Not too shabby for the year, especially considering my major goal was working on sobriety; makes me optimistic that next year, I'll be able to do even better because there's always something enjoyable about learning more and connecting more dots. Some of these I may return to for full reviews, but for some offbeat tidbits from some that stand out:
—Bergreen's Capone biography had way too much a fixation on Al Capone's silk underwear. There were times I felt like the damn thing should've been called The Adventures of Al Capone's Silk Underwear (Oh, and Capone, Too). This book was a goddamn slog that, frankly, I don't know why I didn't throw it on the DNF list. I tried to get through it three different times before I finally did. Thing almost put me to sleep during the brief time I worked at USPS training. When you're duller than USPS training seminars, you're pretty fuckin' dull. The Five Families, by contrast, was also a doorstopper, but it actually kept a brisk pace and was informative about the roots and growth of the Mafia in the US. Would recommend that one.
—Ligotti's Conspiracy Against the Human Race made me realize that he just doesn't click for me these days. Maybe when I was a bit younger, and admittedly this is a book of philosophy, not fiction, but so much of it reads like an edgy teen set loose on a half-baked essay a thesaurus. However, apparently this was one of the inspirations for Mathew McConaughey's Rust Cohle in True Detective (the series was also inspired by Robert Chambers' The King in Yellow) so hey, Ligotti's insipid ramblings arguably paid off, that's a damn good show.
—Jane Goodall's Through A Window was an intriguing read and makes me wish she'd written more for adults. It's not as gripping as In the Shadow of Man, but that's an unfair comparison, a bit like saying, "Yeah, Leonardo, these other paintings and stuff are alright, but they're just not the Mona Lisa, you know?"
—On the subject of great reads, you can't get much better than Mandela's autobiography Long Walk to Freedom. Mandela was "the world's last hero," as I've seen it put, and it's hard to disagree with that.
—The General vs. the President by the phenomenal HW Brands was a good, if a bit lighter, read. He is a much better and more nuanced writer than I am so I won't lie: I read this through the lens of Truman as one of my favorite presidents and MacArthur as an overrated, arrogant twatwaffle, and I was not disappointed. My favorite MacArthur Maneuver was him essentially telling China, "If we invade you, this is how we'll do it!" I'm no military tactician, admittedly, but I believe telling your enemy what you'll do so they can set up more effective defenses is generally considered a bad idea in warfare. But hey, it makes sense he's Donald Trump's favorite: windbags of a feather bloviate together.
—The Executioner's Song and Shot in the Heart: talk about a troubling as hell set of books. Norman Mailer's Pulitzer prize-winner came to my attention through both Warren Zevon's 'The French Inhaler' and a true crime show I was watching and I have to agree with the consensus that it'll grip you and those thousand pages will zip by. Essentially: Gary Gilmore came from a troubled background and spent a lot of his life in prison (his upbringing is discussed in Mailer's book as well as in his brother Mikal's memoir, Shot in the Heart, thus the reason for the pair being linked here). Gilmore was a lot of things: impulsive, smart, charming, violent, unpredictable, and he is a person who will catch your attention. But he's also a violent criminal who killed two innocent men, was sentenced to death, and when the death penalty was ruled unconstitutional, went back to court and fought for the execution to be carried out (predictably, for rather selfish reasons, this guy is a real piece of work). Gilmore would succeed and be the first person put to death, by firing squad, after the death penalty was restored in 1976.
—The State of Africa: great general introduction to the continent of Africa in the post-colonial period. Little too lengthy and broad in its approach to say a whole lot more than that, but as Africa is a continent I need to learn a helluva lot more about, I'm grateful I was able to get a bit of a start.
—Strange Justice brings us back to Jane Mayer, joined by Jill Abramson. The book covers a controversial figure over the last year: that kooky old Coke-and-pube-loving Clarence Thomas. Behind the Bastards did a few episodes on him as well and this was one of their primary sources. Thomas is a very, very strange man with a moral compass almost as perverted as his taste in weird pornography. For reference: the guy's apartment was basically wallpapered with centerfolds, he liked shit like Long Dong Silver, and bestiality, which makes me wonder whether he used to be a fan of this guy from my home state. I believe there are several other things that I mercifully bleached out of my memory about his porn habits but it was enough for me to decide, "This shit's too weird even for me," kinda like the contents of Osama bin Laden's "extensive" porno collection: you kinda want to know, but do you really?
—A Death in Italy is not worth the paper it's written on unless you're curious about just how spurious and bullshit Italy's case against Amanda Knox was. The author clearly supports this narrative and it has aged just godawfully, especially now that Italy's judicial system finally got its shit together long enough to acquit and chuck out the charges. (As a side note: I do intend to read Amanda Knox's own Waiting to Be Heard. She and I encountered each other in college and spoke at least once, very thoughtful and smart woman—and as cliche as it sounds, I was convinced she was innocent after having met her. Now, gut instincts can be unreliable, but in this case, now that Italy finally go its shit together and chucked the case, I'm safe in saying I was right. If anyone else has seen the Netflix documentary she did: that detective who went after her seems like a real piece of work who has never met an abuse of power that didn't give him a hard on, an opinion I would argue his treatment of Knox and prior disciplinary history give me valid reasons for feeling).
—Shakespeare's Kings was a brisk, fun little read that helped piece together Shakespeare's history plays in a way that, frankly, would have made a lot of those Shakespeare classes I took in college easier. Ah, well. Interesting to me, probably not the kind of thing most people would find that way—however, if you want something to knock you out for bed and sleeping pills aren't doing the trick, this might.
Just a question of how far along I'm able to get. Looks like I might be shifting a bit more toward comparative religion and fiction and maybe a pinch away from my more history-heavy reading of the last few years but hey, who knows? Book by book, month by month; 2024 is promising!
Comments
Post a Comment