The 11-day office closure that I've been looking forward to has already been interrupted by work and is expected to be interrupted by further work next week. In an effort not to succumb to bad mood bears, I've made a list of all of the fun and relaxing things to do when not working.
1. Read about Roosevelt and the Night Circus.
2. Make many cookies.
3. Practice Moroccan recipes for January's cookbook club.
4. Listen to Buble's Christmas.
5. Eat some oysters and see A Christmas Carol.
6. Taste wine. This is a separate blog post in and of itself. After spending hours of research time on tripadvisor, my Sonoma wine country itinerary is a thing of pride.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Friday, December 23, 2011
Thursday, November 26, 2009
What the Dog Saw
What the Dog Saw: And Other Adventures
by Malcolm Gladwell
You could literally read this entire book online for free -- it is after all a collection of Malcolm Gladwell's essays from The New Yorker. I chose to get the book, since I am a books person, obvi.
The essays are grouped into three categories: "Obsessives, Pioneers, and other Varieties of Minor Genius", "Theories, Predictions, and Diagnoses", and "Personality, Character, and Intelligence". There is an essay on the inventor of the birth control pill, an essay about Cesar Milan, the "dog whisperer", an essay on ethnic profiling. Very diverse topics that are written about in that special Malcolm Gladwell way. There is almost a formula to the structure and style of any piece he writes. A formula that can easily be parodied. The piece of the formula that never ceases to put a smile in my brain is his physical description of every person that makes an appearance in the writing. Someone or other is always a "handsome man, thick through the chest and shoulders, with a leonine head and striking, oversize features." Another character will be a "slender, soft-spoken woman with red hair, [who] recalls her time in Mali with a certain wry humor." I always smile and think of Bridget Jones, who remembers to introduce people with thoughtful details ("Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark's a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel-raced ex-wife. Perpetua's a fart-ass old bag who spends her time bossing me around.")
My favorite essay is called "Something Borrowed". A playwright heavily borrows from a psychiatrist's published memoir of the psychiatrist's life and work as well as Gladwell's New Yorker profile of the psychiatrist. The Tony-nominated play not only incorporates details of the psychiatrist's personal life, it verbatim copies passages of Gladwell's essay. Is this plagiarism? Gladwell goes on to talk about the evolution of music and how musicians and artists sample from each other and music evolves. Similarly, the playwright was not using Gladwell's written words to write another profile about the psychiatrist, she was using his words to create something new. Is this plagiarism? Something to discuss at the dinner table tonight. Happy Thanksgiving!
4 out of 5
by Malcolm Gladwell
You could literally read this entire book online for free -- it is after all a collection of Malcolm Gladwell's essays from The New Yorker. I chose to get the book, since I am a books person, obvi.
The essays are grouped into three categories: "Obsessives, Pioneers, and other Varieties of Minor Genius", "Theories, Predictions, and Diagnoses", and "Personality, Character, and Intelligence". There is an essay on the inventor of the birth control pill, an essay about Cesar Milan, the "dog whisperer", an essay on ethnic profiling. Very diverse topics that are written about in that special Malcolm Gladwell way. There is almost a formula to the structure and style of any piece he writes. A formula that can easily be parodied. The piece of the formula that never ceases to put a smile in my brain is his physical description of every person that makes an appearance in the writing. Someone or other is always a "handsome man, thick through the chest and shoulders, with a leonine head and striking, oversize features." Another character will be a "slender, soft-spoken woman with red hair, [who] recalls her time in Mali with a certain wry humor." I always smile and think of Bridget Jones, who remembers to introduce people with thoughtful details ("Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark's a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel-raced ex-wife. Perpetua's a fart-ass old bag who spends her time bossing me around.")
My favorite essay is called "Something Borrowed". A playwright heavily borrows from a psychiatrist's published memoir of the psychiatrist's life and work as well as Gladwell's New Yorker profile of the psychiatrist. The Tony-nominated play not only incorporates details of the psychiatrist's personal life, it verbatim copies passages of Gladwell's essay. Is this plagiarism? Gladwell goes on to talk about the evolution of music and how musicians and artists sample from each other and music evolves. Similarly, the playwright was not using Gladwell's written words to write another profile about the psychiatrist, she was using his words to create something new. Is this plagiarism? Something to discuss at the dinner table tonight. Happy Thanksgiving!
4 out of 5
Sunday, November 15, 2009
PaperBackSwap
The reason I haven't yet organized and posted photos and told you stories from this wonderful weekend is because I have been running around printing shipping labels and cutting up grocery bags to serve as book wrapping. You see, tonight I entered into a committed relationship with PaperBackSwap.com.
I had known about PBS for some time now, but after seeing it in action this weekend, I asked it out on a date, and it said yes. I set up an account on the website and posted ten paperbacks that I had laying around and taking up valuable shelf space -- books that I had not particularly enjoyed and that are not classics to keep in my collection -- and immediately received two credits, or the option to pick out two books that someone else has and does not want and will ship to me. Well hello, A Christmas Carol and Julie and Julia! Within about fifteen minutes, I got requests for two of the books that I had posted. Once I send them out tomorrow morning and Meg and Maureen receive them in Kansas and New York, respectively, I'll get two more credits.
I think I am falling in love.
I had known about PBS for some time now, but after seeing it in action this weekend, I asked it out on a date, and it said yes. I set up an account on the website and posted ten paperbacks that I had laying around and taking up valuable shelf space -- books that I had not particularly enjoyed and that are not classics to keep in my collection -- and immediately received two credits, or the option to pick out two books that someone else has and does not want and will ship to me. Well hello, A Christmas Carol and Julie and Julia! Within about fifteen minutes, I got requests for two of the books that I had posted. Once I send them out tomorrow morning and Meg and Maureen receive them in Kansas and New York, respectively, I'll get two more credits.
I think I am falling in love.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Mind of a toddler
I recently picked up What the Dog Saw, a collection of Malcolm Gladwell's essays from The New Yorker. Not having completed it, this is not my official review or endorsement, but I did want to share his opening remarks while they were still fresh in my mind.
In the preface, Gladwell says that his impulse to write many of these essays stemmed from a "curiosity about the interior life of other people's day-to-day work". What does a doctor do? What does it FEEL LIKE to be a doctor? Being a doctor is not the same thing as sitting at a computer, or driving a truck, or teaching at school, so when we meet one, we want to know all about what it's really like, taking care of sick people all day long. This common human curiosity first emerges when we are toddlers and we exhibit what is known as the "other minds" problem.
And that's when I realized that I have yet to outgrow toddler-hood.What do you MEAN you are not a Democrat? What do you MEAN you like country music and the musical stylings of Journey? What do you MEAN you own multiple guns? HUH?!
I also liked his response to the haters, the readers who say "I don't buy it." I've encountered several such haters after reading Outliers and quoting it to anyone who would listen. To them, Gladwell says that his writing isn't meant to persuade. His writing is meant to engage you and make you think.
I'm buying it, Malcolm. Me! I am! (Therefore, so should everyone else.)
In the preface, Gladwell says that his impulse to write many of these essays stemmed from a "curiosity about the interior life of other people's day-to-day work". What does a doctor do? What does it FEEL LIKE to be a doctor? Being a doctor is not the same thing as sitting at a computer, or driving a truck, or teaching at school, so when we meet one, we want to know all about what it's really like, taking care of sick people all day long. This common human curiosity first emerges when we are toddlers and we exhibit what is known as the "other minds" problem.
One-year-olds think that if they like Goldfish Crackers, then Mommy and Daddy must like Goldfish Crackers too: they have not grasped the idea that what is inside their head is different from what is inside everyone else's head.
And that's when I realized that I have yet to outgrow toddler-hood.What do you MEAN you are not a Democrat? What do you MEAN you like country music and the musical stylings of Journey? What do you MEAN you own multiple guns? HUH?!
I also liked his response to the haters, the readers who say "I don't buy it." I've encountered several such haters after reading Outliers and quoting it to anyone who would listen. To them, Gladwell says that his writing isn't meant to persuade. His writing is meant to engage you and make you think.
I'm buying it, Malcolm. Me! I am! (Therefore, so should everyone else.)
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Liars' Club
The Liars' Club: A Memoir
by Mary Karr
I finished reading the entire second half of The Liars' Club this morning in a frenzy, wanting to finish it in time for Book Klub, which is not even until Thursday night, but I am already getting anxious about the number of people that are descending upon my apartment, and will I have enough seating and enough rotisserie chicken to feed them all?
The Liars' Club is a memoir of a small-town childhood in the early 1960's in Texas. When you pick up a book such as this one, you know, before even opening the first page, that the writer's family was somehow dysfunctional, his/her childhood somehow messed up. The question is, how?
Karr's mother, a would-be painter, is an alcoholic. Depressed. She reads from a pile of books on existentialism and philosophy and laments her glory years in New York City. She has been married more times than Karr can fathom. Karr calls her Nervous. At the very end, you learn about the mother's true story, and I just cannot decide if it absolves her or not.
Karr's father, also a heavy drinker, is a union man working for an oil refinery. He and his buddies get together to drink beers and tell stories -- the Liars' Club they call it.
Her slightly older sister, Lecia, is really her center of gravity. Pronounced "Lisa", in my head I kept saying "Leesha, oh wait no, Lisa" as I read. Annoying.
The cast of characters also includes a strict and frightening grandmother who has cancer. An unidentified rapist and an identified one.
What amazes me every time that I read a memoir is the amount of detail and color the story has, even if the story takes place during childhood, when the writer may or may not have understood or known everything that was really going on at the time. This one is no exception. For most of this story, Karr is between six and eight years old. In the Acknowledgments, she thanks her mother, who for two years answered all questions freely and helped with research for the book. Unfortunately, this story did not really make me think about anything other than how distrubing it is.
3 out of 5
by Mary Karr
I finished reading the entire second half of The Liars' Club this morning in a frenzy, wanting to finish it in time for Book Klub, which is not even until Thursday night, but I am already getting anxious about the number of people that are descending upon my apartment, and will I have enough seating and enough rotisserie chicken to feed them all?
The Liars' Club is a memoir of a small-town childhood in the early 1960's in Texas. When you pick up a book such as this one, you know, before even opening the first page, that the writer's family was somehow dysfunctional, his/her childhood somehow messed up. The question is, how?
Karr's mother, a would-be painter, is an alcoholic. Depressed. She reads from a pile of books on existentialism and philosophy and laments her glory years in New York City. She has been married more times than Karr can fathom. Karr calls her Nervous. At the very end, you learn about the mother's true story, and I just cannot decide if it absolves her or not.
Karr's father, also a heavy drinker, is a union man working for an oil refinery. He and his buddies get together to drink beers and tell stories -- the Liars' Club they call it.
Her slightly older sister, Lecia, is really her center of gravity. Pronounced "Lisa", in my head I kept saying "Leesha, oh wait no, Lisa" as I read. Annoying.
The cast of characters also includes a strict and frightening grandmother who has cancer. An unidentified rapist and an identified one.
What amazes me every time that I read a memoir is the amount of detail and color the story has, even if the story takes place during childhood, when the writer may or may not have understood or known everything that was really going on at the time. This one is no exception. For most of this story, Karr is between six and eight years old. In the Acknowledgments, she thanks her mother, who for two years answered all questions freely and helped with research for the book. Unfortunately, this story did not really make me think about anything other than how distrubing it is.
3 out of 5
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Olive Kitteridge and Kitchen Confidential
Olive Kitteridge
by Elizabeth Strout
Thirteen stories about residents of a small town in coastal Maine, all linked by Olive Kitteridge, a retired teacher. I will give this book an unenthusiastic
4 out of 5
Kitchen Confidential
by Anthony Bourdain
I hated Bourdain's pompous, coke-addicted, mean voice throughout the entire narrative. But I also couldn't wait for bedtime reading time every night to learn more behind-the-scenes kitchen stories.
4 out of 5
by Elizabeth Strout
Thirteen stories about residents of a small town in coastal Maine, all linked by Olive Kitteridge, a retired teacher. I will give this book an unenthusiastic
4 out of 5
Kitchen Confidential
by Anthony Bourdain
I hated Bourdain's pompous, coke-addicted, mean voice throughout the entire narrative. But I also couldn't wait for bedtime reading time every night to learn more behind-the-scenes kitchen stories.
4 out of 5
Monday, June 29, 2009
New Rules
New Rules: Polite Musings from a Timid Observer
by Bill Maher
A collection of polite musings of the "I don't get that your air is poison and your job is gone and your son is scattered all over a desert you can't find on a map, but what really matters is boys kissing" variety. Religulous is funnier and time better spent.
3 out of 5
by Bill Maher
A collection of polite musings of the "I don't get that your air is poison and your job is gone and your son is scattered all over a desert you can't find on a map, but what really matters is boys kissing" variety. Religulous is funnier and time better spent.
3 out of 5
Sunday, June 14, 2009
My Life in France
My Life in France
by Julia Child
So after reading this book, I am very much interested in French cooking, even though it sounds kind of nasty at times and terribly difficult most other times. This book is Julia Child's memoir of moving to France with her husband, discovering a love for French food and cooking, taking classes at the Cordon Bleu, writing her famous Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and filming The French Chef. Basically I am just a sucker for books that describe food and European countries with gusto and enthusiasm. And I definitely admire people who throw themselves wholeheartedly into something they absolutely love. This book is inspiring on many levels -- try new recipes, work on language skills, travel, take more photographs, be committed to a labor of love project, enjoy yourself when you do these things. Julia Child is officially my new life coach. WWJCD? What Would Julia Child Do?
4 out of 5
by Julia Child
So after reading this book, I am very much interested in French cooking, even though it sounds kind of nasty at times and terribly difficult most other times. This book is Julia Child's memoir of moving to France with her husband, discovering a love for French food and cooking, taking classes at the Cordon Bleu, writing her famous Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and filming The French Chef. Basically I am just a sucker for books that describe food and European countries with gusto and enthusiasm. And I definitely admire people who throw themselves wholeheartedly into something they absolutely love. This book is inspiring on many levels -- try new recipes, work on language skills, travel, take more photographs, be committed to a labor of love project, enjoy yourself when you do these things. Julia Child is officially my new life coach. WWJCD? What Would Julia Child Do?
4 out of 5
Saturday, June 6, 2009
More adventures in cooking / Under the Tuscan Sun
Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home in Italy
by Frances Mayes
Mmmm...Tuscany sounds delicious. I finished this book a while ago but wanted to try one of the recipes before I wrote about it. That's right, this book has recipes. And is nothing like the movie. Where the movie is romantic, and Frances is newly single and finds herself in Italy on a gay tour bus, paid for by her gay friends Christina from Grey's Anatomy and Addison from Private Practice in an effort to pick up Frances's spirits, and Frances buys a Tuscan villa on her own and meets hot Italian men, in the original memoir, she and her manfriend Ed purchase and renovate the villa together and the book is more about the renovation and their adaptation to the new culture than about their romance. I actually had to put the book down for a while because reading about all the things that were wrong with the house got tedious. Then I watched the movie and got a second wind to finish the book. So overall I gave the book a
3 out of 5.
So here is the recipe, which I attempted last night. It involves polenta so of course I was all about it.
Polenta with Sausage and Fontina
Prepare classic polenta (page 131).
Rich Polenta Parmigiana per page 131
Soak 2 cups of polenta in 3 cups of cold water for 10 minutes. In a stock pot, bring 3 cups of water to a boil and stir in the polenta. Let it come to a boil again, then turn down the heat immediately and stir for 15 minutes on a gentle flame that is strong enough to keep slow, big bubbles rising. Add salt and pepper, 8 tablespoons of butter, and 1 cup of grated parmigiano. Add more water if polenta is too thick. Stir well.
Polenta with Sausage and Fontina cont.
Pour half of the polenta into an oiled baking dish. Thinly slice or grate 1-1/2 cups of Fontina and spread over the layer of polenta. Season with salt and pepper. Pour on the rest of the polenta. Slice 6 sauteed Italian sausages over the top and pour on the pan juices. Bake for 15 minutes at 300 degrees. Serves 6.
Notes: I used Goya brand corn meal to make the polenta, because I couldn't find the "polenta" grain at the store, which I've seen and used previously and which took 10-15 minutes to cook. The instructions for making polenta on this particular package had be standing at the stove over a pot of boiling corn meal, stirring constantly for an entire half of an hour. I got sweaty. And I am still not very clear on whether or not Mexican corn meal is the exact same thing as "polenta". I sliced the fontina instead of grating, which made for a very cheesy dish. Definitely enjoyable. For sausage I got pre-cooked chicken sausage with Italian flavoring that I sauteed in olive oil. Also really good. So dinner was pretty much delightful, how could it not be if the main ingredient is polenta, I just never really know if I have the consistency of the cooked grain right, and the Mexican corn meal situation definitely made it more confusing.
by Frances Mayes
Mmmm...Tuscany sounds delicious. I finished this book a while ago but wanted to try one of the recipes before I wrote about it. That's right, this book has recipes. And is nothing like the movie. Where the movie is romantic, and Frances is newly single and finds herself in Italy on a gay tour bus, paid for by her gay friends Christina from Grey's Anatomy and Addison from Private Practice in an effort to pick up Frances's spirits, and Frances buys a Tuscan villa on her own and meets hot Italian men, in the original memoir, she and her manfriend Ed purchase and renovate the villa together and the book is more about the renovation and their adaptation to the new culture than about their romance. I actually had to put the book down for a while because reading about all the things that were wrong with the house got tedious. Then I watched the movie and got a second wind to finish the book. So overall I gave the book a
3 out of 5.
So here is the recipe, which I attempted last night. It involves polenta so of course I was all about it.
Polenta with Sausage and Fontina
Prepare classic polenta (page 131).
Rich Polenta Parmigiana per page 131
Soak 2 cups of polenta in 3 cups of cold water for 10 minutes. In a stock pot, bring 3 cups of water to a boil and stir in the polenta. Let it come to a boil again, then turn down the heat immediately and stir for 15 minutes on a gentle flame that is strong enough to keep slow, big bubbles rising. Add salt and pepper, 8 tablespoons of butter, and 1 cup of grated parmigiano. Add more water if polenta is too thick. Stir well.
Polenta with Sausage and Fontina cont.
Pour half of the polenta into an oiled baking dish. Thinly slice or grate 1-1/2 cups of Fontina and spread over the layer of polenta. Season with salt and pepper. Pour on the rest of the polenta. Slice 6 sauteed Italian sausages over the top and pour on the pan juices. Bake for 15 minutes at 300 degrees. Serves 6.
Notes: I used Goya brand corn meal to make the polenta, because I couldn't find the "polenta" grain at the store, which I've seen and used previously and which took 10-15 minutes to cook. The instructions for making polenta on this particular package had be standing at the stove over a pot of boiling corn meal, stirring constantly for an entire half of an hour. I got sweaty. And I am still not very clear on whether or not Mexican corn meal is the exact same thing as "polenta". I sliced the fontina instead of grating, which made for a very cheesy dish. Definitely enjoyable. For sausage I got pre-cooked chicken sausage with Italian flavoring that I sauteed in olive oil. Also really good. So dinner was pretty much delightful, how could it not be if the main ingredient is polenta, I just never really know if I have the consistency of the cooked grain right, and the Mexican corn meal situation definitely made it more confusing.
Friday, May 8, 2009
It Sucked and then I Cried
It Sucked and then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita
by Heather B. Armstrong
I have been a fairly diligent reader the past couple of weeks but not a diligent blogger. Ironically, the second to last book I've finished was written by my blogging idol -- dooce. You would have thought that I'd hop right on over to the computer after turning the last page. And yet, you would have been wrong. Perhaps I have been using too much of my blogging energy to update Twitter.
In this memoir, dooce recounts her first pregnancy and battle with postpartum depression, for which she ends ups seeking help at a mental institution. Would it be wrong for me to say that this book was highly entertaining? I mean her writing style is why I come back to her blog every day -- hyperbole meets wacky associations meets CAPITAL LETTERS FOR EMPHASIS. She may be talking about feeling intensely uncomfortable during the breastfeeding months or the strains in her marriage, serious topics for sure, but she describes these things as boob-shaped maxi pads that give her crinkly boobs and throwing gallons of milk at her husband's head. OK, yes, when I summarize it like that, she definitely sounds like a crazy lady. But dammit, crazy lady has a good blog.
4 out of 5
P.S. Shouldn't my Blogger spell checker, of all the spell checkers out there in the world, recognize the correct spelling of dooce?? Deep thoughts.
by Heather B. Armstrong
I have been a fairly diligent reader the past couple of weeks but not a diligent blogger. Ironically, the second to last book I've finished was written by my blogging idol -- dooce. You would have thought that I'd hop right on over to the computer after turning the last page. And yet, you would have been wrong. Perhaps I have been using too much of my blogging energy to update Twitter.
In this memoir, dooce recounts her first pregnancy and battle with postpartum depression, for which she ends ups seeking help at a mental institution. Would it be wrong for me to say that this book was highly entertaining? I mean her writing style is why I come back to her blog every day -- hyperbole meets wacky associations meets CAPITAL LETTERS FOR EMPHASIS. She may be talking about feeling intensely uncomfortable during the breastfeeding months or the strains in her marriage, serious topics for sure, but she describes these things as boob-shaped maxi pads that give her crinkly boobs and throwing gallons of milk at her husband's head. OK, yes, when I summarize it like that, she definitely sounds like a crazy lady. But dammit, crazy lady has a good blog.
4 out of 5
P.S. Shouldn't my Blogger spell checker, of all the spell checkers out there in the world, recognize the correct spelling of dooce?? Deep thoughts.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Book catch-up
I am sort of behind in my book postings. You're thinking: bitch, pleeease.
No, really.
Gary Panter
by Robert Storr et al
These art books were a Christmas present from my brother. More precisely, he gave me an amazon gift certificate, and I used it to expand my future amazing collection of illustration, art, and children's books. Gary Panter seems to be kind of a big deal in graphic art and design circles, and he's won awards for his set design of Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I thought that this two-volume collection of his works would be a formidable addition to my collection.
The books are filled with pages such as this:
Aquarium from garypanter.com
My plan of attack at this point is to allow the tomes to hang out on the bookshelf for a bit, maybe break them out when we have guests over and those said guests want to feel like they're on LSD. Really though, these books should be kept away from women and children.
3 out of 5
Annie Leibovitz at Work
by Annie Leibovitz
Annie Leibovitz muses about her career in this book, which is also peppered with some of her famous portraits. I almost wished that there was less musing and more photography, although one of my favorite parts of the book was her discussion of her session with the Queen of England, as I vaguely remember some controversy and gossip surrounding it.
4 out of 5
In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto
by Michael Pollan
Maybe you remember my obsession with Omnivore's Dilemma. Yes, I still harbor deeply intense feelings and thoughts about grass-fed cows and the role that corn plays in our society. This is Michael Pollan's follow-up. The message this time is: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." Really the take-away is that you should not be eating anything that your great-grandmother would not have eaten. You know, Twinkies. And Cheez-It crackers. Items that are masqueraded as "food" at the grocery store because technically you can digest them, but that have little nutritional value, give you cancer and diabetes, and have ingredients that you cannot pronounce.
The first two-thirds of the book are very scientific -- nutrients this and nutrients that. And as I am not even positive that I ever passed my high school chemistry class, most of that information went over my head. The last third of the book talks about common sense healthy eating habits, which unfortunately get pushed aside in favor of Lean Cuisines and 100-calorie packs of Pringles during tax busy seasons. Ideally you should be taking more time to prepare fresh foods and more time eating them. Fortunately for me, I have time to go the farmer's market every day to whip up a delicious and wholesome lunch and dinner. Oh wait, no I don't. To make matters worse, I don't think my great-grandmother had much of anything to eat in Soviet Russia. So basically this book does not even apply to me.
3 out of 5
No, really.
Gary Panter
by Robert Storr et al
These art books were a Christmas present from my brother. More precisely, he gave me an amazon gift certificate, and I used it to expand my future amazing collection of illustration, art, and children's books. Gary Panter seems to be kind of a big deal in graphic art and design circles, and he's won awards for his set design of Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I thought that this two-volume collection of his works would be a formidable addition to my collection.
The books are filled with pages such as this:
Aquarium from garypanter.com
My plan of attack at this point is to allow the tomes to hang out on the bookshelf for a bit, maybe break them out when we have guests over and those said guests want to feel like they're on LSD. Really though, these books should be kept away from women and children.
3 out of 5
Annie Leibovitz at Work
by Annie Leibovitz
Annie Leibovitz muses about her career in this book, which is also peppered with some of her famous portraits. I almost wished that there was less musing and more photography, although one of my favorite parts of the book was her discussion of her session with the Queen of England, as I vaguely remember some controversy and gossip surrounding it.
4 out of 5
In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto
by Michael Pollan
Maybe you remember my obsession with Omnivore's Dilemma. Yes, I still harbor deeply intense feelings and thoughts about grass-fed cows and the role that corn plays in our society. This is Michael Pollan's follow-up. The message this time is: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." Really the take-away is that you should not be eating anything that your great-grandmother would not have eaten. You know, Twinkies. And Cheez-It crackers. Items that are masqueraded as "food" at the grocery store because technically you can digest them, but that have little nutritional value, give you cancer and diabetes, and have ingredients that you cannot pronounce.
The first two-thirds of the book are very scientific -- nutrients this and nutrients that. And as I am not even positive that I ever passed my high school chemistry class, most of that information went over my head. The last third of the book talks about common sense healthy eating habits, which unfortunately get pushed aside in favor of Lean Cuisines and 100-calorie packs of Pringles during tax busy seasons. Ideally you should be taking more time to prepare fresh foods and more time eating them. Fortunately for me, I have time to go the farmer's market every day to whip up a delicious and wholesome lunch and dinner. Oh wait, no I don't. To make matters worse, I don't think my great-grandmother had much of anything to eat in Soviet Russia. So basically this book does not even apply to me.
3 out of 5
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Acquired Tastes
Acquired Tastes
by Peter Mayle
The ultimate finer things guide for the wealthy gentleman. This book is a collection of short essays on experiencing some truly extravagant luxuries. In a nutshell (not adjusted for inflation since the late 80s/early 90s):
1. $1,300 hand-cut, hand-stitched, hand-built shoes -- your feet are reported to become elegant, lose weight, and turn from frogs into princes. I can't even imagine, since I wear pointy-toed masochist shoes every day.
2. Mistresses -- my take-away from this essay was that I need to become one. Graciously receive finer things presents without any obligation to wash the man's socks.
3. Servants -- my servants would love me. They'd have huge pictures of me up on the walls and in their homes, like Lenin.
3. Caviar (and we're not talking about any random fish eggs in a can or jar, but specifically the eggs of the sturgeon) -- according to Mayle, it should be eaten straight up, with a spoon. I grew up on caviar. I didn't have blue jeans, but I had caviar. We always ate it on buttered bread.
4. The malt -- Mayer recommends Glenfiddich (excellent for beginners, best-selling single malt in the world), Glenmorangie (aged for ten years in old bourbon barrels), and Laphroaig (the most richly flavored of all Scottish whiskies). Malt tasting party anyone?
4. $1,000 folding Panama hat -- it's made of straw.
3 out of 5
by Peter Mayle
The ultimate finer things guide for the wealthy gentleman. This book is a collection of short essays on experiencing some truly extravagant luxuries. In a nutshell (not adjusted for inflation since the late 80s/early 90s):
1. $1,300 hand-cut, hand-stitched, hand-built shoes -- your feet are reported to become elegant, lose weight, and turn from frogs into princes. I can't even imagine, since I wear pointy-toed masochist shoes every day.
2. Mistresses -- my take-away from this essay was that I need to become one. Graciously receive finer things presents without any obligation to wash the man's socks.
3. Servants -- my servants would love me. They'd have huge pictures of me up on the walls and in their homes, like Lenin.
3. Caviar (and we're not talking about any random fish eggs in a can or jar, but specifically the eggs of the sturgeon) -- according to Mayle, it should be eaten straight up, with a spoon. I grew up on caviar. I didn't have blue jeans, but I had caviar. We always ate it on buttered bread.
4. The malt -- Mayer recommends Glenfiddich (excellent for beginners, best-selling single malt in the world), Glenmorangie (aged for ten years in old bourbon barrels), and Laphroaig (the most richly flavored of all Scottish whiskies). Malt tasting party anyone?
4. $1,000 folding Panama hat -- it's made of straw.
3 out of 5
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The God Delusion
The God Delusion
by Richard Dawkins
I will preface by saying that I felt really controversial reading this book -- even for being, what some may call, a "godless liberal", it felt controversial.
Richard Dawkins effectively attacks the unquestioned belief in God -- not what he calls the Einsteinian God, the force of Nature or the universe, but the supernatural creator that can hear simultaneously the prayers or millions of people, that punishes homosexuals and the societies that harbor them with tsunamis, that furiously and jealously cares whether or not we believe in him.
At first I was slightly put off by Dawkins's tone/unrelenting attack. Although I was agreeing with his points, I could see how his ideas could offend some readers. But then I got over it. The points spoke loud and clear. (And why shouldn't an atheist woman be offended when a Catholic tells her that a priest can only be a person who has testicles, for example? It should go both ways.)
I find the topic of religion in America fascinating. Although America was not established as a Christian nation, it is now one of the more (most?) religious industrialized countries. England, with its Church of England, is one of the least religious. In addition, it is inappropriate to question religion and to question religious people about their faith. But where does their faith come from? And why must we treat the topic of religion with kid gloves?
Dawkins structures the book by laying out the arguments commonly given for God's existence and then systematically breaks them down. He touches upon the roots of religion, the superiority of the Darwinist argument over the Creationist one, human psychology, the roots of morality, the moral lessons presented in the Old and New Testaments, the indoctrination of children, and countless other captivating tidbits. There were too many ideas that jumped out and slapped me in the face. In a good way. I should have taken notes.
Soon I promise to consider the other side and finally read C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity.
5 out of 5
by Richard Dawkins
I will preface by saying that I felt really controversial reading this book -- even for being, what some may call, a "godless liberal", it felt controversial.
Richard Dawkins effectively attacks the unquestioned belief in God -- not what he calls the Einsteinian God, the force of Nature or the universe, but the supernatural creator that can hear simultaneously the prayers or millions of people, that punishes homosexuals and the societies that harbor them with tsunamis, that furiously and jealously cares whether or not we believe in him.
At first I was slightly put off by Dawkins's tone/unrelenting attack. Although I was agreeing with his points, I could see how his ideas could offend some readers. But then I got over it. The points spoke loud and clear. (And why shouldn't an atheist woman be offended when a Catholic tells her that a priest can only be a person who has testicles, for example? It should go both ways.)
I find the topic of religion in America fascinating. Although America was not established as a Christian nation, it is now one of the more (most?) religious industrialized countries. England, with its Church of England, is one of the least religious. In addition, it is inappropriate to question religion and to question religious people about their faith. But where does their faith come from? And why must we treat the topic of religion with kid gloves?
Dawkins structures the book by laying out the arguments commonly given for God's existence and then systematically breaks them down. He touches upon the roots of religion, the superiority of the Darwinist argument over the Creationist one, human psychology, the roots of morality, the moral lessons presented in the Old and New Testaments, the indoctrination of children, and countless other captivating tidbits. There were too many ideas that jumped out and slapped me in the face. In a good way. I should have taken notes.
Soon I promise to consider the other side and finally read C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity.
5 out of 5
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Red Diaper Baby
Red Diaper Baby: Three Comic Monologues
by Josh Kornbluth
A bit like reading David Sedaris essays, only straighter and more communist. Kornbluth talks about growing up being the son of communist parents, being a math nerd at Princeton, and being a somewhat incompetent secretary at a large law firm. These topics make for interesting writing and stories. I mean, if I were writing a monologue about my life, I would probably talk about how I was working on a tax project one day and was working on an Excel file for about four hours, and then lost that file. Kornbluth wins. I imagine that these monologues would be enjoyable to see performed as well, since certain bits seemed like they would have more oomph if read out loud with different tones of voice and significant pauses. Definitely an entertaining read when you are sitting at the office on a Saturday afternoon waiting for your company's computer network to start working again so that you can recreate that file that you lost!
4 out of 5
by Josh Kornbluth
A bit like reading David Sedaris essays, only straighter and more communist. Kornbluth talks about growing up being the son of communist parents, being a math nerd at Princeton, and being a somewhat incompetent secretary at a large law firm. These topics make for interesting writing and stories. I mean, if I were writing a monologue about my life, I would probably talk about how I was working on a tax project one day and was working on an Excel file for about four hours, and then lost that file. Kornbluth wins. I imagine that these monologues would be enjoyable to see performed as well, since certain bits seemed like they would have more oomph if read out loud with different tones of voice and significant pauses. Definitely an entertaining read when you are sitting at the office on a Saturday afternoon waiting for your company's computer network to start working again so that you can recreate that file that you lost!
4 out of 5
Sunday, February 8, 2009
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir
by Elizabeth McCracken
This book is a memoir of a woman whose first child was stillborn. It's beautifully written and of course terribly melancholy. I don't know what else to say.
4 out of 5
by Elizabeth McCracken
This book is a memoir of a woman whose first child was stillborn. It's beautifully written and of course terribly melancholy. I don't know what else to say.
4 out of 5
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
1. "I found my dancing shoes but they don't fit"
So I've been reading some of the "25 Random Things About Me" facebook notes that people have been posting recently. People that I haven't spoken to in years. People that I suspect secretly wish they had their own blogs. And then I read about Laid-Off Dad's approach -- make a blogging/writing exercise out of the idea by choosing a lyric from the first random song that pops up in your music shuffle and writing something about yourself relating to the lyric. Are you wondering why I am even following Laid-Off Dad's blog? Well, let's just say that I added a few blogs to my Google Reader in Ireland to keep myself "busy" while "at work" and this blog happened to be one of the lucky few many and now I am in way over my head in following blogs. I realize that I am being totally unoriginal here, but hey, I get a fun writing exercise to talk all about myself and revel in my narcissism, and you get to read and pass judgment.
So the rules are these: I'll use my "Currently" playlist on the iPhone which has a bunch of songs that I am, you know, currently listening to. If the first song that pops up doesn't have a good lyric that I can write about and I go to the second random song or the third, you probably won't ever know. I may not post every day as there is this pesky thing called tax busy season that's looming dangerously close on the horizon, like right above our heads really. Let's see if I actually make it to the twenty-fifth post.
1. "I found my dancing shoes but they don't fit"
Song: Ion Square by Bloc Party
If there is reincarnation, I know that in a previous life I must have been a professional ballerina. In this life, I was born with that true passion for ballet that unfortunately got thwarted by flat feet and inflexibility. I had to really work on getting the splits, my ankles never got strong enough to really master dancing in pointe shoes, and my leg extensions were never high enough. After years of muscle-stretching pain, blisters, broken toe-nails, SHATTERED DREAMS, I was told after the eighth grade to quit and avoid the imminent risk of breaking an ankle. The grace was there -- grace I had. But my body was just not built for the physical demands of ballet. Not in this life. The irony of my childhood was that I apparently had the talent for piano but could care less about it. The Great Ballet/Piano Debate was perhaps the definition of little KT during some formative years. How strange that seems now.
Which brings us back to Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers. Gladwell argues that all you need is 10,000 hours of practice to master a skill, such as playing an instrument or having Bill Gates computer knowledge. Kind of arbitrary, this 10,000 hours benchmark. Perhaps I could have spent more time at home stretching out the arches of my feet and getting my ankles stronger. Ten thousand hours of feet exercises? Jesus. Does performing torture on your body fall under the 10,000-hour mastering a skill umbrella? Discuss.
In another previous life I was a piano enthusiast with squat and chubby fingers, small hands, and no musical ear.
At some point I was also British.
So the rules are these: I'll use my "Currently" playlist on the iPhone which has a bunch of songs that I am, you know, currently listening to. If the first song that pops up doesn't have a good lyric that I can write about and I go to the second random song or the third, you probably won't ever know. I may not post every day as there is this pesky thing called tax busy season that's looming dangerously close on the horizon, like right above our heads really. Let's see if I actually make it to the twenty-fifth post.
1. "I found my dancing shoes but they don't fit"
Song: Ion Square by Bloc Party
If there is reincarnation, I know that in a previous life I must have been a professional ballerina. In this life, I was born with that true passion for ballet that unfortunately got thwarted by flat feet and inflexibility. I had to really work on getting the splits, my ankles never got strong enough to really master dancing in pointe shoes, and my leg extensions were never high enough. After years of muscle-stretching pain, blisters, broken toe-nails, SHATTERED DREAMS, I was told after the eighth grade to quit and avoid the imminent risk of breaking an ankle. The grace was there -- grace I had. But my body was just not built for the physical demands of ballet. Not in this life. The irony of my childhood was that I apparently had the talent for piano but could care less about it. The Great Ballet/Piano Debate was perhaps the definition of little KT during some formative years. How strange that seems now.
Which brings us back to Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers. Gladwell argues that all you need is 10,000 hours of practice to master a skill, such as playing an instrument or having Bill Gates computer knowledge. Kind of arbitrary, this 10,000 hours benchmark. Perhaps I could have spent more time at home stretching out the arches of my feet and getting my ankles stronger. Ten thousand hours of feet exercises? Jesus. Does performing torture on your body fall under the 10,000-hour mastering a skill umbrella? Discuss.
In another previous life I was a piano enthusiast with squat and chubby fingers, small hands, and no musical ear.
At some point I was also British.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Outliers
Outliers
by Malcolm Gladwell
This entire book may or may not be complete horseshit, all I know is that I ate it all up. Gladwell argues that successful people, exceptional people, outliers, do not achieve their success just because of who they are, just by their talent or genius or hard work. They also have the right set of opportunities presented to them, they are born in the right decade (or even time of year), they have the right sort of parents, they have the right set of great-great-great grandparents. Basically, the have tremendous luck. It's not enough to be a genius with an IQ of 200 to win the Nobel Prize. All of those other factors are either working in or against your favor. To me that's sort of self-evident, and yet I wanted him to keep persuading me with more and more stories. Gladwell's examples include Canadian hockey players, Bill Gates, Robert Oppenheimer, Asian math students, the Beatles, and top NYC lawyers. There was one example I could actually kinda sorta apply to my own life.
Gladwell begins the book by pointing out that a disproportionate amount of successful Canadian hockey players are born in the months of January, February, and March. Since Canada's cutoff date for hockey programs is January 1, a child born on January 2 would start out at the same level as a child born on December 31 of the same year. The January birthday has a twelve-month advantage (critical months when you are still a child), being both physically and mentally more mature. The January birthday will get more playtime, increasing his skills further, and will thus be picked for the stronger league with better coaching and better teammates in the next year, further increasing his skills, etc., etc.
Gladwell then parallels Canadian hockey leagues to America's public schools. A math and science test given to fourth-graders showed that the older students scored significantly higher than the younger students. From kindergarten on, the older students are ushered on as the ones with the more ability (teachers/parents/school systems are confusing maturity with ability), and are placed in the advanced reading and math groups. They learn better skills and next year do even better, etc., etc. And this is where my life story comes in. I entered the public school system in October of 1990. I was six, about to turn seven in less than two months. There were talks of placing me in the second grade -- I could read and I would be turning seven so soon after all. The parents and the school ultimately placed me in the first grade since I didn't speak much English. After that, I was always one of the older students in my classes and one of the successful. If I had been initially placed into second grade, I would have been the youngest, the most behind in my development. Perhaps that would have meant not being up to the standards of the gifted and talented program in the fourth grade, and thus no magnet program in middle school, no academic program in high school, no scholarship in college.
Obviously, just because a Canadian hockey player is born in December doesn't necessarily mean that he won't become a star or the youngest child in the class will not be the best student. But statistically, such cases are significantly fewer in number it seems.
The rest of the book details other components of success with other famous examples. It's an easy read, and you learn that it takes ten thousand hours to master a skill (is that really true??). I urge you to read this book so that we can discuss it and you can tell me what you think. Even if it's to tell me that you think it IS bullshit.
5 out of 5
by Malcolm Gladwell
This entire book may or may not be complete horseshit, all I know is that I ate it all up. Gladwell argues that successful people, exceptional people, outliers, do not achieve their success just because of who they are, just by their talent or genius or hard work. They also have the right set of opportunities presented to them, they are born in the right decade (or even time of year), they have the right sort of parents, they have the right set of great-great-great grandparents. Basically, the have tremendous luck. It's not enough to be a genius with an IQ of 200 to win the Nobel Prize. All of those other factors are either working in or against your favor. To me that's sort of self-evident, and yet I wanted him to keep persuading me with more and more stories. Gladwell's examples include Canadian hockey players, Bill Gates, Robert Oppenheimer, Asian math students, the Beatles, and top NYC lawyers. There was one example I could actually kinda sorta apply to my own life.
Gladwell begins the book by pointing out that a disproportionate amount of successful Canadian hockey players are born in the months of January, February, and March. Since Canada's cutoff date for hockey programs is January 1, a child born on January 2 would start out at the same level as a child born on December 31 of the same year. The January birthday has a twelve-month advantage (critical months when you are still a child), being both physically and mentally more mature. The January birthday will get more playtime, increasing his skills further, and will thus be picked for the stronger league with better coaching and better teammates in the next year, further increasing his skills, etc., etc.
Gladwell then parallels Canadian hockey leagues to America's public schools. A math and science test given to fourth-graders showed that the older students scored significantly higher than the younger students. From kindergarten on, the older students are ushered on as the ones with the more ability (teachers/parents/school systems are confusing maturity with ability), and are placed in the advanced reading and math groups. They learn better skills and next year do even better, etc., etc. And this is where my life story comes in. I entered the public school system in October of 1990. I was six, about to turn seven in less than two months. There were talks of placing me in the second grade -- I could read and I would be turning seven so soon after all. The parents and the school ultimately placed me in the first grade since I didn't speak much English. After that, I was always one of the older students in my classes and one of the successful. If I had been initially placed into second grade, I would have been the youngest, the most behind in my development. Perhaps that would have meant not being up to the standards of the gifted and talented program in the fourth grade, and thus no magnet program in middle school, no academic program in high school, no scholarship in college.
Obviously, just because a Canadian hockey player is born in December doesn't necessarily mean that he won't become a star or the youngest child in the class will not be the best student. But statistically, such cases are significantly fewer in number it seems.
The rest of the book details other components of success with other famous examples. It's an easy read, and you learn that it takes ten thousand hours to master a skill (is that really true??). I urge you to read this book so that we can discuss it and you can tell me what you think. Even if it's to tell me that you think it IS bullshit.
5 out of 5
Friday, December 12, 2008
Dear Santaland Diary,
Usually at this time of year, I like to sit in a comfortable chair and re-read one of my favorite short stories, David Sedaris's "Santaland Diaries." The setting: a winter wonderland at Macy's. The players: demented Santas, screaming children, photo-happy parents, Jon Bon Jovi, and a chorus of elves, as told by David Sedaris, a 33 year-old man dressed in a green frock as Crumpet the elf, who just might possibly be a little bitter about his station in life. Today, the universe smiled down upon me and brought me some extra Christmas cheer as several moving forces converged and I found myself eating a bowl of soup and watching my favorite story being acted out on a stage in front of my nose.
Act 1: My Dublin travel guide had mentioned lunchtime performances at Bewley's Cafe on Grafton Street. But my travel guide also says that Dubliners call the pub the "chipper" and urges the traveler to do the same. So basically anything that comes out of that travel guide has a 50-50 chance of being either really useful information or utter horseshit, and you are really taking your chances on it each time.
Act 2: Yesterday at lunch, I walked into Bewley's to buy yet another Orla Kiely tea tin. A girl at the door, trying to stuff a flyer into my hand, mumbled something about a lunchtime performance. I was on an Orla Kiely tea tin mission, so needless to say I did not really pay attention and all she got was my polite sidewalk smile.
Act 3: This morning, coming up on lunchtime, with half of the office gone and me waiting around for the work day to end, I suddenly remembered that poor girl outside of Bewley's and the lunchtime performances I had read about in that horseshit slash good travel guide. An Internet research project was born.
Act 4: With a bowl of soup and some soda bread, I watched/listened to that favorite story of mine.
The actor channeled David Sedaris's voice and mannerisms pretty convincingly. The only times I doubted that he was an American was when he said "tay-co" for taco and "Karl" for carol. Also when I saw on the program that his name was Patrick O'Donnell.
Epilogue: To continue on the Christmas spirit, after work I rushed to the first day of the "12 Days of Christmas Market" across town. After such a hard day's work I felt it necessary to reward myself with some mulled wine and garlic mushrooms and Christmas stollen. In a few days I will go back for the German sausage, crispy potatoes, and mince pie. Possibly also to browse the actual wares stalls. Definitely to get some Christmas market PODs. I hope that woman standing by the mulled wine vat is ready for her photo feature in the Review Notes blog!
The End/Sincerely,
KT
Act 1: My Dublin travel guide had mentioned lunchtime performances at Bewley's Cafe on Grafton Street. But my travel guide also says that Dubliners call the pub the "chipper" and urges the traveler to do the same. So basically anything that comes out of that travel guide has a 50-50 chance of being either really useful information or utter horseshit, and you are really taking your chances on it each time.
Act 2: Yesterday at lunch, I walked into Bewley's to buy yet another Orla Kiely tea tin. A girl at the door, trying to stuff a flyer into my hand, mumbled something about a lunchtime performance. I was on an Orla Kiely tea tin mission, so needless to say I did not really pay attention and all she got was my polite sidewalk smile.
Act 3: This morning, coming up on lunchtime, with half of the office gone and me waiting around for the work day to end, I suddenly remembered that poor girl outside of Bewley's and the lunchtime performances I had read about in that horseshit slash good travel guide. An Internet research project was born.
Act 4: With a bowl of soup and some soda bread, I watched/listened to that favorite story of mine.
"We were packed today, absolutely packed, and everyone was cranky. Once the line gets long we break it up into four different lines because anyone in their right mind would leave if the knew it would take over two hours to see Santa. Two hours - you could see a movie in two hours. Standing in a two hour line makes people worry that they're not living in a democratic nation. People stand in line for two hours and they go over the edge. I was sent into the hallway to direct the second phase of the line. The hallway was packed with people, and all of them seemed to stop me with a question: which way to the down escalator, which way to the elevator, the Patio Restaurant, gift wrap, the women's rest room, Trim-A-Tree. There was a line for Santa and a line for the women's bathroom, and one woman, after asking me a dozen questions already asked, "Which is the line for the women's bathroom?" I shouted that I thought it was the line with all the women in it."
The actor channeled David Sedaris's voice and mannerisms pretty convincingly. The only times I doubted that he was an American was when he said "tay-co" for taco and "Karl" for carol. Also when I saw on the program that his name was Patrick O'Donnell.
Epilogue: To continue on the Christmas spirit, after work I rushed to the first day of the "12 Days of Christmas Market" across town. After such a hard day's work I felt it necessary to reward myself with some mulled wine and garlic mushrooms and Christmas stollen. In a few days I will go back for the German sausage, crispy potatoes, and mince pie. Possibly also to browse the actual wares stalls. Definitely to get some Christmas market PODs. I hope that woman standing by the mulled wine vat is ready for her photo feature in the Review Notes blog!
The End/Sincerely,
KT
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Giving books
Washington Post book critic Michael Dirda's 10 Commandments of Book Giving. Books make the best presents!
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