Category: Reviews

I wasn’t sure what this book was supposed to be.

It started off as a bank robbery gone awry. A few dozen pages later, it become a surprisingly heartfelt discussions on morality of intentions, and depressive thoughts. At other times, it tried its best to be a comedy (though, I don’t think it really worked for me).

In the end, I thought it tried to hard to be all three. As a mystery, I thought the “twist” was not that inventive. I did like how the the individual stories from each character played into the overarching mystery though. And also to be fair, it was arguably one of the more realistic resolutions that one can imagine.

As a comedy, it just didn’t click with me. I’m not sure whether it’s the characters or just the way my humor works… but I just didn’t laugh that much at all. Compare this to the Walk in the Woods which I’m currently reading now which has me audibly snickering.

Finally, as a character study, I didn’t much care for the characters. I found them grating, and rather unenjoyable to be around.

I can see why some people would like the book (hence the Netflix adaptation), but it’s not for me.

The Faustian bargain at the heart of the novel is intriguing: our protagonist Addie is allowed to live forever, but she is not allowed to make a “mark” on the world during her life. This means that everyone she meets will forget her as soon as she leaves the room. The curse is the embodiment of “out of sight, out of mind.”

Beyond the social aspects, she cannot draw, paint or write, for those can leave marks. Photographs of her develop to be stubbornly out of focus. Even her transient footprints get wiped away remarkably quickly. She is, in society’s eye, invisible.

While intriguing to discuss the consequences (such as how does one travel internationally in this day and age without a passport if one can be forgotten instantly with no records… or the fact that I think the author could’ve spent much more time in the “meat” of the time period rather than mostly near the beginning and end), the central driving force behind Addie is her desperation to be remembered. In time, she found that she can influence artists to create art inspired by her, supposedly remarkable, face and figure. I really liked this loophole for some odd reason.

Without spoiling the story too much, she meets a… remarkably… dull man who can remember her. Character traits notwithstanding, I did very much enjoy the writing in the last few chapters of this man. Speaking too much here would spoil the ending.

Overall, solid book. Decently interesting plot points. Fun read.

From the very first pages, one could deduce that Ms. Oliphant (as she likes to be called by strangers) is not completely fine. Certain aspects of her life are certainly considered ordinary: she has an ordinary job, a deep grasp of language and a steady schedule. Then one discovers that she has the savoir faire of a judgmental ninny. On top of that, she definitely has an abusive relationship with her mother. Oh, and alcoholism.

But the novel is not about whether she is fine or not. It’s about her journey to realizing that she is not fine, and, subsequently, taking the steps to changing her life. It’s oddly fulfilling to read about a character struggle with loneliness rather than being able to embrace it:

These days, loneliness is the new cancer—a shameful, embarrassing thing, brought upon yourself in some obscure way. A fearful, incurable thing, so horrifying that you dare not mention it; other people don’t want to hear the word spoken aloud for fear that they might too be afflicted, or that it might tempt fate into visiting a similar horror upon them.

Though initially a bit difficult to sympathize with our protagonist,  the author did a wonderful job of making her mental health struggles tangible.

Did I mention that the vocabulary of the book is top notch? Definitely a GRE level novel.

 

A novel about hardship felt especially apropos given the pandemic. In many ways, the novel about a woman enduring the Dust Bowl did its job. My feelings were thoroughly manipulated, and then crushed whenever a misfortune befell our protagonist, which was often. At times, I had tears in my eyes.

But at the end, the book made a turn for the unusual. There’s a distinct break in the plot, after the plot drifted from Texas to California. The change was subtle at first, but it was gradually made clear that there was an underlying political message in the novel. Oddly enough, it was positions which I generally support but nevertheless, seeing it diluted in the novel felt out of place. Perhaps Communism is a major factor during the Dust Bowl. It certainly made sense given FDR’s then-radical policies.

In view of the whole novel, I have to commend the author for an easy read with some interesting historical perspective.

Prior to reading this novel, the only other thriller that I’ve read was arguably The Da Vinci Code. I’ve always stayed away from fast paced action, and prefer character building or world building in my novels. It just seems that movies provide a much better vehicle for suspenseful, simmering plot lines where the pace can be controlled by a director and accentuated by appropriate accompaniment.

The Searcher proved me wrong. The actual crime(s) being investigated could be explained in a grand total of five or so sentences. It was no The Usual Suspect. But what the author excelled at was interweaving thoughtful discussion on morality, ethics and relationships with the whodunit. I found myself thinking about the conundrums facing the main character Cal as proper philosophical questions. It’s the type of discussion which would flub if adapted to a movie, and I thought the story was an excellent vehicle for these discussion.

A few complaints: the beginning could be more interesting, some of the side characters are forgettable, the geography of an Irish town really was hard to grasp with no map or figures. Overall, a fun read where I raced through the last few chapters.

I made the drive between Rhode Island and Florida two and a half times now. On the very first trip up, I listened to the Organized Mind by Daniel J. Levitin. On the most recent drive, I unwittingly borrowed it again from the library, thinking I’ve never read it before. This should be an indication of how much impact this book has.

To be fair, the first part of the book is quite illuminating, with actual neurological and psychological results on how attention works. With this in hand, he gives practical advice on how to structure one’s work and life, with the biggest theme being “export work out of brain and onto physical space.” The book could have ended after part 1, and it would still be a best seller I bet.

But then, the book divulges into an awkward mishmash of applied math and medical advice. In the section discussing Bayes’ rule, I almost felt that he had a personal vendetta against MDs with many anecdotes of “hurr durr, doctor know no math, dumb.” What was the point of this section? I doubt many people know how to perform a literature check on the efficacy of treatment. Later on, while discussing structure of organization (why?),  he seemed to pen in Shannon’s information theory just to say that the number of levels grows logarithmically (again, why bring it up?).

All in all, read the first part. Disregard rest.

I listened to the audiobook version of  Salt Sugar Fat: How the Foot Giants Hooked Us recently, and it’s quite a depressing listen. The author very nicely describes how the processed food industry managed to hook most of the US population on a diet of unhealthy, albeit delicious, foods.

Ultimately, it seems to reside in biology: humans are really bad at living in the modern world. I learned that while there’s a “bliss point” where additional sugar causes actual less enjoyment, no such point exists for fat. That’s a terrifying thought, and one that I have encountered in my own home cooking. The existence of a theoretical maxima for sugar is not a place to anchor one’s hope either; sugar is far less filling and can be incredibly addictive to the point where symptoms of withdrawal can arise.

Another culprit it seems is just greed. The goal to capture more market share results in the manufacturers inventing new ways of capturing the American eye, nose and mouth. The easiest way to do that is the infusion of salt, sugar and fat onto the preservative-laden food, without any regard for the well-being of the consumer. The author constantly makes comparisons with the beleaguered tobacco industry, and it does give the reader glimmers of hope that maybe legal action can help alleviate some of the obesity crisis.

All-in-all, the book was a bit repetitive in some of its material, but still quite interesting.

 

“A separate but no less important reason for the retention of head hair is that it has been a tool of seduction since time immemorial. – The Body, Bill Bryson

He was probably referencing Malcolm Gladwell:

What a beautiful book.

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