sunn_bleach's Reviews (249)

Infamously bad in the Twain canon - and still pretty bad even when you consider that. Both of these were written because Twain wanted to get paid, and it shows. They attempt to satirize common trends of the time (detective stories and travel/adventure stories), but they fail to actually be funny while also just being miles away from the grounded, down-home life that is idiosyncratic to Tom Sawyer. Don't read unless you just *have* to check out everything by Twain.

Scott Adams' bullshit notwithstanding, I have a lot of affection for this book and Dilbert himself throughout the late 80s to riiiight about here. Those who didn't have jobs during this time (and that includes me) won't really get the soul-sucking corporatism and "downsizing" obsessions that typifies the 90s; i.e. why "Office Space" is occasionally a documentary. I first read this when I was in middle school and just liked the comics - nowadays, I get it just a little bit more.

I'm a huge fan of every other book I've read by Tim O'Brien, with "The Things They Carried" occasionally being in my top ten books ever read. "Northern Lights" was his very first, and it's.... rough going. O'Brien attempted to evoke similar brevity as Hemingway but with a modernist bent, especially when capturing the not-at-ease bedtime conversations between lovers. Unfortunately it just didn't work, and it's no surprise that O'Brien never attempted this kind of prose again. Infamously, the two-pages of "do you love me?" repeated ad nauseam; I get what he was going for, but nah.

There's a nugget of a good idea here - a humble gardener finding his way around the "no wishing for more wishes" rule and all the time-travel hijinx that could come with that. Unfortunately, I just didn't really find this book funny. Alan Moore's introduction makes it seem like this is going to be some totally wacky and idea-filled romp, but it reads more like the kind of humor I'd write in middle school when I thought my idea of a semi-transparent purple dragon hogging the road was the funniest thing ever (nobody laughed when I read it aloud). Plenty of "lolrandom xD", little substance. It reads like it was written in an afternoon and then sent to print.

What I like about this book is how well Anderson shows how painful, boring, and exhausting hiking adventures actually are. This is the true story of the PCT as opposed to the banality of "Wild"; one that's full of near-misses and time spent staring at the dirt as mountains pop up around you. Anderson isn't the strongest  writer - but who the fuck cares? She tells reality.

Harrowing yet gorgeous. This book blends the line between reality and story so strongly that I still don't really know what happened to O'Brien and what didn't - and I also don't think that's really the point. This is a meta book, as much about how to write a war novel and the fantasies we tell ourselves as it is about the Vietnam War itself. Hopeful? Perhaps, if survival itself is hopeful. I feel like that's almost an insult to the platoon, though.

A mostly-okay memoir that takes a *wild* left-turn at the end as McDermott tells you why he believed the Germans were utterly incapable as a "race" to reflect upon their warlike tendencies. Holy shit man, I'd hate to see what you were like during the Civil Rights Era.

One of those books that reminds you how people like this were alive and influencing American politics well into the 2000s.

Rupi Kaur is a poetry war criminal. While there are some pretty ideas in Kaufman's book (and it's hard to put down something that a *very* young adult wrote), it uses the same faux-deepness as Kaur: writing one-liners and randomly indenting them. Yeah no.

Probably the most forgettable nonfiction book on media and presidencies I can think of, especially for one nearing 600 pages long. It doesn't help that Greenberg writes with the most stereotypical possible approach to presidency issues; it's like you can feel the jaded coastal elite (a phrase I am otherwise loathe to use, being/having been one myself) and "ah yes of course" references or disdains toward various presidents.

This isn't nonfiction so much as it is fanfiction for WaPo editorialists.

Informative be damned - this book is goddamn funny. And in all the ways that befits indie rock, such as the idea that Jimmy Carter very likely touched skin cells from the Butthole Surfers. The best (only?) way to experience this book is to listen to the music while you explore each band, and man what an absolute unequivocal dive each and every chapter is with immensely readable prose told through vignettes and music.

Only problem - who the fuck cares about Beat Happening? That band ruined indie music before it got off the ground; man I cannot stand the onanism of not learning how to play your instruments and that somehow being authentic.