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rbruehlman's reviews
128 reviews
A Cure for Darkness: The Story of Depression and How We Treat It by Alex Riley
4.0
Engagingly written, taking care to discuss the history, epidemiology, and potential treatments in a human way. While a book on this topic could easily be impenetrably academic and dull, this book is not; it is informative and well-researched, yet accessible and easy to read. The book particularly shines in regards to discussing the history of depression and society's various interpretations of what it was caused by and how to treat it. As someone more well-versed in the psychopharmacology of depression, learning about its history over the years was new for me.
The book's strength was definitely in the history of depression. It explores (among other things) early conceptualizations of depression and mental illness and the evolution of psychiatry in Europe, taking particular care to explore the rich, interconnected academic world of European psychiatry and how different major figures (Kraepelin, Freud, Aaron Beck, etc.) learned from and influenced one another. I also particularly enjoyed the discussion of depression in other cultures, particularly in Africa; I've definitely read research to indicate depression is _less_ common in developing countries, but the author makes it clear some of this is just due to poor cultural translations--depression does exist, but you have to know how to ask about it.
I do wish he had explored the rising rates of depression in the Western World more, but can't win 'em all.
I gave this book four stars, however, because I felt the book was more comprehensive in _history_, rather than _treatment_, which is why I picked the book up. Much time was spent discussing, say, Freud's personal life, than new non-SSRI upcoming treatments. While I think overall the coverage of treatment options was good, some aspects of the field that I would consider important weren't mentioned at all, or got just a drive-by mention. For instance, the research on SSRIs is fairly discouraging, with efficacy not much better than placebo effect; while this was mentioned, this wasn't particularly emphasized, and instead SSRIs were discussed very positively (I suspect this might be because sertraline was so effective for the author). The author is clearly very enamored with ECT and spends a good deal of time discussing it, yet, surprisingly, he doesn't even mention transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS). The biology of ketamine was not discussed at all, and genetic testing for SSRI metabolization (or lack thereof) wasn't mentioned either. All of it seemed like kind of odd omissions, given that treatment-resistant depression is discussed so much. I suppose I felt like the history section was very well-written, but the treatment section was rushed somehow?
I'd also have liked to have seen more discussion about the different types of depression. Seasonal Affective Disorder and dysthymia are not mentioned at all. Depression in the context of schizoaffective disorder and bipolar disorder isn't really explored either. While unipolar disorder is distinctly different from both of those disorders, it's also at the same time related (indeed, there is a nascent theory that unipolar depression is another form of bipolar disorder).
All in all, a well-written book, though.
The book's strength was definitely in the history of depression. It explores (among other things) early conceptualizations of depression and mental illness and the evolution of psychiatry in Europe, taking particular care to explore the rich, interconnected academic world of European psychiatry and how different major figures (Kraepelin, Freud, Aaron Beck, etc.) learned from and influenced one another. I also particularly enjoyed the discussion of depression in other cultures, particularly in Africa; I've definitely read research to indicate depression is _less_ common in developing countries, but the author makes it clear some of this is just due to poor cultural translations--depression does exist, but you have to know how to ask about it.
I do wish he had explored the rising rates of depression in the Western World more, but can't win 'em all.
I gave this book four stars, however, because I felt the book was more comprehensive in _history_, rather than _treatment_, which is why I picked the book up. Much time was spent discussing, say, Freud's personal life, than new non-SSRI upcoming treatments. While I think overall the coverage of treatment options was good, some aspects of the field that I would consider important weren't mentioned at all, or got just a drive-by mention. For instance, the research on SSRIs is fairly discouraging, with efficacy not much better than placebo effect; while this was mentioned, this wasn't particularly emphasized, and instead SSRIs were discussed very positively (I suspect this might be because sertraline was so effective for the author). The author is clearly very enamored with ECT and spends a good deal of time discussing it, yet, surprisingly, he doesn't even mention transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS). The biology of ketamine was not discussed at all, and genetic testing for SSRI metabolization (or lack thereof) wasn't mentioned either. All of it seemed like kind of odd omissions, given that treatment-resistant depression is discussed so much. I suppose I felt like the history section was very well-written, but the treatment section was rushed somehow?
I'd also have liked to have seen more discussion about the different types of depression. Seasonal Affective Disorder and dysthymia are not mentioned at all. Depression in the context of schizoaffective disorder and bipolar disorder isn't really explored either. While unipolar disorder is distinctly different from both of those disorders, it's also at the same time related (indeed, there is a nascent theory that unipolar depression is another form of bipolar disorder).
All in all, a well-written book, though.
Slenderman: Online Obsession, Mental Illness, and the Violent Crime of Two Midwestern Girls by Kathleen Hale
3.0
Some people watch guilty trash TV; this was my reading version thereof.
If you're curious about the details around the Slenderman case, this book will do the trick well enough; it explores the prodromal phases of Morgan's schizophrenia, the tumultuous childhood of Anissa, their complicated friendship with Bella, and the ensuing aftermath. The book openly acknowledges that many people involved in the case (Bella, Anissa, teachers, police, etc.) refused to speak with the author, so much of the book centers on Morgan, whose family was the only one open to interviewing.
However, that's not really the book's failing; it's that the book feels like a play-by-play of events, with little analysis or meaningful prose. The writing isn't bad, per se, but it feels somewhat impoverished and overly simplistic. Storytelling is a bit jerky and at times disjointed, especially early in the book. The author clearly wanted to get certain points across, but often lacked smooth transitions, making certain parts of the book feel like long, disconnected bullet points, just without the bullets. The book doesn't explore childhood schizophrenia or shared delusional disorder especially, despite both diagnoses impacting Morgan and Anissa significantly. It's literally just a straight retelling of events--you won't learn much of anything about the underlying disorders, the history of Slenderman himself, the criminal system, or things like that. There is a lot more this book could have explored, but didn't.
If you're curious about the details around the Slenderman case, this book will do the trick well enough; it explores the prodromal phases of Morgan's schizophrenia, the tumultuous childhood of Anissa, their complicated friendship with Bella, and the ensuing aftermath. The book openly acknowledges that many people involved in the case (Bella, Anissa, teachers, police, etc.) refused to speak with the author, so much of the book centers on Morgan, whose family was the only one open to interviewing.
However, that's not really the book's failing; it's that the book feels like a play-by-play of events, with little analysis or meaningful prose. The writing isn't bad, per se, but it feels somewhat impoverished and overly simplistic. Storytelling is a bit jerky and at times disjointed, especially early in the book. The author clearly wanted to get certain points across, but often lacked smooth transitions, making certain parts of the book feel like long, disconnected bullet points, just without the bullets. The book doesn't explore childhood schizophrenia or shared delusional disorder especially, despite both diagnoses impacting Morgan and Anissa significantly. It's literally just a straight retelling of events--you won't learn much of anything about the underlying disorders, the history of Slenderman himself, the criminal system, or things like that. There is a lot more this book could have explored, but didn't.
Gang Leader for a Day: A Rogue Sociologist Takes to the Streets by Sudhir Venkatesh
5.0
This was an interesting, thought-provoking read. Sudhir Venkatesh, a first-year sociology graduate student, tries to conduct traditional sociology research (a survey) at the Robert Taylor projects and is understandably laughed out the door by skeptical gang members. When they tell him he will never learn about being black and poor through a silly survey, Sudhir takes this to heart, and tries to learn about the Robert Taylor complex by being part of their community. J.T., a charismatic rising gang leader, takes a shine to him and slowly integrates Sudhir into the community.
This results in a thoughtful, six-year saga detailing Sudhir's deepening relationship with J.T., the symbiotic relationship between the building tenants and the gang, the various politically astute individuals who "run" the projects, the varied Robert Taylor denizens and their struggles, and the difficulty balancing between being an outsider who knows little, but causes little harm, and a foreign insider who knows much, but can cause harm with that knowledge, inadvertently. As much as Sudhir wants to be an impassive observer, truly learning about the community means being a part of it--thereby definitionally not impassive. Sudhir's well-intentioned actions have consequences.
This is not a book about facts or statistics, or a musing on how to help the poor. This is a story, with real people, about a poorly-understood, oft-feared community. Some reviewers call Sudhir naive; perhaps, yes, but, for the most part, he also abstains from judgment or pity, enabling readers to understand and draw conclusions about the people he depicts on their own.
My favorite aspect of the book, by far, was how well Sudhir humanized the complex people who lived in the projects. It would be easy in a more academic book to look at gangs as pure criminals deserving of punishment, and--make no mistake--the people featured in the book are indeed often criminals. However, they are not sociopaths; most are just trying to survive in a broken dog-eat-dog system, and community is important to them. While the factors that encourage gang membership among young people is never discussed explicitly, it's not hard to see why young men join gangs in the world Sudhir depicts. There is an order to the mayhem of Robert Taylor, and it feels reasonable and relatable in an odd way. Many of the people featured are easy to relate with and grow fond of. You cannot understand or help a community if you do not recognize and relate to the real human beings that comprise it. Gang life, or even living in the projects, is utterly foreign to me, and reading about this same topic in an academic context would easily "other" the Robert Taylor tenants. It is impossible to "other" the tenants in the way this book was written. It is crushingly clear how and why the projects function the way they do, and why many well-intentioned policies meant to improve the lot of poor, inner-city people simply fail.
Critically, however, Sudhir takes care not to paint an overly rosy picture of tenants, either. The gang claims they help the community, and in a sense they do, but they also make it worse, a fact Sudhir wrestles with greatly. Many of the prominent individuals in the book are complex characters, likable and community-oriented in some ways, but self-serving in others. It is readily evident that while all the Robert Taylor tenants live a hard life, there is an "elite" that skims off the even less fortunate in a morally grey way. I don't think the morally suspect elite of the book are unique to the projects, though; I suspect this stratification of power among a select politically astute few is simply a reflection of "nice" society at large, although we don't like to admit it. While Sudhir comes off as being quite naive and rosy in the beginning, his opinions of powerful figures like J.T. and Ms. Bailey grow more nuanced and conflicted as time goes on.
Part of me wishes that Sudhir had included more history and statistics on gangs (e.g., how many people participate? how does Chicago's gangs compare to elsewhere?), or taken a more macro view to provide context. However, I suppose that entirely defeats the point of the book--Sudhir rejected the traditional sociology survey approach and instead chose to get to know people himself. I still have unanswered questions about gangs and will have to read another book to get them answered, but that's okay.
Critically, as well, Sudhir never weighs in on how to help the community or others like it. He deftly shows how neither government agencies nor the police are any help, and in fact are deeply corrupt. In a sense, the community thrives and betters itself in spite of the government. Still, though, life is not perfect--surviving is hard, and tenants' relationship with the Black Kings gang was clearly complicated--and Sudhir offers precisely no suggestions of what he thinks *would* make things better, even if just a little bit. In a sense, it feels like he drops in on the community, writes a book about it, and leaves the work of translating his learnings into actionable help to others. Giving the community exposure in a book is a huge start, and, to be clear, I am not expecting the author to have a silver bullet solution ... but, nonetheless, given how deeply he knows the community, I wish he had imparted at least *some* thoughts on what to do differently.
This results in a thoughtful, six-year saga detailing Sudhir's deepening relationship with J.T., the symbiotic relationship between the building tenants and the gang, the various politically astute individuals who "run" the projects, the varied Robert Taylor denizens and their struggles, and the difficulty balancing between being an outsider who knows little, but causes little harm, and a foreign insider who knows much, but can cause harm with that knowledge, inadvertently. As much as Sudhir wants to be an impassive observer, truly learning about the community means being a part of it--thereby definitionally not impassive. Sudhir's well-intentioned actions have consequences.
This is not a book about facts or statistics, or a musing on how to help the poor. This is a story, with real people, about a poorly-understood, oft-feared community. Some reviewers call Sudhir naive; perhaps, yes, but, for the most part, he also abstains from judgment or pity, enabling readers to understand and draw conclusions about the people he depicts on their own.
My favorite aspect of the book, by far, was how well Sudhir humanized the complex people who lived in the projects. It would be easy in a more academic book to look at gangs as pure criminals deserving of punishment, and--make no mistake--the people featured in the book are indeed often criminals. However, they are not sociopaths; most are just trying to survive in a broken dog-eat-dog system, and community is important to them. While the factors that encourage gang membership among young people is never discussed explicitly, it's not hard to see why young men join gangs in the world Sudhir depicts. There is an order to the mayhem of Robert Taylor, and it feels reasonable and relatable in an odd way. Many of the people featured are easy to relate with and grow fond of. You cannot understand or help a community if you do not recognize and relate to the real human beings that comprise it. Gang life, or even living in the projects, is utterly foreign to me, and reading about this same topic in an academic context would easily "other" the Robert Taylor tenants. It is impossible to "other" the tenants in the way this book was written. It is crushingly clear how and why the projects function the way they do, and why many well-intentioned policies meant to improve the lot of poor, inner-city people simply fail.
Critically, however, Sudhir takes care not to paint an overly rosy picture of tenants, either. The gang claims they help the community, and in a sense they do, but they also make it worse, a fact Sudhir wrestles with greatly. Many of the prominent individuals in the book are complex characters, likable and community-oriented in some ways, but self-serving in others. It is readily evident that while all the Robert Taylor tenants live a hard life, there is an "elite" that skims off the even less fortunate in a morally grey way. I don't think the morally suspect elite of the book are unique to the projects, though; I suspect this stratification of power among a select politically astute few is simply a reflection of "nice" society at large, although we don't like to admit it. While Sudhir comes off as being quite naive and rosy in the beginning, his opinions of powerful figures like J.T. and Ms. Bailey grow more nuanced and conflicted as time goes on.
Part of me wishes that Sudhir had included more history and statistics on gangs (e.g., how many people participate? how does Chicago's gangs compare to elsewhere?), or taken a more macro view to provide context. However, I suppose that entirely defeats the point of the book--Sudhir rejected the traditional sociology survey approach and instead chose to get to know people himself. I still have unanswered questions about gangs and will have to read another book to get them answered, but that's okay.
Critically, as well, Sudhir never weighs in on how to help the community or others like it. He deftly shows how neither government agencies nor the police are any help, and in fact are deeply corrupt. In a sense, the community thrives and betters itself in spite of the government. Still, though, life is not perfect--surviving is hard, and tenants' relationship with the Black Kings gang was clearly complicated--and Sudhir offers precisely no suggestions of what he thinks *would* make things better, even if just a little bit. In a sense, it feels like he drops in on the community, writes a book about it, and leaves the work of translating his learnings into actionable help to others. Giving the community exposure in a book is a huge start, and, to be clear, I am not expecting the author to have a silver bullet solution ... but, nonetheless, given how deeply he knows the community, I wish he had imparted at least *some* thoughts on what to do differently.
The Zen of Fish: The Story of Sushi, from Samurai to Supermarket by Trevor Corson
2.0
Reading this book was so PAINFUL! 350 pages that really could have been 35, but even 35 would probably have been pushing it.
This book tries to tell the history of sushi while also telling a (true) story about students at a sushi school in California. Usually, each chapter would start out with a scene from the sushi school, then dive into some aspect of sushi, and then resurface towards the end of the chapter to wrap up the scene. Unfortunately, the book should have chosen to stick with just telling the history of sushi, with none of the sushi school content.
Firstly, Trevor Corson is just not a good dramatic writer. The dialogue was stilted, flat, and boring, with little literary flourish. "So-and-so said 'Blah.' Such-and-such person responded, 'Blah blah blah' back." Dry as sawdust! The book chooses to focus on a few characters and some personality traits early on--Marcos the immature high school flirt, Zoran the hard-nosed instructor, Kate a struggling young woman with no self-esteem--but never fleshes out any of the characters beyond their initial characterizations. Each chapter is just more examples of their one-dimensional personality traits. Worst of all was Kate; most chapters feature her beating herself up and thinking she will never make it as a sushi chef. I think she was written to be a sympathetic character, but--she really doesn't grow at all much over the course of the book until the very, very end, and because the book gives her absolutely no personality traits beyond having low self-confidence, it is really hard to like her or relate to her journey at all.
With no likable or interesting characters, the school portion of the book is a drag to read. The history of sushi is interesting enough, I guess, but it is not interesting enough to suffer through the awful storytelling. Unfortunately, the book weaves in and out of the sushi school and the history of sushi constantly, giving you just drips and drabs of each. The net-out is both pieces feel like they drag out FOREVER! Ugh. Just painful. Some nonfiction books I don't like because the topic just isn't my cup of tea, but I could see how someone else would enjoy it. Not this book--it's just bad. I would never recommend this book to anyone.
This book tries to tell the history of sushi while also telling a (true) story about students at a sushi school in California. Usually, each chapter would start out with a scene from the sushi school, then dive into some aspect of sushi, and then resurface towards the end of the chapter to wrap up the scene. Unfortunately, the book should have chosen to stick with just telling the history of sushi, with none of the sushi school content.
Firstly, Trevor Corson is just not a good dramatic writer. The dialogue was stilted, flat, and boring, with little literary flourish. "So-and-so said 'Blah.' Such-and-such person responded, 'Blah blah blah' back." Dry as sawdust! The book chooses to focus on a few characters and some personality traits early on--Marcos the immature high school flirt, Zoran the hard-nosed instructor, Kate a struggling young woman with no self-esteem--but never fleshes out any of the characters beyond their initial characterizations. Each chapter is just more examples of their one-dimensional personality traits. Worst of all was Kate; most chapters feature her beating herself up and thinking she will never make it as a sushi chef. I think she was written to be a sympathetic character, but--she really doesn't grow at all much over the course of the book until the very, very end, and because the book gives her absolutely no personality traits beyond having low self-confidence, it is really hard to like her or relate to her journey at all.
With no likable or interesting characters, the school portion of the book is a drag to read. The history of sushi is interesting enough, I guess, but it is not interesting enough to suffer through the awful storytelling. Unfortunately, the book weaves in and out of the sushi school and the history of sushi constantly, giving you just drips and drabs of each. The net-out is both pieces feel like they drag out FOREVER! Ugh. Just painful. Some nonfiction books I don't like because the topic just isn't my cup of tea, but I could see how someone else would enjoy it. Not this book--it's just bad. I would never recommend this book to anyone.
Arsenic and Adobo by Mia P. Manansala
1.0
Most books I forget reading after a spell; a few I remember because they were profound; a few, like this one, I remember because of how painfully bad it was. My agony and suffering was only further accentuated and prolonged by my poor decision to listen to this as an audiobook on a long road trip. So many regrets.
Aside from just being painfully unrealistic in regards to the legal process and having painfully one-dimensional Mary-Sue characters, there's just something very tonally deaf about finding someone murdered on the floor and the next page waxing poetic about your over-the-top sensory experience biting into a delicious ube crinkle cookie. WTF?
Aside from just being painfully unrealistic in regards to the legal process and having painfully one-dimensional Mary-Sue characters, there's just something very tonally deaf about finding someone murdered on the floor and the next page waxing poetic about your over-the-top sensory experience biting into a delicious ube crinkle cookie. WTF?
Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell
3.0
Wasn't a bad book, but it felt cursory in its analysis. I think the book raised some interesting questions and made a good point that a cult is more of a spectrum than binary, but those were mostly raised in the beginning of the book. I wish the book had explored the psychology of cults more, or that there had been a more rigorous analysis of language patterns used to induce people into agreeing/following more. However, I'm very interested in both sociolinguistics and psychology more generally, so I probably wanted her to go deeper than the average reader would care. Probably the book could have been shortened by half and I'd have gotten as much out of it. Still, wasn't a bad read, just didn't feel meaty enough.