kylegarvey's reviews
347 reviews

The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber, David Wengrow

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challenging informative slow-paced

3.0

 
The book Dawn of Everything is to me a stirring but difficult dispatch. The authors survey their field and find it's missing some key truths about human civilization, early history, and when/how social dysfunctions started. And after some impressive reasoning, plus dismantling some myths about how anthropology's reputed to be, they can prove our modern society is locked into weirdness with 'inequality' that makes us persist in arrangements demonstrably bad for us. 
 
There's just no good reason why we are in the state we are in. I'm sure you're well aware. Capitalism, destructive racist and oppressive imperial cruelty, carceral surveillance, jobs with many debts and few rewards, dim nobodies all, etc., etc. I hesitate of course to make any grand pronouncements with academic credence I don't have, but Graeber's and Wengrow's theses make some pretty wholesome food for thought. 
 
One of the critical responses I found most interesting to Dawn of Everything is from historian Daniel Immerwahr, who wrote in The Nation that he found the book "less a biography of the species than a scrapbook, filled with accounts of different societies doing different things," but he zeroes in anyway on one "fundamental, electrifying insight… [that we used to be able to] dismiss long-ago peoples as corks floating on the waves of prehistory. Instead, it treats them as reflective political thinkers from whom we might learn something" https://www.thenation.com/article/society/graeber-wengrow-dawn-of-everything/ 
 
I like all that, respect that, as you know I would; but that's probably not so much for the petty, weird, laughable, low reasons that might be easiest to latch onto but for more solid, interesting reasons by far. The whole thing is epic, academic prose, flush with studious examples, and I'm approaching with limp pseudo-existentialist civilian stuff. I'm an amateur, huh? and that's mostly just easy compensation, anyway, for being brittle, anti-work, who/where-am-I meat sack. But when tons and tons of culture, society, history streams by right above your head, you'd probably do well to scoop up a tiny bit every now and then, maybe. 
 
I've also never read Zinn's People's History of the United States, a title it would seem pretty close to Dawn of Everything, but I imagine the two quite different. Zinn 1980 and digestible pop versus Graeber/Wengrow 2021 full keen anthropology-focused exactitude? Generally very similar 'toppling common white and America-first assumptions with novel leftist inclinations' tones between them, I guess. 
 
But besides just being earlier in subject matter -- Zinn has '1492 to present' covered, while Graeber/Wengrow mostly cover periods of what we would consider prehistory -- the tones/reputations are fairly different between them also, I assume. We're dedicated and intricate here with Graeber and Wengrow, and I don't know if Zinn always was. 
 
The ho-hum '04 doc You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train may be accidentally a remarkable look at Zinn's true historical work. I don't really know. In particular, I don't know if People's History of the United States is nowadays as essential as maybe it was at one time. https://letterboxd.com/film/howard-zinn-you-cant-be-neutral-on-a-moving-train/ 
 
But in terms of the book here, in terms of Graeber and Wengrow as authors, you can be sure I marvel a little at their studious attention to academic rigor; but you can also be sure I don't share it all. 
 
Chapter 1, 'Farewell to humanity's childhood', highlights many myths. Famously, most are supplied by Enlightnment-era thinkers Hobbes and Rousseau, filtered through contemporaries Fukuyama, Diamond, Pinker, or Harari. Among those they're commenting on is inevitability: "the best we can hope for is to adjust the size of the boot that will forever be stomping on our faces; or, perhaps, to wangle a bit more wiggle room in which some of us can temporarily duck out of its way" (29). Compelling point that is, and I can't say I haven't naïvely bought into it myself, but it doesn't really hold water. As a lot don't, evidently. 
 
Much of the book actually is devoted to stiffly tsk-tsking incorrect reactions/angles. Somewhat entertaining, very educational, but gradually a little uncomfortable, tonally, for the reader? 
 
Chapter 2, 'Wicked liberty', delves more deeply into one historical example that seems to hold a lot more water, an Indigenous critique they return to again and again: the Wendat leader Kondiaronk, who slayed oratorically the Europeans observing his society, and in turn he theirs. He found France saddled with 'mine' and 'thine' distractions, money the root of all its evil, its society built on noble, merchant, priest absurdity and anti-reason. 
 
But as we'll see, further and sadder, this kind of critique was warped when not outright dismissed: "our standard historical meta-narrative about the ambivalent progress of human civilization, where freedoms are lost as societies grow bigger and more complex – was invented largely for the purpose of neutralizing the threat of indigenous critique" write Graeber and Wengrow (68). 
 
And I guess for almost any maligned minority in the kind of warped, unkind, capitalist world we live in at present, life right now might seem a little unfair, not as advantageous as it could be. Clumsily projecting the present back on the past is a severe mistake this book sees in history, probably one of hundreds, most of which I am probably guilty of spreading myself. But nevertheless that's a fair premise, no? To me sure, but to many others maybe not. I don't know, though. I am not an eloquent scientist who wrote a book, just a dummy who read one. 
 
Later, Chapter 5, 'Many seasons ago', focuses on one area of Turtle Island in particular. "California, then, is an ecological puzzle. Most of its indigenous inhabitants appear to have prided themselves on their hard work, clear-sighted practicality and prudence in monetary affairs – quite unlike the wild and excessive self-image of Northwest Coast chiefs, who liked to boast that they ‘didn’t care about anything’ – but as it turns out, the Californians were the ones basing their entire regional economy on apparently irrational choices" (334). So from very similar environments can come very different societies; that's a basic, simplistic read, and the authors pull from it a lot of sophisticated conclusions I can't begin to summarize, but for this part at least the writing is fine. 
 
Some of the chapters that follow are worse than others. The sixth, "Gardens of Adonis: The revolution that never happened: how Neolithic peoples avoided agriculture", is a bit lower I think than the ninth, "Hiding in plain sight: The indigenous origins of social housing and democracy in the Americas". Mostly because I don't understand why we're back in Eurasia when it seems like there is a purer, more coherent example in the New World. But oh well. 
 
Dawn of Everything was supposed to be the first of four. But in 2021 -- after the book was written, finalized, but before it could even be published -- Graeber suddenly died. He and Wengrow might have been the best of researchers, omnivorous geniuses, or what have you. 
 
Still, though, I'd say the book overall is not written in a great style, sadly enough. For example, most fecund stuff is thrown off in asides: ancient Athens fed a lot on Black Sea mega-cities? An obscure firsthand source directly validates Indigenous politics, in Motolinía's Historia? They return again and again to Kondiaronk, which is fine; but hopping right away from him to ancient South America to ancient Egypt can seem a little jarring. That's all what they're going for, though, no? 
 
I hesitate to try much more -- and see myself the amateur who wades in, splashes around clumsily, in a pool that's been filled quite carefully, precisely, by experts who came before -- but I'll hazard a guess that volumes two, three, four would have answered many of my questions. They might have been great, rigorous, amazingly voluminous; but that's a guess I could be naïve and clumsy about too, that this whole book here might warn against? Perhaps. One never knows, no? Tragically missed opportunity or just an opening that hasn't been filled yet? 
The Salt Eaters by Toni Cade Bambara

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challenging dark mysterious tense slow-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

1.0

Harm reduction here, in our unusual Black feminist perspective? I dig that perspective in general, but I'm afraid I don't dig this book in particular. Heavy, jarring, confusing is fine enough; but why add the spiritualism? It cracks everything.
Fuzz: When Nature Breaks the Law by Mary Roach

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informative medium-paced

2.0

Not written as well as Orlean's On Animals. 
Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest by Suzanne Simard

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challenging hopeful informative inspiring medium-paced

3.0

 Simard's new book is a fine one, for a new sort of pre-apocalypse environmentalist truth. Not perfectly balanced (the science is heavy, not really numerical or intricate but just go-back-and-retest-yada-yada-yada) but I think still pretty valuable, in allowing average readers into the beauty of trees. Happens here to be Canadian arborism. We find out "the forest is wired for wisdom, sentience, and healing. This is not a book about how we can save the trees. This is a book about how the trees might save us" (21). If we let them (I mean, before killing/raping all). 
 
Finding the Mother Tree is also a better counterpoint to Deller's 2012 film Future Weather in my opinion. "Was this all luck? I think the trees had been telling me something all along. I’d had a hunch [they] were suffering because their bare roots couldn’t connect with the soil. Now I knew they lacked mycorrhizal fungi, whose hyphae would not only have extracted nutrients from the forest floor but also connected the seedlings to the Mother Trees" (442). Fungi's key and 'mother trees' the big lock? Somewhat? 
 
Of course the book has to swing from conceptual stuff to little biography in a broad sense sometimes too: "I often feared I’d been hired into the men’s club as a token of changing times, and my goose would be cooked if I came up with a half-baked idea about how mushrooms or pink or yellow quilts of fungus on roots affected seedling growth" (47). 
 
(I don't begrudge Simard very much of it. Except the few easy objectifications: "Then I made it a promise. A promise to learn how trees sense and signal other plants, insects, and fungi. To get the word out" (162). Toward the middle this came up, though! Thankfully.) 
 
Some of the intricate science in this book can be a little daunting to my untrained eyes, and the personal memoir parts (though rich) are mostly delivered in eye-rolly clichés, I guess. And "The experiment should have been straightforward. Holy cats, was I in for a surprise" (154): yeah? 'Holy cats'? Must be a Canadian thing. 
 
Or when she reflects that she'd probably "been too agreeable when a forester had said to me, 'I want to cut these Mother Fucking Trees down because they’re going to blow over anyway, and we might as well make money.' I was still afraid to stand strong with my convictions, fight tooth and nail. But isn’t this what my trees were showing me too? That health depends on the ability to connect and communicate" (407). Sure. But also, how many metaphors can there be for a fungal network (orchestra, computer, internet, road, etc.?). Haha, sorry. 
 
I think Simard is vividly painful about, spoiler alert, the death of her brother Kelly, like when she writes "Does suffering strengthen the relationships that hold us together? I loved the generous rhythm of the way the land and the forest and the rivers came together to refresh the winds at the close of each day. Helped settle us all down for the night. Air purified by the ancient forests hovered" (105). She applies all the science to her own personal struggles: better in my opinion than those things alone. "There should be a special word for the type of mourning you know is to come" (286). Say it, sister. 
 
But her sudden separation from her husband she's not so vivid about. Really just like "as my research program built on success after success toward deciphering the language and intelligence of the forest, my marriage did the opposite, the lines of communication starting to fray and snap" (336) or later "The thirty-year battle over the entrenched dogma that competition was the only interplant interaction that mattered in forests was getting the better of me today" (403). Really?

Some even weaker points then, plainly weak: "The eagle suddenly lifted, caught an updraft, and vanished past the peaks. There is no moment too small in the world. Nothing should be lost. Everything has a purpose, and everything is in need of care. This is my creed. Let us embrace it. We can watch it rise. Just like that, at any time—all the time—wealth and grace will soar" (468). Ok. 
 
But we can recover very soon from those weaker points, like when Simard writes that we need to "further develop an emergent philosophy: complexity science. Based on embracing collaboration in addition to competition—indeed, working with all of the multifarious interactions that make up the forest—complexity science can transform forestry practices into what is adaptive and holistic and away from what has been overly authoritarian and simplistic" (471). That's it, crunching the science in a good way, right where I need it. 
 
And the conclusion's a nicely simple one too: "Making this transformation requires that humans reconnect with nature—the forests, the prairie, the oceans—instead of treating everything and everyone as objects for exploitation. It means expanding our modern ways, our epistemology and scientific methodologies, so that they complement, build on, and align with Aboriginal roots. [instead of] Mowing down the forests and harvesting the waters to fulfill our wildest dreams of material wealth just because we can" (456). 
On Animals by Susan Orlean

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adventurous funny informative lighthearted fast-paced

3.0

 On Animals is a collection of frisky but sweet little nonfiction pieces, all about a variety of animal subjects, from the sure and wise pen of Orlean. I appreciate when her foreword mentions trying to avoid easy anthropomorphizing, to ideally get at the animal itself and not necessarily the people handling or admiring or whatnot, which is a common downfall of this kind of writing. 
 
Animals as a subject are usually stickily caught between pet and worker, fur and meat, cute and authentic, etc. This book also varies, I guess, between the esoteric and standoffish (taxidermist competition, in the vein of DFW's porn awards or maybe the film Spellbound) vs warm and inviting (pigeon racing). So many easy binary contradictions! Such simple promise! 
 
It confused me a little when the human subject of her oxen essay was twice clearly referred to as a "slave" until the '50s revolution -- a little ahistorical, that, no? -- but maybe I misread or have it wrong. Autobiography is rare for Orlean here, although the donkey essay has a bit. She's pretty nice at capturing the scruffy charm anyway. Nonfiction's such an interesting marvel. 
The Power of Film by Howard Suber

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informative fast-paced

4.0

More than 8,000 pages of notes were combed through and distilled into this book. In the end, maybe 275 entries total, in an alphabetical collection, quickly hint at all the important elements of cinema. Almost all offer crisp little applications -- like Persona, Television versus film, Chaos, etc., etc. -- that belie the simple formulae that probably originated them. 
 
College homework, right? And impressive at least, if they were just your usual bites of wisdom about classic film, in the pretentiously 'fun' (yet actually very dry) way I think academic cinema criticism is usually written. But Suber's analysis is surprisingly well expressed, balanced between heavy and light in a nice way, and not dry at all. 
 
Is 'not dry' a left-handed compliment? In general yes, but in this case I wouldn't say so. What we have here is readable and provocative in equal measure, from an author with decades of experience and tons of very intriguing and welcome analysis. Very simple but usually not simplistic. Much more than impressive. 
 
Each entry (the longest a few pages, most a few paragraphs) starts with kind of a rough definition of the concept at hand. Then, Suber applies it to a few films, proving (in a fine, few-words way) the essential quality they might express. Some basic, obvious, 'well, duh', but a lot novel and unusual and interesting. 
 
Two elements that explain all the titles he's chosen (usual suspects all) are "Memorable" and "Popular", but I think everything applies equally well to Independent and international films of less memorability and popularity. Rules are practically nonexistent here, and exceptions are many. The films under discussion aren't necessarily objectively good, more just principled reference points (maybe 75 of them). 
 
I think some are a little vague or ill-defined -- like McGuffins, Community versus Society, Paradox, etc., etc. -- but those are understandable flaws in a huge book with hundreds of entries. Some go deep into the script (Aristolatry), while others stay shallowly in the outcomes (Anipals). A lot of them aren't strictly cinematic -- like Armor, Weapons, Tools, Aptitudes & attitudes, etc., etc. -- but just little points about life.
'Salem's Lot by Stephen King

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adventurous dark mysterious fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

2.0

Very admirable in one sense (he sold it! Good for him) but also very regrettable (this is weak, so weak, so stereotypical, commercially scary, typical Stephen King material, so predictable, I feel like I could write every other page after reading the page before). But that's just the thing: I didn't/don't and he did. Well then. It's a lot (as in 'many', 'much',  'numerous'; like, I can't even!), Salem's, huh, huh. 
 
A shortening of "Jerusalem", though, so you got to put a doggone apostrophe at the front to really be correct. 
 
King is usually quite nice sometimes, but he insists upon himself. Like, practical plot is all well and good. He knows human behavior, how people act, things he wants to happen. But deciding how to mount tension, describing feelings, what we should know as readers that are just abstract, unreal, these aren't so simple or extraordinarily well done. They're kind of laughable really sometimes. I realize that's a tenuous distinction, but I think he should be a fine enough writer to make everything smooth. 
 
Genre fiction of about 50 years back might have had a whole different headspace than mine, I know, but I think manipulating events for suspense around a horrific theme is something everybody knows, deep in their heart of hearts. Why King can't do it exactly how I would is a horror for another day, I guess. 
Camera Man: Buster Keaton, the Dawn of Cinema, and the Invention of the Twentieth Century by Dana Stevens

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informative reflective medium-paced

4.0

Camera Man: Buster Keaton, The Dawn of Cinema, and the Invention of the 20th Century isn't a traditional biography. Opportunity for Stevens to tie together some essays she had written; to connect her central hero, sometimes successfully and sometimes less, to his time period, environment, contemporaries, etc. All a charming enough result. 

Stevens writes often that she doesn't want her book to become just a simple list. With Keaton it's a no-brainer, dozens and dozens of films. Amazing silent comedian, hands-down America's best. I have no such published loft, though, so a list might be all I make…

I love 1924 Sherlock Jr and 1928 Cameraman, really respect 1926 General and 1920 One Week, like ok 1921 Play House and 1925 Seven Chances and 1928 Steamboat Bill Jr, and I have a soft spot for the ignominious talkie he did later in his career, 1933 What! No Beer?, and the very well regarded spot he did in Wilder's 1950 Sunset Boulevard. And I could go on and on; but it would get very boring very quickly (I trust it isn't yet), depending on how much familiarity you have already. 

(By the way, I don't care for 1920 Scarecrow or 1921 High Sign or 1924 Navigator. And I would pass on 1925 Go West and 1926 Battling Buster and 1929 Spite Marriage and, into talkies, 1931 Sidewalks of NY and 1940 Pardon My Berth Marks. But who needs a Negative Nancy to try to tell them what _not_ to see?)

Seen. Seen. Seen. Zero titles? A few? Dozens? All of them? What does it really matter? In my opinion, go for One Week, then Play House, then Cops, then I don't know, see whatever, you do you, etc.

Still, so much I haven't "seen" seen _seen_ yet… 1921 Goat and 1923 Our Hospitality, 1921 Haunted House and 1920 Neighbors, 1920 Convict 13 and 1921 Boat. 1927 College and 1923 Love Nest and 1920 My Wife's Relations, etc., etc. Let alone the later splashes Limelight and Film. Dude had some product. 

That's part of the fun of an accomplished man like this, though (apart from the actual accomplishments of course! lol): to always know there's a few more titles to be seen. All you can know "about" anybody really, I suppose.

Stevens' is a pretty deep investigation, for sure. Keaton's early vaudeville days, and the lifelong father-son "abuse" it may have spurred via the violent angles, is explored early on (ushering in, maybe in parallel, a lot of child welfare organizations that came in the wake of sparks like the Gerry Society?). Later, as he's beginning a Hollywood career, Keaton is caught at the forefront of a studio system making itself. Often unfortunately without creative women (à la Mabel Normand). 

Always interesting. of course, when Keaton's story rides alongside other ones like Normand's: fellow silent film stars Roscoe Arbuckle (early on) and Charlie Chaplin (all throughout really, but in a deep way later). Even fellow MGM workhorse F. Scott Fitzgerald. Famous but a workhorse; contemporary with Keaton, and they may have crossed paths, but it can't be proven definitively. 

There's some try-hard connections here of course, the stereotypical big and grand moments professing to connect Buster Keaton to any of a variety of other topics. During a difficult spot later when he'd become an alcoholic, he could've benefited from the just-begun AA. But he didn't, and that's a historical tragedy. He could've done something about the racism of his time instead of indulging in it himself, but (as we see in a chapter about 'the darkie shuffle') he did not. 

A small moment early on ("Pancakes at Child's") is quite touching, as is a later one (in a tiny MGM promo, Keaton provided some asparagus silliness -- unnecessary, considering how quick and shallow the promo was supposed to be; but for a tiny look at the sublime, it can be a perfect window into the mind of an interesting man). Steven's Camera Man breathes quite nicely around moments like that; not perfect, rarely perfect, but just building up the big necessities and letting them exist quietly. Not silently but quietly. Who needs silence when there's just quiet?
Bright Green Future: How Everyday Heroes Are Re-Imagining the Way We Feed, Power, and Build Our World by Trevor Decker Cohen, Gregory Schwartz

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informative inspiring lighthearted reflective fast-paced

4.0

"An antidote to despair" says the above-the-title blurb on Bright Green Future's front cover, and while I haven't read the review that's quoted from, the sentiment of it I think fits this book quite well. Much of my mind around climate change is, if not outright despair, then just powerlessness, hopelessness, frustration. Bright Green Future's a very good counter-balance there. Less than 200 pages but always very crisp and well-expressed. 

I like how we spread the info out in general. Schwartz and Cohen are fine researchers and present a really nice snapshot of 'where we're at right now'. It's generally in four parts -- "seeds of a new regenerative economy across four categories that account for essentially all the world's carbon emissions: energy, industry, cities, and farms" (7) -- but also we have little supplemental questions at the end of each chapter, our "keep exploring" book club-type suggestions. It all works, sketches everything out in a nice way. 

ENERGY can be symbiotic. We can easily fit into natural cycles already happening instead of standing outside and hoping to exploit and extract. INDUSTRY -- particularly when we profile good places like Mango & Ronin8 -- can involve "sites not for waste, but for value creation" (47). The CITIES section offers an especially interesting perspective, explaining America's rampant woes with an 'urban Ponzi scheme' situation, designed to look successful but not really succeed. And finally FARMS, where we can "manage energy instead of production" (134), can lay out a very sensible, achievable-seeming route to success. The name of the game for everyone can be Local!

Bright Green Future briefly tells us about some promising ventures. And nothing's actually probably going to be a real apocalypse, like a Don't Look Up comet disaster, luckily (or unluckily?): it'll be discomfort, strife, weirdness, weirder and weirder, worse and worse, less and less manageable. Gradually! So basically I'm like 'Sure, yeah, thanks, sounds good' -- in answer to this book, and to tons of other books -- but no one's necessarily asking me anything, just doing things, getting started in the right direction. I appreciate that! Here as always. 

Just modesty for a mindscape can help, above all. Rather than fixating on top-down solutions, think bottom-up, local, achievable. Schwartz and Cohen conclude their brief book with "Since the beginning of our time on earth, we've come together to share food, stories, and visions around a fire" (167). Start there -- ok, but I'm not particularly social myself much -- and an accomplishment could be in reach. Energy, industry, cities, and farms are good ways to divvy the ends up, but (as cliché as it can seem) the beginning has to start in every individual. 
Slade House by David Mitchell

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adventurous funny lighthearted mysterious tense fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? No
  • Loveable characters? No
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? No

2.0

Slade House is the seventh novel by David Mitchell, an author I quite like but haven't yet read much from. It's a book started as a Twitter story (though how much of that was Mitchell himself and how much was his publisher's press dept, either creatively or advertorially, I just don't know), but I kind of wish it had stayed that way for more of its run. In balancing swift intrigue with flat exposition, it seems to me heavy genre mysteries would do well to lean a little toward the funner part. Maybe I just don't have the experience, haven't read enough of this type; and btw, don't listen to sneering elitists like me who supposedly look down their noses at low 'genre' in favor of high 'literary', we don't know much. Supposedly.

And also btw (by another way?), the Twitter thing I started was barely a novel at all, more just a clashing series of stupidities. So Mitchell has me beat pretty squarely already! Personally. Supposedly.

Part 1, before all the exposition's laid out, offers some fun intrigue. The Right Sort it's called. Nathan Bishop is our initial hero, a precocious lad. In the second part, Shining Armor, we get a little fun but mostly some bland details, like when our villains show up, "the man—Jonah—looks at his sister—Norah—with fond smugness. 'For fifty-four years, our souls have wandered that big wide world out there, possessing whatever bodies we want, living whatever lives we wish, while our fellow birth-Victorians are all dead or dying out. We live on. The operandi works.' / 'The operandi works provided our birth-bodies remain here in the lacuna, freeze-dried against world-time, anchoring our souls in life. The operandi works provided we recharge the lacuna every nine years by luring a gullible Engifted into a suitable orison. The operandi works provided our guests can be duped, banjaxed and drawn into the lacuna. Too many provideds, Jonah'" (99).

Sorry if that spoils anything, but I thought i'd quote it, since that just lays everything out in a dry way -- and I mean everything.

Oink Oink, the third part, has a preamble with some paranormal-interested kids investigating the previous Kidnappings, but then their investigations take them to a college party. Or what they think is a college party. You Dark Horse You, the penultimate part, has a lot of promising stuff about death and mortality, but it doesn't cohere into much plot-wise. The last part, Astronauts, concludes nicely with some sociology: "from feudal lords to slave traders to oligarchs to neocons to predators like you. All of you strangle your consciences, and ethically you strike yourselves dumb" (263). It's a decent arrival, but not so skilled of a departure or flight I don't think.
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