my september reads

Here’s my month of reading from September, in short and sweet review style:

The Associate by John Grisham

This was my first Grisham and probably my last. Compared to the movies I’ve seen of his novels (The Firm, Pelican Brief) this novel was plodding, and did not provide the necessary urgency to make me worried for the safety of the protagonist. In fact, I felt little to no concern for the protagonist — Kyle — who seemed smug, petulant, misogynistic, and whose choices didn’t seem particularly wise or well-planned. The mystery and noose-tightening aspect of the blackmail plot lost steam as it rested on Kyle’s unsympathetic and uninteresting shoulders.

But the real reason I will never read another Grisham novel was his gratuitous objectification of women throughout the novel. From the hero’s constant use of the “she’s a slut, she wanted it” defense of rape to the reduction of all female characters into sex objects and/or lesbian man-haters, Grisham’s novel was basically an introductory course in sexual harassment and gender stereotyping.

I have to stop. Too angry.

Fiasco by Thomas E. Ricks

I was wary of this one because it looked very dense and I tend to have a limited capacity for absorbing military literature (too many acronyms and long winded titles). But this book was thoroughly readable, provided great insight and perspective into the misguided, misinformed, and mistaken military expedition in Iraq. The writing was clean and eloquent and captivating, and the author provided a good analysis of where (and why) the military and civilian efforts went awry — teaching the reader about the difference between counterinsurgency strategy/tactics and traditional warfare as well as the American military’s training focus between the two. This analysis balanced well with the play by play of the war and the more classical reporting aspects of the book.

Just a Couple of Days by Tony Vigorito

An apocalyptic tale of scientific ethics and capitalism, I was engrossed in this novel at the beginning. But then the book derailed a little and became a tad unclear as to what it was trying to be. It started off fairly narrative-based, with development of interesting characters and plot line. But towards the end, it devolved into academic pontification and philosophical masturbation that felt out of place and like a trick to the reader who, promised a good story for the first 250 pages, is too far in and committed now to step away and therefore is a captive (hostage) audience for this sociology professor’s lecture.

Also, enough with the metaphors, ok? Every other sentence contains a long winded metaphor that does little to aid the author in illustrating a point, but greatly distracts the reader. Perhaps this was for effect — given the book’s critique on the sufficiency of language in conveying a point. But it was wearisome nonetheless.

First Bite by Bee Wilson

Inspiring and interesting, although it did leave me in a lot of fear for the prospect of ever trying to feed a child appropriately. As someone who has always struggled with an unhealthy addiction to sweets, I was heartened at the idea at the core of this book that you can change and learn new, better eating habits. Unfortunately, though, I don’t feel like the author really followed through on this thesis (at least not in the how-to sense that I was hoping for). The book talked a lot about the fact that people learn eating habits and that they can change, but I didn’t get a real clear picture of HOW people can change them. Again, my main takeaway was that being a parent and not screwing up your child’s relationship to food is pretty near impossible.

The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky

I feel distinctly unqualified to review (and especially to negatively review) a classic piece of literature like The Idiot. But, nevertheless, I feel the need to say a few words about this monster of a book. And then never look at it again for as long as I live.

I really enjoyed The Brothers Karamazov, so I was surprised by how much I didn’t like this one. Maybe it was too philosophical for an enjoyable read for me? I’m inclined to think that when I don’t enjoy a well-respected work, it’s probably because it went over my head.

In any event, this one was rough. Meandering, boring, so many characters who would go on interminable monologues that I couldn’t make it through in one sitting — sometimes not even in one day. And then the ending seemed rushed (which, admittedly, I was thankful for as I got to page 600, but which made the preceding hundreds of pages seem like a cruel, unnecessary joke). Dasvidanya, dude. Good riddance.

Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin

The relationship between different species throughout the process of evolution was an interesting topic, but I found the science a bit dense at times and ended up having to re-read paragraphs to make sure I was absorbing the information. The book combines both paleontology and genetics, and I think the author (a paleontologist) was at his best and most comfortable on the paleontology and even anatomy sections, especially the sections describing his own digs and fossil finds. By contrast, the genetics sections didn’t flow quite as easily or naturally and ended up being the sections I had to re-read more often. Overall, I would say this was a fine read and quick — I managed to read it in a day even with my re-reading — but not mind blowing.

Child Star by Shirley Temple Black

I was so excited to read this book. Even though I wouldn’t say I’m a huge Shirley Temple fan, I’ve always found her preeminence in the 1930s, and her subsequent diplomatic efforts, fascinating. I’m not usually a fan of autobiography as much as biography, however. This book was a good example of why. It was hard to ensure I was getting a clear picture of Shirley Temple’s career as a child when she was writing about herself and describing events that occurred when she was less than 10 years old. I certainly can’t say I would be able to do that with any degree of accuracy. That being said, if Shirley Temple is, in fact, being accurate and honest, I was thoroughly impressed with how disciplined she was as a child actress and well adjusted she ended up.

Generally, as a book, I thought this was a little unnecessarily long. Perhaps because she is combining both her own childhood memories with obvious research done after the fact into the business deals of the time, Ms. Black’s descriptions of events ended up a little long-winded and her childhood memories seemed to be included in excrutiating detail without any triaging based on importance or noteworthiness. I was also disappointed that in such a long book it didn’t reach her years as a diplomat or ambassador, but I guess that’s my fault for not looking at when she wrote the book.

The Bin Ladens by Steve Coll

This was one of those books where I’m glad I read it, but I wasn’t so glad while I was doing the reading. Kind of like exercise. While it was interesting to learn about the family origins of Osama Bin Laden and his family’s long history of international political and financial endeavors, the book for long periods read like an amateur financial report trying to trace money through various corporations and transactions without much clear success. Not being particularly financially or business inclined, I found myself drifting in these parts. None of the nitty gritty really matters unless you’re taking a Bin Laden final exam, but it’s all included nonetheless making this a very long, often tedious exercise to get to an overall impression of a historical family that, in the end and in the general, is very worthwhile.

The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike

I don’t really know how I felt about this book, even after thinking about it for a few days. I was preoccupied most of the time with what appeared to be a misogynistic tone throughout the book, which caught me off guard because I had read that this novel was viewed as a pro-feminist move by Updike. But as strong and independent as the witches were, I was annoyed by the fact that they were largely focused on men as the center of their universe. I mean, these women can fly and create thunderstorms, and yet most of their days and thoughts are consumed by who’s fucking who and which woman is going to get the guy and petty in-fighting over boys’ attention.

That being said, if I tried to ignore the larger question of meaning and feminism, it was an enjoyable read for the sheer artistry of Updike’s writing.

The Mummy Congress by Heather Pringle

If you’ve ever found yourself drawn to the mummy section of the museum, then this book is a great choice for you. It’s chock full of the weird, varied, and surprising anecdotal history of mummies that make these archaeological specimens so fascinating to so many people. Each chapter deals with a different rabbit hole of mummy research, almost like individual mummy articles, which kept the book fresh and interesting even at 300+ pages on a topic as seemingly narrow as mummies. My only complaint was the author’s conclusions at chapters which waxed a little too wanna-be philosophical and sentimental for my taste in an otherwise detached exploration of curiosity. Overall: quirky and satisfying.

Of course, I was probably pre-disposed to liking this book given how much I enjoyed Mary Roach’s Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. I swear I’m not a creep; I just appear to be disproportionately interested in cadavers.