the work and her writing style make the book an engaging read that made me want to keep reading long into the night despite the content. The sections compiled after her death were done with so much respect for her and her work show how much she meant to her friends, loved ones, and colleagues.