crybabybea's reviews
229 reviews

This was so unbelievably boring. I pushed through because it's been recommended so many times by people whose reading tastes usually perfectly match mine, and it's also been personally recommended to me by people I trust. Everyone swears that it pays off by the end but I just left feeling meh. I hope that it pays off in reading the rest of the series but after my experience with this book I have very little desire to continue the series, at least for right now.

I love a character driven story, and I love when fantasies really take their time with the world to allow the reader to explore and really feel immersed. I think the problem I had here was that all the build-up felt unnecessary. 

The world itself is not complicated enough that we really need to dig into the details of political machinations, nor are the characters unique enough that we need to spend 80% of the book in the mundanity of their lives to really get a feel for what motivates them/what their challenges are. Yes, they were good characters, for the most part, I love unlikeable characters, but you have a good foundation for their characterizations pretty quickly. The world is just like every other medieval fantasy, and though I see the subversions taking root, I can't say my reading experience was bettered by spending the majority of the book in war rooms discussing the action happening off-page.

The way women were portrayed in this book was also ick, despite there being a huge lack of female characters at all. Sometimes I even felt like women didn't even exist in this world except Ardee, who basically served to be a motivation for one of our POV characters, and a plot device for the character arc of one of the secondary main characters. I hope her story gets a little more attention in the following books. Ferro, our only female POV character, has such an interesting (though not necessarily unique) characterization that makes her POV one of the standouts for me. The chapter that introduces her was my favorite out of all, I think.

And it kinda bugs me because Abercrombie is clearly a talented writer. He has a great ability for "show don't tell", as well as a dark, witty humor that really settles itself well in the world he's created. I don't really understand why he chose to write this book the way he did, so that the first book is almost like a prequel introducing the characters and world, rather than a fully-fledged first book with its own plot.

I don't regret my time reading, and I'm still interested in the series as a whole simply for the fact that it's supposedly right up my alley, but this was really hard to get through.

The first half was a solid 5 stars; the idea of shifting your perspective on America's racial hierarchy to categorize it as a caste system similar to India or Nazi Germany is something that seems simple on the surface (many times the author explains something and I went ??? DUH why didn't I see that before), but Isabel Wilkerson really digs deep into research to show the complexities of her argument. Surely it should shift the way you view America as a whole, as well as the details of every interaction, from public political events to everyday conversations.

Though it was relevant at the time of its writing, referencing 2016, the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, Black Lives Matter protests, etc., it is still just as important in 2025, almost sickeningly so. The threads that Wilkerson draws are at times hard to swallow but will definitely shift the way you view the country.

The last half of the book devolves a bit from the main point, though I understand why Wilkerson included the stories/facts she did. It serves to bolster her argument that she sets up in the first half, but I think that those who already have experience reading about systemic racism in America won't find much new information. Because of this, the second half begins to feel repetitive. Though I can see it being incredibly enlightening for those who have the least experience with the material. 

Definitely a must-read to anyone trying to study anti-racism.

This book made me physically ill. Sickening, but necessary.

Nick Turse doesn't hold back when detailing the horrendous war crimes committed by US soldiers during the Vietnam war. Although most people with a cursory understanding of the war will know of the My Lai massacre, Turse makes the argument that the atrocities of My Lai were only one example out of many. 

Turse highlights the systemic abuse of power shown by the US army, especially of those commanding officers which passed their horrific policies down to their (extremely young) subordinates. He fully blows away the common belief that the military is full of a few "bad apples", and that reckless violence committed during war can be excused as "kill or be killed", instead making an extremely persuasive argument that the US military itself, built on imperialism, colonialism, dehumanization, and racism is rotten to the core.

You can bet your ass that the systemic violence, racism, misogyny, classism, etc. plays a part in every US conflict to date. It's very clear that the issues laid out in this book are the modus operandi of the US military, not just a "mistake" or an "accident". It's easy to see parallels to the conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as the genocide in Palestine involving IDF soldiers trained directly by the US, and even as far back as the Long Walk.

Of course, the book lacks context about the war at large; why was the US involved, which events led up to massacres like My Lai, how was public reaction to certain policies, what was the president doing? But, that's not the goal of this book. Instead, Turse forces the reader to ask themselves, no matter the context, no matter the reasoning, can the careless disregard for life ever be justified? 

What we're left with is yet another entry in the long, long list of atrocities committed by the United States that continue to be whitewashed and swept under the rug, that the United States refuses to address or remedy. 

It's clear why this is a classic. I had a lot of fun reading this and realizing just how many pieces of modern horror are clearly inspired by this, or make callbacks to this.

I loved the symbolism and the metaphor. I think writing the haunted house almost like its own character and tying it into the mental health decline of the main protagonist so interesting and especially inventive for its time. Eleanor is entirely unreliable, and it's unclear if any of the hauntings were real at all. I always think obviously unreliable protagonists are extremely fun, it makes you want to reread certain passages and try to pick apart things that happen.

I found Eleanor to be a very sympathetic main character. She's socially awkward, shy, and comes from profound trauma that leaves her feeling like she doesn't belong, constantly second-guessing her actions and wondering how others perceive her. I think a lot of people can relate to her. By the end of the book, although she's not a perfect character by any means, I felt an immense sadness for her.

However, I admittedly had trouble motivating myself to pick this up because of the writing style. It wasn't clear to me where the story was going, and I was expecting more tension and, well, horror. But this is more like a slow burn psychological thriller. The tension is definitely there but not in the way I expected. I honestly think if this were a longer work, I would have given it up. 

BUT the author makes up for it with tight prose and clipped dialogue. She doesn't spend too much time on the minutiae of descriptions or over-explaining her characters' thoughts and feelings. She definitely knows how to use her prose to create a feeling of claustrophobia, so you almost feel like you're going mad alongside the main character.

The ending was jaw-dropping. I had no idea where it was going but it was super satisfying in a wicked way. 

Not perfect but damn good. It scratched the Six of Crows itch that I'm always searching for.

Foundryside is a nearly perfect mix of action-packed tension, flawed characters that win your affection, dark humor, inventive world-building, and themes that parallel our own world.

Bennett's writing really shines in moments of action, and many scenes are cinematic experiences that feel well thought out and believable. In a weird way this book reminded me of Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy? Like it's dark, tense, and action-packed, but expertly sprinkles in humor both through dialogue and via actions taken by the characters. And our cast of characters are, while not necessarily unique, well-written and experience arcs that are well-earned and enjoyable. So much fun! But, be warned, some scenes are quite violent, and while the author doesn't lean towards straight-up gore and body horror, he does come rather close.

The magic system, built on a rune-like system that is likely familiar to fantasy fans, finds ways to be inventive and interesting. At times I felt it was a parallel to AI technology - objects that aren't necessarily sentient but come as close as possible. The magic was just mythical enough that some larger-than-life things were possible, but the author was able to reign it in and keep things from getting out of control. It was such a fun world to explore, and full of political intrigue.

With a scientific magic system, be prepared for just a tad bit of over-explanation; Bennett likes to explain exactly how machines work and exactly how our characters interfere with them. I do feel like Bennett kept the overexplanation to a minimum considering how technical it could have gotten, and thanks to a heavy amount of dialogue, the book remains readable and somewhat fast-paced.

There were a few iffy things here and there, like dialogue sometimes leaning towards exposition-dumping in unnatural ways, and the laws of the world sometimes being a bit nebulous, but the great parts about the story more than make up for any minor issues I had. I will warn you that it takes just a little bit to set up - around 30% until the plot really starts going and the intrigue hikes up. For once, though, the slow-ish start pays off very well!

Painstakingly detailed, to a fault. This book needed to narrow in the scope and cut out unnecessary details. Yes, by the end, it makes sense why Maddow chose to include the details she included, but the payoff wasn't worth the trudge through incessant lists of numbers and personal details of people involved.

Also, I'm just not a fan of Rachel Maddow's tone - I'm okay with sardonic humor and sarcastic comments and have even read other nonfiction books that use this writing style that I absolutely loved, but the way Maddow chose to write heavily shows her biases and at times comes across as almost? infantilizing? the people involved. I think this was made worse because I listened to the audiobook and found Maddow's narration to be grating.

In the end, I can say I learned a lot, but the quality of information I learned seems to be rather low. By the time we got to the important part (how US oil execs teamed up with Russia to create an uber-powerful industry that controls the world), my brain was so full of fluff that I didn't even care to really dig in and digest the material. 

The latter half of the book is still a worthwhile read, and I personally found it interesting to understand the things that happened in my adolescence before I was politically active - Edward Snowden, Guccifer, tension between Russia and Ukraine, etc.

I didn't learn as much as I expected; this book reads more like a personal memoir rather than a rigorous overview of how different marginalizations interact with sickness and viruses. I think a lot of the information presented is kind of... obvious? Though it's nice to have it all laid out with anecdotes and (some) supporting evidence. 

Actually my favorite part of the book were the pages dedicated to talking about prominent figures in the fight against HIV and its stigma. Some passages were incredibly moving, while some personal reflection felt out-of-place or failed to bolster Thrasher's argument. For this reason I feel like I could get a better experience out of something that focuses on HIV and ACT UP rather than something that tries to address the issue so broadly.

I also appreciated how Thrasher unabashedly incriminated the entirety of the US government; not just conservatives or anti-maskers. In doing so, he sometimes veers off-topic but I think overall paints a picture of just how deep the systemic issues go. 

Although the book is sad, there is an overall hopeful message and Thrasher attempts to find light in the immense amount of darkness caused by viruses such as HIV and COVID-19. I do think his main goal was to change the reader's perspective on viruses and the types of people we are taught to associate with them, and I think he succeeded in that goal.

Hanif Abdurraqib will likely go down in history as one of our generation's greatest writers.

In A Little Devil in America, he masterfully connects threads of culture and personal experience to craft a work that is all at once critical, reflective, nostalgic, and beautiful. He writes with such love and passion that, even if you can't relate to his experience or are unfamiliar with the material, you can find a common thread of understanding because of his ability to target specific emotions, feelings, and memories.

I was constantly amazed at his ability to shift the lens of focus from personal, to cultural, to political, zooming in and out of vignettes of Black history that have either been forgotten or never had their time in the cultural zeitgeist to begin with. His essays are so well crafted, always giving the right amount of information, personal interpretation, and yet always leaving enough space for the reader to really sink into the experience and reflect.

He's also created such a uniquely immersive experience by pinpointing certain songs, albums, or performances. There are plenty of opportunities to stop reading, watch or listen to the moment being discussed, and come back to the writing to experience the impact in real time. This sort of interactivity is rare and almost upgrades the reading experience to something beyond "just reading".

And, it should go without saying that Abdurraqib's writing is poetic and profoundly moving. His ability to capture emotions in metaphor and analogy is seriously unmatched. If you have the time, listen to his poem "And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When the Rapture Comes".

Short but passionate overview of the dangers of identity politics and how they have become co-opted by the elite (and in doing so defining that the elite can be anyone of any background, so long as they are the one in the room with the most power). 

I loved that Táíwò takes the stance that, instead of changing the way conversations are had, we need to change the conversation entirely. I appreciated that he used real-world examples from around the globe to support his point, but I think at times his use of metaphors didn't work well for his argument. It turned some of his ideas a bit abstract and amorphous and at times a bit hard to follow. 

This is more of an idea/philosophical musing than an actual in-depth overview of identity politics and how to combat liberalism. Which is fine, but readers might want to know before picking it up. Either way, it gives a great starting point to understanding how identity politics have evolved and overstayed their welcome. It's a conversation that you can take with you into all activist spaces, specifically in combatting liberal feminism and liberal anti-racism, to name a couple.

Seems apt in the discourse of this current election cycle and can help leftists further their understanding of our current political climate.

Must read. Incredibly harrowing and will change the way you view your everyday life. Every modern comfort we have comes with its own pound of flesh.

I think this is probably the first book about the Congo's current situation told while including perspectives from the Congolese people. I have to admire the author for doing the journalistic work even when it was dangerous; he met a lot of opposition on his journey through the DRC. 

Siddharth Kara calls out by name the companies, countries, and executives who profit off of the deaths of people in the Congo, including women and children. 

The writing itself was hit-or-miss, and the author has a tendency to focus on mundane details that often didn't add to the information being presented. Admittedly, I had a hard time keeping track of the different city/village names, so when they were brought up in conversation later it was hard to piece together the differences. However, Kara shows us expertly that there is no place untouched by the cobalt industry and its harsh, exploitative, and violent practices.