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OKAY this is my fourth DeLillo and it is time I finally admit once and for all that I only enjoyed White Noise and I actually can’t stand DeLillo’s writing style
I really did enjoy this, all things considered, but GOOD LORD that was the condensed version? Took me four full months to read this 550-page horny anarchist opus
Man oh man, what a disappointment. Whereas there is a time and place for theory as a foundation in movement building, my takeaway is that Saitō is an amazing scholar and capable of philosophizing an ideal to death. I am always weary of a text where the author is constantly hedging their statements to their readership and anticipating blow-back, i.e., “this isn’t the usual Marxist read” and such. The protesting too much red flag, but I kept reading. A satisfying text starts with a hypothesis and an investigation and is self aware of its own contradictions and possible debunking. Saitō seems to have had a very clear landing strip, a thing he wanted to very firmly claim, and then worked his way backwards to cherry-pick the bits of Marxism that works best for him. To add to the issue, I do wonder which parts were just poor translation from his original text, which is of course not the author’s fault. Do I deeply hate capitalism? Yes. Do I remain open to hearing how degrowth communism provides a dramatic shift towards a more sustainable world? Also yes. Did this text make such ideas seem possible? Not at all. Just a disappointing experience overall.
Nothing profound I can really say about my favorite book in the world. It’s a perfect novel, warts and all (and THERE ARE WARTS, really gross stuff for a book written in ‘85 depicting attitudes and language of small-town Maine in ‘58). Cruise the most-liked GoodReads reviews of IT because what can be said has been said. I miss the seven friends of the Loser’s Club so much already.
Adichie’s debut novel from 2004 is a really good, sumptuous yet tense story about girlhood amid religious fanaticism in post-Armed Forces Nigeria. Big recommend, will read more.
This Genre books from the 33 1/3 series are such a true delight. The slim size is deceiving; I learned in under 200 pages more than I’ve ever known about South Africa creative arts. Sadly, I think the average American only knows about South Africa through Nelson Mandela and the apartheid state (I’m guilty of that myself). My only sadness is that each chapter is capped off with suggested Spotify links to hear the artists and it’s a lonely life without Spotify
Decent but as far as King goes, not a top for me. I think telekinesis plots only go so far with me. The relationship ship between Sarah and Johnny, though, and Johnny’s family— the human elements— were the most interesting part.
Biased by the fact that I love David Mitchell. I got a little eye-glazed at times and like I said before— a bunch of information I’ll never retain, but I had a chuckle.
