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3.63 AVERAGE
3.63 AVERAGE
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
The first half of the book really pulled me in. Really enjoyed the writing. It was a great blend of insights into the hedge fund world (something I knew next to nothing about), and the self-reflection about what it means the be traditionally successful and what pressures that puts on you wrt making “the right” career choices.
I saw myself in Carrie while reading much of this book.
I saw myself in Carrie while reading much of this book.
inspiring
sad
tense
fast-paced
informative
reflective
medium-paced
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Private Equity is surprisingly less about the world of hedge funds and private equity funds and more about burnout, overwork and the hierarchy at firms like these along with Sun’s personal trauma from various relationships throughout her life prior to her job at the hedge fund. Sun is an intelligent, sharp writer and I loved hearing her insights on high-powered (and high-paying) jobs, the immigrant experience, and burnout. I don’t necessarily agree with everything she says, but it’s worth reading. My biggest issue was the idea that she went from MIT to Fidelity and still genuinely thought that a top hedge fund would better/different – something about it doesn’t quite make sense. Overall, I’m glad I listened to this one – it’s a good commute listen.
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
tense
medium-paced
challenging
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
tense
medium-paced
slow-paced
I was really looking forward to this and it was a big let down. Thought it'd be juicier. Felt like a slog. Maybe I would have liked it more if I didn't listen as an audiobook because the narration did nooot work for me.
So bad, it actually makes me mad.
It’s bad on the level of the storytelling (boring and cliché); it’s bad on the level of the story (predictable and tired); it’s bad on the level of the prose (clunky at best, cringey at worst); it’s bad on the level of the character establishment and development (there is neither logic nor color to Carrie as a character); and it’s bad on the level of tone: Carrie comes off as a narcissist, who is problematically out of touch, and who, to boot, encourages a millennial narrative of skinny = healthy. She’s also insufferable in her self-aggrandizement, as well as in her annoyingly naive worship of Boone, Carbon, and the American institution of hedge funds.
The big lightbulb moment that Carrie has is that this hedge fund isn’t saving the world…? We’re watching this 30-year-old woman self-fascinate about her lightbulb moments, and they’re all realizations we all took to be universally accepted as understood. ‘Wait… is there a socioeconomic underbelly to the finance industry?’ ‘Guys it’s crazy… my workdays and life as a very well paid executive assistant revolve entirely around another person and not myself!’
I think what happened here is that Carrie Sun lived these experiences, she thought them fascinating (assuming we all would too), and she figured that the story wrote itself. She was wrong there on two fronts: (1) these experiences weren’t all that interesting, because we’ve all heard these things (and crazier things) so many times over in media and culture that it’s not surprising, any of this; and (2) even if we did buy the content as interesting, it’s not enough for content to be interesting—the telling of it must be interesting too (and Sun does a pretty poor job of crafting and developing this story in an interesting manner). Her stories are boring and completely unsurprising, and her telling of these stories is boring and irritating too. And her writing at a sentence level is completely uninspired.
I was disappointed because I had been looking forward to this release. The descriptive copy billed this book as an exposé about the finance world and a juicy dish of wild stories garnered from being an executive assistant for a powerful hedge fund manager. I expected to be shocked and appalled by her anecdotes, and to at least learn a thing or two about the finance world. Instead, I was nothing more than annoyed and frustrated and sometimes angry (particularly at the out-of-touch-ness surrounding money and eating habits/body image). The book is billed as being about the finance world and the assistant grind; in reality—it’s a book about Carrie. And all due respect, but I don’t care about Carrie at all; why would I care about her life stories, unless she convinces me I should? And her writing doesn’t do any of the work necessary to make me care about any of that or her.
Contrary to how it is positioned, in reality this book is just a memoir about self-discovery—veering into becoming Carrie’s song of praise for herself far too often, and to eye-rolls and groans—and it is very, very much about Carrie. Who cares? (Not the general reader public.)
It’s bad on the level of the storytelling (boring and cliché); it’s bad on the level of the story (predictable and tired); it’s bad on the level of the prose (clunky at best, cringey at worst); it’s bad on the level of the character establishment and development (there is neither logic nor color to Carrie as a character); and it’s bad on the level of tone: Carrie comes off as a narcissist, who is problematically out of touch, and who, to boot, encourages a millennial narrative of skinny = healthy. She’s also insufferable in her self-aggrandizement, as well as in her annoyingly naive worship of Boone, Carbon, and the American institution of hedge funds.
The big lightbulb moment that Carrie has is that this hedge fund isn’t saving the world…? We’re watching this 30-year-old woman self-fascinate about her lightbulb moments, and they’re all realizations we all took to be universally accepted as understood. ‘Wait… is there a socioeconomic underbelly to the finance industry?’ ‘Guys it’s crazy… my workdays and life as a very well paid executive assistant revolve entirely around another person and not myself!’
I think what happened here is that Carrie Sun lived these experiences, she thought them fascinating (assuming we all would too), and she figured that the story wrote itself. She was wrong there on two fronts: (1) these experiences weren’t all that interesting, because we’ve all heard these things (and crazier things) so many times over in media and culture that it’s not surprising, any of this; and (2) even if we did buy the content as interesting, it’s not enough for content to be interesting—the telling of it must be interesting too (and Sun does a pretty poor job of crafting and developing this story in an interesting manner). Her stories are boring and completely unsurprising, and her telling of these stories is boring and irritating too. And her writing at a sentence level is completely uninspired.
I was disappointed because I had been looking forward to this release. The descriptive copy billed this book as an exposé about the finance world and a juicy dish of wild stories garnered from being an executive assistant for a powerful hedge fund manager. I expected to be shocked and appalled by her anecdotes, and to at least learn a thing or two about the finance world. Instead, I was nothing more than annoyed and frustrated and sometimes angry (particularly at the out-of-touch-ness surrounding money and eating habits/body image). The book is billed as being about the finance world and the assistant grind; in reality—it’s a book about Carrie. And all due respect, but I don’t care about Carrie at all; why would I care about her life stories, unless she convinces me I should? And her writing doesn’t do any of the work necessary to make me care about any of that or her.
Contrary to how it is positioned, in reality this book is just a memoir about self-discovery—veering into becoming Carrie’s song of praise for herself far too often, and to eye-rolls and groans—and it is very, very much about Carrie. Who cares? (Not the general reader public.)
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced