Review: The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple

5 stars. Quite simply, the story of Jonestown is strange. It's more bizarre, twisted and terrifying than anything Stephen King could conjure or produce. A huge, collective question remains decades later as we continue to sort out the details and recover from the shock. Why did it happen?

But that's not the question I want answered. I already know why it happened. Jonestown happened because life is full of senseless tragedies and terrible people. It happened because a charismatic man succumbed to his own hubris (and addiction). It happened because people are complicated, and even those with the best intentions can be misguided. 

I picked up this book because I'm more intrigued by the how. I want to know the ins and the outs and the layers and the characters and every moment leading up to the story's horrific conclusion. I'm terribly curious - and also, very determined to honor the victims by trying to understand each and every perspective from start to finish.

Easier said than done, of course. But Jeff Guinn makes a wonderful attempt in his well-researched book The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple. His narrative is exhaustive, and lengthy, but very rewarding for readers like me. There's no arguing that Jim Jones is frequently misrepresented by history, and Guinn leaves no rock unturned in the interest of treating him fairly.

He starts at the beginning, chronicling Jim Jones' early life in Lynn, Indiana. We meet him as an unusual child from a troubled family who practices sermons in the woods and attends every church service on Sundays. We watch him grow into a man with interests, with passion and charisma and faith and eventually, a man with a following. From Indiana to California we go, healing tumors along the way, before landing in the humid jungle of our nightmares.

Guinn is a decent biographer and exquisitely paints details that shape the story. Be aware, there is a thread here that very clearly portrays an opinion. Little comments here are there, winks and nudges and a whiff of disdain for Jones. But there is also restraint. Guinn is careful here - rarely openly critical - perhaps out of respect for Jones' family, his followers, his victims, or for history itself.

I would recommend this book for anyone interested in cults, crimes, fanaticism, religion, even just ... fascinating people. It's a murder mystery and a history textbook and a compelling portrait. I read it on my honeymoon and kept stopping to read aloud particularly crazy bits to my husband. Very in-depth, and very worth it. 

The Road to Jonestown on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Hobbit

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. The Hobbit is, to me, the most special adventure ever. The most thrilling, creative, amusing, satisfying story there is. It's the ultimate example of how to house a simple plot in a complex world with balance and grace. And it's cozy. So fucking cozy.

Everyone has a Hobbit story, right? I remember, upon hearing it read aloud for the first time (by my father, on a vacation, I can't remember where), trying to comment on the words - "the language is different" - and being eagerly told about Tolkien's background in literacy and language. And the writing does feel different - especially now, many years later. It's really relaxed and informal and occasionally too cute for its own good. The friendly tone kind of takes some getting used to, am I right?

But the language is without a doubt part of Tolkien's brilliance. He is truly an artist. I want to dive - no, I want to burrow, deeply burrow - into the core of this story and hide there until second breakfast.

I know it isn't perfect. I know some readers find it boring or confusing or annoying. I actually didn't pick it up for years because I didn't remember the reading experience to be that enjoyable. But after 6 days in a hotel at a conference during which I had exactly 1 full hour to myself (which I spent having a panic attack), my brain wanted comfort food. And the level of incredible delight I felt upon reading the first chapter of this book ... I felt better. I felt excited. I felt the magic of the words.

And yes, the movies are disappointing. Jackson over-extended middle earth until it became bloated, grandiose, and overreaching in a way that contrasts so painfully with the careful, in-depth, loving look of his LOTR trilogy. It's a shame, really, because so much of the beauty of this book lies in its simplicity. The basic adventure story with its unassuming, humble hero, who takes joy in the simple pleasures of life and would scoff at anything so extra.

But let's get back to the book as an accomplishment. There's something thrilling about reading the words from which archetypes were birthed. Yes - to the people who complain about the archetypes - Tolkien invented them. You are reading about the original wizard, the original magic ring, OG dwarves and elves and dragons. It's like reading a preserved manuscript or something - a rare first edition. Sure, he expertly draws on mythology and literature (influences include everything from Old Norse sagas to Jules Verne) but his narrative style and worldbuilding is unprecedented.

I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't already been said. The Hobbit is just so fucking magical and different and amazing. Thank god for Tolkien and his brain and his talent because I'd go crazy without having a window into his world.

The Hobbit on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Middlesex

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. This story begins in a tiny Greek village, many years ago. Our narrator describes in great detail how his grandparents came to be, then how his parents came to be, and finally tells the story of his own new romance in modern day Berlin. Throughout, he paints intimate portraits of his family, his upbringing, his confused sexuality, and various encounters with interesting people in between. The conclusion is inevitable, but these episodes prove captivating. No surprise plot twist here.

I was in the mood for something challenging, unique, and contemplative, and Middlesex is definitely all of those things. It's sprawling - easily an epic. It sweeps across time and space, touching both universal big themes (like sex and culture and religion) and universal small themes (like one's tangled, complex feelings towards his or her parents, and the frequently-written-about challenge of becoming an adult). Middlesex approaches these universal themes, both big and small, with an unflinchingly honest voice. Things considered taboo or bothersome or controversial are spoken about with no hint of shame or apology, only curiosity and honesty. In fact, this might be my favorite part about this book. The reader is not catered to in any way.

As an example, I'll point to one of the most prevalent threads in the story: incest. If this were amateur hour, following the event in question, the reader might encounter entire chapters dedicated to lamentations about the implications and the awful consequences of the act. The offenders might die tragic, torturous deaths as punishment for their crime. Supporting characters would overexplain their discomfort and place line after line under their disapproval. "It's a bomb!" says the spy on my TV screen, while the camera pans directly on what is very obviously and without a doubt, a bomb.

But Cal - our unrelenting storyteller - offers no condemnation of his own. He says nothing like, "In case you don't know, reader, this is wrong. Don't commit incest. It's sinful and disgusting." Instead, he trusts that the reader is already aware. He trusts that the reader will understand that the consequences are right there, embedded in the pages and part of his biological identity. He doesn't have to write INCEST = BAD to make the story any more complete.

In fact, Cal doesn't even try to emphasize its wrongness; he doesn't even feel the need to embed the lesson in subtext. There's nothing but maybe a faint whiff of side-eye instead of fiery condemnation. He seems to be more interested in the details - the hows, the whys, the circumstances, etc. The author is not worried that some parent, convinced that the depiction of incest automatically equates approval, will slap a banned sticker on the cover of his book. Cal knows who he is and accepts why he was born that way. He just ... tells the story. It's super refreshing!

And it's fantastic. It's fantastic, thought-provoking, complex, well-written, troublesome, enlightening, heartbreaking, funny, and more.

Although...

I have to admit that I found the length cumbersome. And occasionally - very occasionally - I could feel the author patting himself on the back for choosing such a complicated, questionable subject. I could feel his self-satisfaction as he described most intimately the scientific ins and outs of sexual biology and psychology; could very briefly glance his smug smile as he "went there." I in no way want to discourage any depiction of incestual or hermaphroditic content, nor will I ever put up my nose at the idea of something different or controversial. I simply question the author's motives, that's all. It's a difficult thing to explain, but it was slightly off-putting, for me. Maybe he was just interested in the topic. Maybe he wanted to be provocative. Maybe both?

Bottom line: Cal's story is unusual but important. My mind felt full and satisfied after reading it.

Middlesex on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Poppy War

5 stars. I didn't expect this to be so complex, or so compelling. Not a perfect book, but the excellent reviews are warranted here. This is something new and different and it's styled wonderfully. I thoroughly enjoyed my deep dive into Asian-influenced military fantasy and I can't wait to see what comes next.

As many have noted, this book has a first half and a second half. The first half tracks Rin (our heroic and sparky protagonist) as she aces an entrance examination for the Sinegard, a military training academy, and tries to find her place as an outcast among her elite, privileged classmates. It's a little Harry Potter-ish, in a good way. Rin works hard and comes of age as a fierce warrior with a talent for shamanism.

The second half shows war. When Sinegard is attacked, Rin discovers that she carries within her a great power - the power to channel a god. With this power she leaves the outcast orphan behind and attempts to navigate the horrors of warfare, the reality of conquest and the threat of genocide. There is a lot of darkness here, and Rin is not left untouched. For this reason and more The Poppy War, despite being a fantasy with mystical elements, feels disturbingly realistic and occasionally difficult to read.

Rin is a fantastic protagonist. She works hard. She's perseverant and she asks questions. She's intelligent and tends toward action. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she feels different from your typical orphan-warrior trope. She doesn't waste anyone's time, including her own, including the reader's. She doesn't have a chip on her shoulder, she just does what she thinks is right in the moment. Did I fully support her decisions? Not always, but I understood them.

The minor characters are not to be overlooked. The elongated, quieter first half gives Rin's surrounding acquaintances a lot of screen time so when the real action hits, the stakes feel impossibly, incredibly high. I don't normally say this but oh man - I loved everyone. I cared about everyone. I felt comfortable with Altan, Kitay, Nezha, Jiang as people, not just characters. They existed with agency and not to simply serve the plot.

And the setting. Gorgeous. The world-building is complicated here, so be prepared, but it's rich and luxurious and intellectual. I was fascinated by the Asian influence and inspired by the Asian elements. The action sequences are carefully written and include enough tactics and strategy to be interesting but not enough to be dry. AND, to top it off with a cherry, this book is, just generally and delightfully, unpredictable. 

I can't wait to read more. I have a feeling this book will go down in history and studied for ages to come. Its examination of warfare - all the questions, none of the answers - left me feeling sad and desperate and disturbed and utterly captivated. I will turn to The Poppy War again and again for its beauty and darkness.

The Poppy War on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Tampa

3 stars. English teacher Celeste Price has a singular sexual obsession: 14-year-old boys. This obsession, which she attributes to her first sexual experience, consumes her. She spends time ogling boys in malls, fantasizing about her students and masturbating to videos of boy bands. In a relentless effort to indulge her cravings, she begins an affair with one of her students, unable to foresee the consequences beyond her own sexual satisfaction. Tampa details this affair from Celeste's perspective, ending in an inevitable and stunning conclusion.

First things first: this book is not for the faint of heart. It should be obvious from the synopsis that the subject matter here is incredibly disturbing. I cannot imagine what sort of mindset Alissa Nutting had to put herself in to put pen to paper here - there is a level of detail in the writing, an extremeness to Celeste's fantasies and urges, that feels too specific to be inaccurate. Because of this it takes a moment, after closing the book, to shake it off and recover. I was made deeply uncomfortable, and I have a really high tolerance for this sort of thing.

I suppose one of my biggest questions here is: why? I consider myself to be open-minded and, in fact, very interested in all types of forms of literature. Even writing without an apparent purpose. Sometimes a poem is just a poem for the sake of it, and I don't hate that. But I found myself really wondering about the intentions here. Provocation? Exploring the taboo? Pushing boundaries? Inhabiting a truly disturbed mindset? Depicting the rarely-depicted female-on-male abuse? All of the above? To what end? 

Don't get me wrong - Tampa is fascinating. It's dark and explicit and brave. I would say that Alissa Nutting is an author with a twisted mind and I would mean it as a compliment. Did I particularly enjoy reading this? No ... not really. I struggled with it. I cringed at it. I recoiled from it. It's like Notes on a Scandal's mean, ugly stepsister (side note: I LOVED Notes on a Scandal). But it's utterly unforgettable. Improbabilities aside, it successfully captures and explores something interesting through a very, very distinct, explicit lens. 

Tampa on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Tulip Fever

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

3 stars. The experience of reading Tulip Fever reminded me so much of wandering through a curated exhibit. Each chapter starts with a referential quote, chosen perfectly to provide context, ambiance and a backdrop for the action to follow. Scenes are set in still life, as though each act is a painting and we are reading its description. The writing is absolutely gorgeous - delicate and sensual and thoughtful.

This is a quick, deceptively heavy read that will appeal to lovers of art and all things visually beautiful. There is some truly great character-building here and despite the simple plot, there are many underlying themes to explore. I'm fascinated by tulip fever and Dutch history and art history and other things on which this book offered a new perspective. And I applaud Deborah Moggach for proving what a pro she truly is.

Didn't totally hit the spot for me though: the plot is completely predictable, frustratingly so, and I just kind of didn't enjoy, on a very basic level, intensely emotional people doing intensely stupid things. So melodramatic! But the climax made me sit up and pay attention - it is misery on a different, twisted level. I admired that and found myself invested. SPOILER: When the singularly most important, crucial object in the book got eaten, I couldn't decide whether to laugh, clap or yell WTF at how simply ridiculous that was.

So here we are, at three stars, my way of saying good not great. Or maybe: there are great aspects but most of it is just okay. Or maybe: I didn't hate it. Ahh, three stars, a tricky place to land. I don't regret reading it. Can we leave it at that?

Tulip Fever on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Circe

5 stars. I think for someone obsessed with stories, the oldest hold a certain appeal. There is something fascinating about the idea that many of the challenges and questions we face today - what does it mean to be human? what does it mean to be good? what does it mean to love? what is glory, honor, power? what does it mean to be a woman? - are the same challenges and questions faced hundreds of thousands of years ago. Maybe those questions will always go unanswered - maybe it is our fate to toil with them for eternity.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Madeline Miller has painted another exquisite portrait of a mythological character in a new and innovative way. Circe, daughter of the sun god and exiled on an island for eternity, gains a fresh voice in this poetic and luxurious tale. It's wonderful. It's well-written, well-plotted, and feminist as fuck. 

"Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep."

I am having a difficult time collecting my thoughts here.

First: women, throughout depicted history, are dichotomized. We are either the jezebel or the madonna; the whore or the frigid bitch; the damsel or the aggressive tomboy. I've written about this in my reviews before, and it is a well-known concept, but I wanted to mention it as Circe especially defies this dichotomy in ways I've never encountered before. 

Circe is a badass part-goddess who can turn men into beasts. She is also capable of great love, sympathy, and self-awareness. She is also filled with self-loathing and guilt and regret. She struggles with her identity surrounded by a family she hates. She is unashamed of her sexuality. She is a mother, but motherhood does not come easily to her. She does not hate being alone, but she is lonely. She is capable of great good and absolute evil. There are layers and layers here that, within Miller's carefully-chosen words, are an absolute joy to witness and unpack. 

We get to see all of her. The thought practically brings me to tears.

Second: men, throughout depicted history, are glorified. Women exist to support, advance and lend to their glory. This is going to be difficult to explain, but I really appreciated that Miller tried to lightly approach the complicated idea that we are required to serve the glory of men and somehow still love them. I'll stop there, at the risk of writing myself in circles.

This is a book to savor. As you can tell, I had an emotional reaction to this and my clumsy rambling doesn't do it justice. 

Ultimately: recognizing that traditionalists will harp on the sort of sentimental elements of Miller's portrait, I was moved by the new take. We turn to stories for answers, often, answers to the Big Questions I mentioned above, and why shouldn't we turn over every rock, examine every possibility, breathe new life into a perhaps (probably) misrepresented character? Miller is intriguing and impressive and I can't wait to see what she does next.

Circe on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: No Time to Spare

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. "I’ve never liked the word blog—I suppose it is meant to stand for bio-log or something like that, but it sounds like a sodden tree trunk in a bog, or maybe an obstruction in the nasal passage (Oh, she talks that way because she has such terrible blogs in her nose)."

Ursula K. Le Guin had a blog. Ursula K. Le Guin had a blog. That simple statement to me epitomizes her intelligence, attitude, and love of writing. The fact that she recognized and tried a new form of writing - in her eighties - makes her a revolutionary figure. A charming, witty revolutionary figure. And holy moly, she was so wise.

No Time to Spare is terrific. It's informal, but not sloppy. Le Guin is funny, sharp, deeply observant, and wonderful to read. She includes anecdotes, insights, musings, and more. I felt keenly her love of words and writing and literature and storytelling and poetry and questions and themes and mystery and birds and cats. I wish I had never finished it. I wish she had never finished. I adore her advice and intelligence. I will probably return to this every year - as often as I can, more likely - to learn from her.

I recommend this collection for cat-lovers, story-lovers, and grin-lovers. By that I mean, people who love to grin. But it isn't all stories and smiles. There are pointy passages about politics and history and human nature. By weaving threads of anger and fear throughout her words, Le Guin emerges as more than a skilled author. She's a kindred spirit, a wise sage, Grandmother Willow. A perceptive, grasping, sensible champion. She will be missed.

No Time to Spare on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)

4 stars. I really, really enjoyed The Dry and COULD NOT WAIT for Force of Nature - and, thank goodness, I wasn't disappointed. Jane Harper has once again achieved a short, sharp mystery with a capable, well-intentioned hero.

Several months after the events of The Dry, Federal Police Agent Aaron Falk is forced to investigate the disappearance of a source in an isolated forest. His source - a CFO with a  mean streak - walked in with four companions on a corporate retreat, and didn't walk out. The story alternates his present-day investigation with flashbacks to the "retreat" and slowly, excruciatingly, the truth is revealed.

Upon finishing The Dry, I felt like I had just read a completely classic thriller - with all the would-be tropes, cliffhangers, shady characters and twists and turns to be expected - except IT WAS REALLY GOOD. The writing was REALLY GOOD. And I feel the same way about Force of Nature. The writing is again atmospheric and fantastic. The mystery is compelling and concise. And the setting - with the paranoia and fear of getting lost in the woods - is borderline terrifying.

If I had one complaint it would be that this one didn't feel as sinister as the first. The outcome just felt unfortunate, rather than gritty-dark. But that's just a preference and everything made sense/felt right.

Aaron Falk, my boo, my favorite somewhat-damaged detective. You are so good, so reliably good. I will follow you anywhere. Can't wait for book number three.

Force of Nature on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Cloud Atlas

5 stars. This book is the most beautiful, breathtaking gut punch. It's a piece of literary genius; philosophical and compelling. It made me feel small - in a good way, like when I visit New York or Tokyo or stand next to the ocean. I was captivated, almost against my will, and I can't wait to read it again and again and again.

Allow me to write a longer summary than usual. It will help me sort through the plot and the themes. SPOILERS TO FOLLOW.

Cloud Atlas collects the stories of six individuals and presents them in a puzzle box. The first story, THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING, takes place in the mid-1800s and follows a notary traveling from the Chatham Isles to California. HIs narrative ends abruptly and the book shifts to LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM, a collection of letters from a bisexual composer to his lover, reporting on his many amusing exploits of the 1930s. This composer encounters a copy of Adam Ewing's journal and is fascinated.

The book then shifts again to HALF-LIVES, THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY, a pulpy thriller about a feisty journalist and her quest to expose a corporation for playing fast and loose with the safety precautions on their nuclear reactor. Rey, in the midst of dodging 1970s clichés and cliffhangers, comes across the composer's letters from the previous section and is desperate to find the rest.

Falling into place, yet? I know, it's great.

Leaving Luisa's fate unknown, we shift to modern times to read THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH, the memoir of an elderly publisher who gets trapped in a nursing home against his will (and ... is sent the first half of a manuscript about Luisa Rey). Cavendish is colorful and - honestly, a little grotesque - but we root for him all the same.

Number five reveals AN ORISON OF SONMI-451, the transcript of an interview with a clone from the far future. Sonmi has "ascended" - she has taught herself to think and feel, and in her own transcendent way attempts to right the wrongs she sees in the world. She also enjoys the first half of the movie version of Cavendish's ghastly ordeal.

Lastly we read SLOOSHA'S CROSSIN' AN' EV'RYTHIN' AFTER. Civilization has fallen. The human population has fractured into isolated tribes living off the earth and avoiding savages. Zachry, a goatherder, worships Sonmi like a god, though he and his people don't understand her origins or the true context of her declarations. 

And then we switch back to Sonmi, who declares in the last moment of her interview that she'd like to watch the rest of the movie about Timothy Cavendish. Cavendish escapes his nursing home prison and reads the second half of the manuscript about Luisa Rey. Luisa survives several ridiculous threats, including a hit man, a bombing and a shootout on a boat to obtain the rest of the composer's letters. The composer, in the last moments of his life, reads the final chapters of Adam Ewing's journal, who closes with “My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?” 

There is, admittedly, a ton to unpack here. My observations and thoughts are as follows:

First - David Mitchell can write anything he wants. Each segment of this book is carefully crafted and completely different. Each character has a distinguishable voice (in some cases, literally) - which is so rare! He emulates styles and forges his own. He can be irritating, and meta as hell, but Cloud Atlas is so fucking impressive. I would've loved to study this in college just so I could discuss and understand everything about it from the word choice to the philosophical questions to the structure.

Second - theeeeeeeeeemes. Theme city. Themes everywhere, as far as the eye can see. Mitchell infuses his work with explorations of the primitive vs. the civilized; nature vs. nurture; sacrifice; power; slavery; mortality ... and all of them - for the most part - bonk you on the head: "Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future." "Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty." Etc. Yeah, there isn't a lot of subtlety here. But it's not bad. It's just heavy and philosophical and leaves you full of joy and sadness at the same time.

Cloud Atlas isn't perfect, I know. It requires commitment and patience and a high tolerance for tricky dialogue, and at times is a little too clever for its own good. It was a rewarding read for me, though, almost comforting. I think I understand the questions it asks and tries to answer. I can't wait to read it again and pull out the details I missed - and to just fall into that world again, even for a moment. After all, “Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.” 

Cloud Atlas on: Amazon | Goodreads