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grisostomo_de_las_ovejas's reviews
79 reviews
Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl
2.0
I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’ve given a lauded holocaust memoir a two-star rating. It’s not that I didn’t find Frankl’s story compelling and crushing. His anecdotes about hand-tilling the snow-hardened ground of a concentration camp under the icy glares of Nazis made my heart ache. I mourned with him as his friends dropped one by one in the labour camps, their souls long having mouldered away. I even broke a smile when he described being slipped a crust of stale bread by a sympathetic guard. The story was touching.
It was when Frankl began to talk about why he was surviving (and others) that I fell off the train. He claimed that the fire keeping him alive in the cold nazi Hellscape was a sort of “inner meaning” that critically necessary for life. It would be ridiculous of me to question the truth of his words to him. He survived through the Holocaust by holding his philosophy dear. I’ve done nothing of the sort.
Even so, I’m not convinced that, as Frankl extrapolates, everyone needs an inner source of meaning to survive and flourish in life. I’ve not once in my life been able to pinpoint a specific reason that I wake up and continue to do what I do day-by-day. All the same, I do it and I enjoy it. Does that mean to Frankl that I’m lost? Does it mean to him that I’m living a life the comfortable 21st century non-persecuted equivalent of his friends who couldn’t find their light in the camps and crumbled because of it? Does it mean that not having an inner light dooms me to be unable to overcome the worst challenges in my life? For some reason, perhaps just personal insecurity, it felt like Frankl was trying to say that. Maybe I’m being selfish by focusing on myself while reading a book about the Holocaust, but Frankl seemed quite intent on urging the reader to adopt his philosophy. I respect him, and I think he’s a better person than me, but I’m not sure I can accept his philosophy. So because I’m a big baby who doesn’t understand how book ratings should work, I give the book an apologetic two stars.
It was when Frankl began to talk about why he was surviving (and others) that I fell off the train. He claimed that the fire keeping him alive in the cold nazi Hellscape was a sort of “inner meaning” that critically necessary for life. It would be ridiculous of me to question the truth of his words to him. He survived through the Holocaust by holding his philosophy dear. I’ve done nothing of the sort.
Even so, I’m not convinced that, as Frankl extrapolates, everyone needs an inner source of meaning to survive and flourish in life. I’ve not once in my life been able to pinpoint a specific reason that I wake up and continue to do what I do day-by-day. All the same, I do it and I enjoy it. Does that mean to Frankl that I’m lost? Does it mean to him that I’m living a life the comfortable 21st century non-persecuted equivalent of his friends who couldn’t find their light in the camps and crumbled because of it? Does it mean that not having an inner light dooms me to be unable to overcome the worst challenges in my life? For some reason, perhaps just personal insecurity, it felt like Frankl was trying to say that. Maybe I’m being selfish by focusing on myself while reading a book about the Holocaust, but Frankl seemed quite intent on urging the reader to adopt his philosophy. I respect him, and I think he’s a better person than me, but I’m not sure I can accept his philosophy. So because I’m a big baby who doesn’t understand how book ratings should work, I give the book an apologetic two stars.
Beijing Coma by Ma Jian
4.0
There are three reasons that could plausibly explain me saying I like this book.
1. This book took a lot of time to read and I want to convince myself that it was worth it and I don’t just lack the willpower to stop doing things I don’t like.
2. I don’t know much about Chinese politics or the 1994 Tiananmen Square Massacre and this was my first real dive into it
3. The book was good
I think a combination of reasons 2 and 3 best explain why I liked the book. Beijing Coma really was a good book, but it had serious shortcomings and I think reason 2 covered them up for me and let me give the book a good rating.
Starting with the good, the author, Ma Jian, did an excellent job of developing a large cast of characters well enough that I could keep them distinct and develop feelings for the thirty odd main ones over the course of 700 pages. In retrospect, I think that was really important. Seeing one person’s interaction with the protests in Tiananmen Square would’ve been interesting (because the protagonist is cool), but it would’ve taken away something from the book which, despite following a protagonist, really attempted to tell the story of Tiananmen through the eyes of a number of people. I liked seeing how students from Beijing Normal University talked to the police compared to those from Southern University compared to those from the Law College. It gave the book a dimension that I’d never thought of as being present during the Tiananmen Square protests—conflict not just between students and the government, but between students and other students.
Unfortunately, the student conflict occupied too hundred many pages (sorry). As much as I enjoyed getting to know the large cast, I was less than thrilled to read about them arguing over who would control the radio station on which day for the sixth time. I get that the confusion, chaos and constant bickering between student protesters is an overlooked dynamic in the history of the Tiananmen Square protests, but reading the book, I got so tired of hearing about it, that I wanted to fast-forward through the hundred-odd argument scenes. It’s the authors job to relate important themes to me without making me want to snooze. Ma Jian may have forgotten that.
Speaking of the author forgetting things, I wouldn’t have minded seeing chapters in this 600 page book. It’s a bit fatiguing to slog through that much content without easily identifiable stopping points.
But like I said at the start of this review, four stars. The uniquely good parts of this book combined with its novelty for me were so overwhelming that I urge anyone who reads this review (hello, Divia) to check out the book and ignore my whining. I enjoyed it.
1. This book took a lot of time to read and I want to convince myself that it was worth it and I don’t just lack the willpower to stop doing things I don’t like.
2. I don’t know much about Chinese politics or the 1994 Tiananmen Square Massacre and this was my first real dive into it
3. The book was good
I think a combination of reasons 2 and 3 best explain why I liked the book. Beijing Coma really was a good book, but it had serious shortcomings and I think reason 2 covered them up for me and let me give the book a good rating.
Starting with the good, the author, Ma Jian, did an excellent job of developing a large cast of characters well enough that I could keep them distinct and develop feelings for the thirty odd main ones over the course of 700 pages. In retrospect, I think that was really important. Seeing one person’s interaction with the protests in Tiananmen Square would’ve been interesting (because the protagonist is cool), but it would’ve taken away something from the book which, despite following a protagonist, really attempted to tell the story of Tiananmen through the eyes of a number of people. I liked seeing how students from Beijing Normal University talked to the police compared to those from Southern University compared to those from the Law College. It gave the book a dimension that I’d never thought of as being present during the Tiananmen Square protests—conflict not just between students and the government, but between students and other students.
Unfortunately, the student conflict occupied too hundred many pages (sorry). As much as I enjoyed getting to know the large cast, I was less than thrilled to read about them arguing over who would control the radio station on which day for the sixth time. I get that the confusion, chaos and constant bickering between student protesters is an overlooked dynamic in the history of the Tiananmen Square protests, but reading the book, I got so tired of hearing about it, that I wanted to fast-forward through the hundred-odd argument scenes. It’s the authors job to relate important themes to me without making me want to snooze. Ma Jian may have forgotten that.
Speaking of the author forgetting things, I wouldn’t have minded seeing chapters in this 600 page book. It’s a bit fatiguing to slog through that much content without easily identifiable stopping points.
But like I said at the start of this review, four stars. The uniquely good parts of this book combined with its novelty for me were so overwhelming that I urge anyone who reads this review (hello, Divia) to check out the book and ignore my whining. I enjoyed it.
Parliament of Whores: A Lone Humorist Attempts to Explain the Entire U.S. Government by P. J. O'Rourke
3.0
Somehow PJ O'Rourke was humorous enough to ingratiate himself to me without me realizing I was giggling alongside libertarian jokes. By the time I realized I was falling into Ron Paul swamp, it was too late. I'd been transmogrified into Ludwig von Mises--bad mustache, crappy philosophy and all.
Well temporarily. After shaking off my giggles I realized I still didn't like libertarianism very much, but I did appreciate the author's libertarian message, which was as follows:
Collectively we (normal people) make pretty stupid decisions. We break stuff, lie, fool ourselves, and then sue people for self-esteem. Worse, we mob together when we do that. When we vote and make laws, that doesn't stop.
True enough, but I still believe we should all have some sort of healthcare and minimum wage, even if that makes me part of the self-interested mob.
Well temporarily. After shaking off my giggles I realized I still didn't like libertarianism very much, but I did appreciate the author's libertarian message, which was as follows:
Collectively we (normal people) make pretty stupid decisions. We break stuff, lie, fool ourselves, and then sue people for self-esteem. Worse, we mob together when we do that. When we vote and make laws, that doesn't stop.
True enough, but I still believe we should all have some sort of healthcare and minimum wage, even if that makes me part of the self-interested mob.
How Music Got Free: The End of an Industry, the Turn of the Century, and the Patient Zero of Piracy by Stephen Richard Witt
5.0
For the last 10,000 people still flying the audio jolly roger in the age of Spotify, this book will be utterly fascinating. For everyone else, it will be plain fascinating.
How Music Got Free is the story of the near-aborted birth of the mp3 file format, the monopolistic dominance of major music labels in the '80s and '90s, and the emergence of piracy, which made the mp3 format holy and the godly music labels considerably less holy. Like every good story , it's told as a tale of people--a frustrated group of perfectionist German audio engineers , a factory floor worker who stole tens of thousands of CDs, a power-hungry music label titan, plus a huge coterie of other musically inclined folks.
The book explains the history of a phenomenon--music piracy--which nearly everyone has participated in at some time or another, but few have likely thought hard about it. At its best points, the story touches on the motivations of key characters who started the fire of piracy; at its worst point, it tells the story in unforgettable entertaining passion.
Plus, since the author reveals that he's pirated a thing or two in his day, you (not me) might decide that it's okay to grab this book for free somewhere. And what's better than free knowledge about free stuff?
How Music Got Free is the story of the near-aborted birth of the mp3 file format, the monopolistic dominance of major music labels in the '80s and '90s, and the emergence of piracy, which made the mp3 format holy and the godly music labels considerably less holy. Like every good story , it's told as a tale of people--a frustrated group of perfectionist German audio engineers , a factory floor worker who stole tens of thousands of CDs, a power-hungry music label titan, plus a huge coterie of other musically inclined folks.
The book explains the history of a phenomenon--music piracy--which nearly everyone has participated in at some time or another, but few have likely thought hard about it. At its best points, the story touches on the motivations of key characters who started the fire of piracy; at its worst point, it tells the story in unforgettable entertaining passion.
Plus, since the author reveals that he's pirated a thing or two in his day, you (not me) might decide that it's okay to grab this book for free somewhere. And what's better than free knowledge about free stuff?
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
3.0
Maybe I'd have liked this book more if I'd grown up fifty years earlier and seen the counterculture movement it tries to critique. I didn't, though, so I'll give this a three star rating. I liked reading about drugs and fast cars and running away from cops, but I'm not sure what I was supposed to take away from this. Was the utter lack of direction in the book supposed to satirize the aimlessness of counterculture? Unsure and uninterested. Five years later, when I think about this book, I'll remember the twisted/melty/sort-of-cool-but-confusing illustration on the cover of the book, and that'll accurately and wholly represent my thoughts on the book as a whole.
Nutshell by Ian McEwan
4.0
When I watch mystery movies, I usually wait until the end for my big moment of gratification--the payoff. When I read books, I usually get the payoff at the end of a chapter in the form of a narrative thread tying itself off. In an especially well-written book, I might get a few of those payoffs in a chapter.
is a special book for me because I felt like nearly every paragraph had a gratification payoff. That's something I've never encountered before. Ian McEwan has such an incredible mastery of writing in the English language that he's able to twist nearly any idea into a delightful wordplay pretzel. Reading Nutshell was like playing a game of ping pong where you and your opponent keep volleying and volleying, the ball never coming close to the ground or net. The sentences just keep flowing so cleanly, and each time you get ready for McEwan to drop the ball, he sends it sailing cleanly over the net, and your mind catches it with a crisp backhand return, rewarding you with a little exciting thrill.
Also the premise and plot and all that are real nice. Do read.
Also the premise and plot and all that are real nice. Do read.