ralovesbooks's reviews
1431 reviews

“Hope locates itself in the premises that we don't know what will happen and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act.”

My Year of Essays continues with this collection that I bought from Haymarket Books over a year ago. This is my third Rebecca Solnit book, and even though it was published in 2004, it resonated strongly for me. (She does a lot of hand-wringing about the then-current political landscape, at which I could only shake my head at Past Rebecca, knowing what the future held.) The thing that really stuck with me was this idea that hope is a key trait of activists and advocates. It’s not exactly idealism, and it’s not blind optimism; instead, it’s a persistent determination that consistently acting from our values will shape the world. She speaks eloquently about what she calls “the dark,” which could be felt as a sort of bleak despair in the face of dire circumstances, but she reframes it as the dark of the womb, where a baby is full of potential before they emerge. Beyond the dark could feel new and scary, but that’s where possibility takes form.

"[The doctor] was convinced, he said, that their health problems were caused by nerves. This was a common response to women's occupational illnesses, which were often attributed to female hysteria."

File this very good book under Books That Make Me Want to Shout With Rage because WOW, I was infuriated the entire time by this well-written, unfortunately true story. These women! Took jobs they were told were safe! But it was not safe! And multiple companies lied to them! And hid their own medical records from them! And the person I cited above was not even a medical doctor! Meanwhile, these women literally FELL APART while radium poisoned them from the inside out. It's a story of corporate greed, with men in power exploiting disenfranchised women whose only recourse was to rely on other men in power to fight on their behalf. OH, MY WORD, there was much gnashing of teeth.

But yes, I'm really glad I read it. All of the literally dozens of people who have suggested it over the years were right! I would definitely recommend it if you are like me and haven't read it yet, despite it being published for over 5 years. It's an excellent work of history, and it reminded me of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot and Bad Blood by John Carreyrou, both of which made me want to scream and which I have recommended repeatedly.

“It’s a sense of despair about writing itself, a sort of throwing up of hands, as if to say I’ll put this down but it’s not what I really mean because what I really mean cannot be put into words.”

I read this short novel earlier this year but way after everyone else had, hello, it’s me again, Late To The Party. As I take walks and see fall foliage and Canada geese, this book came back to mind. I wish I hadn’t waited so long to read it, but I’m glad I did. This story about art and relationships was so compact and well done. In very few pages, the author had me rooting for the main character and deeply invested in her choices. I didn't agree with everything Casey did, but I really wanted good things for her. I hesitate to call it a quiet book because that makes it sound boring, so instead, it’s very even, which belies the inner conflict and striving. It made me think about expectations of women regarding career and life stage, like when is something a “real” job or milestone in the eyes of society?

I originally read Writers & Lovers digitally, borrowed from the library, and I was delighted to find a nice hardcover copy at my local used book store, which has since closed its doors. Ah, well.

“It is hard for anything to be heard, and even if anyone hears it, how much of a difference could it really make? What change could it possibly bring, just these words? Just this thing that happened once to one person that the listener does not and will never know. It is just a story. It is only words. She does not know if it will make any difference. She does not know if anyone is listening.”

Over the past few weeks, I listened to Lucy Liu perform the audio production while I took dark, misty morning walks in New York City, Hudson Valley, and my own town. In this speculative novel, the author explores a world that feels very similar to our own, except that the Preserving American Culture and Traditions (PACT) Act encourages Americans to report on each other for behavior that feels un-American, based in racism and anti-Asian sentiment. It’s a powerful story that brought me right back to those scary months in 2021 of attacks on defenseless elderly Asian people. Two familiar emotions rose in me like motor memory: a visceral fear of being out in the open and a twisted relief that we were under pandemic lockdown because at least my parents wouldn’t be in public spaces. And I remembered acutely how putting my "normal" face to go to work that week felt like the biggest act of fakery.

The book is also about the subversive power of stories, and how books, libraries, and librarians can form a resistance. Throughout the tension of the plot, there’s a thread of tentative hope. I have enjoyed all of Celeste Ng’s books, and I think this third release is her best yet. It’s the most ambitious in terms of scope and premise, and she follows this logical pathway in a way that’s probably going to feel uncomfortable, but that’s the point. Don’t miss the author’s note at the end.

“A book, too, can be a star, ‘explosive material, capable of stirring up fresh life endlessly,’ a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.” (from Madeleine L’Engle’s 1963 Newbery Award acceptance speech, “The Expanding Universe,” quoting Bertha Mahony Miller)

This beautiful picture book is written by Madeleine L’Engle’s granddaughter and the author of the beloved BabyLit board books, and it tells the story of Madeleine’s creative childhood, difficult school years, and artistic adulthood that led to the writing of A Wrinkle in Time. I eagerly preordered it to add to my Madeleine book collection, and my favorite aspect was the gorgeous illustration style of Adelina Lirius. I’ve seen many photographs of Madeleine over the years, and the pictures capture her tall frame and mystical way of taking in the world. Every page, including the endpapers, could be framed as lovely wall art. Madeleine has been a wise and wonderful voice in my reading ear for my entire life, and she helped me think deeply and ask big questions. This book really captures that spirit.

For the middle grade set, the biography Becoming Madeleine by Charlotte Jones Voiklis and Lena Roy is lovely and includes photos and journal entries from Madeleine’s youth. If you are interested in a picture book written by Madeleine, I love The Other Dog. It’s so charming and funny. For a memoir that bookends the story in this picture book, check out A Circle of Quiet, where Madeleine grapples with being an artist and a mother amid feelings of inadequacy and failure. As ever, my philosophy is that there is a Madeleine book for everyone, and I’m so glad that this picture book biography is out in the world for younger readers to get to know her.

My friend Sachi recommended this book ages ago, and I thought it was so interesting and unique. The book alternates between the author's growing up as a biracial kid and a history of Okinawa from a collective, second person plural voice. It made me want to seek out more books to learn more about Okinawa.

This memoir felt like a mix between Being Mortal by Atul Gawande and Taste by Stanley Tucci: love, grief, memory, and food, all tied together. 

I heard about this book from my friend Morgan, and I enjoyed it. The author doesn’t shy away from the struggles with mental illness in her family, and I think it’s true, as she says, that art and hobbies can help calm whirring anxiety.

My friend Katie tipped me off to this memoir, which I eagerly borrowed from the library, hoping to hear behind-the-scenes stories of Kim’s Convenience. On that front, it fell short, but it was very interesting and resonant to read about the author’s experience as an immigrant child, former Big 4 accountant, and hustling actor of color. If you read it, audio is the way to go.

“There was something I wanted to feel, and I felt it only when I was writing.” (from “The Curse”)

I remarked to my husband that it’s good and scary for me to read excellent essays like the ones in this collection because they simultaneously make me want to write and make me afraid to write. It's a small comfort (tinged with despair) to be reminded that even the most deft writers are afraid, too. The author says about the Iowa Writers’ Workshop:

“I applied because I was afraid of losing something I lost anyway, and I went because I got in. I hoped to find some protection from oblivion, from my own shortcomings, from the culture’s relentless attack on the stories of people like me. I don’t know if I’ve found that, or if I ever will. I still fear those things. I still face them. And for now, I’m still here.” (from “My Parade”)

I was stunned by the whole thing: stories of his undergrad and MFA, what it was like to grow up as a biracial kid, his activism in San Francisco, his rose garden. I read a library copy, but I need my own for reference. I want to go back and take in the heart of the essays and examine the technique. There’s so much here, and I raced through it this time because I couldn’t stop myself.