Tag: books

Back Cover Blurb of Hurts So Good: The Science and Culture of Pain on Purpose by Leigh Cowart

An exploration of why people all over the world love to engage in pain on purpose–from dominatrices, religious ascetics, and ultramarathoners to ballerinas, icy ocean bathers, and sideshow performers

“My breath caught hard in my chest, the sensation from my feet crashing into the realization that getting everything I dreamed of really would come at a cost.”

― Leigh Cowart, Hurts So Good: The Science and Culture of Pain on Purpose

Leigh Cowart explores and enters different cults of pain to understand who is drawn to various methods of “feeling bad to feel better.” This combination with her often used phrase “pain on purpose” remind me of Jon Kabat-Zinn’s definition of mindfullness, “Mindfulness is awareness that arises through paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgementally.” She juxtaposes this with historical examples, scientific research, and her personal journey from ballet through a dangerous eating disorder to sexual masochism.

The book is conversational and as such, it leaves more questions than answers. My take is that she is really exploring – but does not explicitly state – what is healthy use of pain and why so many things society values demand painful payment to acquire. She seems to imply that she has found consensual and controlled pain to be part of managing her predilection towards more dangerous and less healthy forms of pain, like the eating disorder that almost killed her. More to the point, it is weird to condemn pain while revering the results it brings, yet there are so many examples where this happens.

If you pick this book up, remember that watching is a form of participation and it is likely that some part(s) of it can create a reaction in the reader.

Back Cover Blurb of The Lost Apothecary by Sarah Penner:

A forgotten history. A secret network of women. A legacy of poison and revenge. Welcome to The Lost Apothecary….

Hidden in the depths of 18th-century London, a secret apothecary shop caters to an unusual kind of clientele. Women across the city whisper of a mysterious figure named Nella who sells well-disguised poisons to use against the oppressive men in their lives. But the apothecary’s fate is jeopardized when her newest patron, a precocious 12-year-old, makes a fatal mistake, sparking a string of consequences that echo through the centuries.

Meanwhile in present-day London, aspiring historian Caroline Parcewell spends her tenth wedding anniversary alone, running from her own demons. When she stumbles upon a clue to the unsolved apothecary murders that haunted London 200 years ago, her life collides with the apothecary’s in a stunning twist of fate – and not everyone will survive.

With crackling suspense, unforgettable characters, and searing insight, The Lost Apothecary is a subversive and intoxicating debut novel of secrets, vengeance, and the remarkable ways women can save each other despite the barrier of time.

“I realized my grief was richer and more nuanced than what lay on the surface. This was about more than the burden of the apothecary. More than James’ infidelity. Intermingled in the mess was another subtler secret that James and I had hid from each other for years.

We were happy, yet unfulfilled. It was possible, I understood now, to be both at the same time. I was happy with the stability of working for my family yet unfulfilled by my job and burdened by the things I hadn’t pursued. I was happy with our desire to someday have children yet unfulfilled by my achievements apart from family life. How had I only just learned that happiness and fulfillment were entirely distinct things?”

― Sarah Penner, The Lost Apothecary

If this quote that I selected above strikes you as an searing insight, then this book is for you. You will love it in an unqualified way. I definitely enjoyed this book, but I felt the 18th century part of the story was stronger than the present day half. First the good, because I really enjoyed getting absorbed in this book. The concept is interesting- uncovering women who, centuries ago, helped other women kill the men in her life when they had no other options, when you need some perspective on your modern day marriage. I love London, so I enjoyed the now and then setting. The parallel timeline was well-executed and my relative privilege as a modern day woman was something I appreciated in a fresh way throughout the book.

Part of me felt critical of modern day timeline. Caroline was disappointed that her history degree did not immediately lead to some glamorous unnamed history job, ungrateful for her steady income in what she now sees as a less-than-exciting position in her family’s business, and seemed unrealistic about the amount of effort and tenacity required to get or keep meaningful life goals like career or marriage. Her cheating husband was weirdly worse. I did love Caroline’s new found librarian friend – my favorite character in the modern timeline and perhaps the book, as she was competent and a good friend right from the beginning.

I found this book to be a strange mix of reminding us how much progress woman have made in the last couple centuries and women obsessed with whether or not they were or could get pregnant and how procreating was in conflict with progressing careers – perhaps an indicator that we have further to go. Perhaps I was hoping that Caroline would at some point appreciate her relative privilege of options like divorce and starting over, but despite being obsessed with the Apothecary killer mystery, she never seemed to directly contrast her situation with the happenings of the other timeline.

Still, I love the idea and execution of a story that frames the world that we live in today as a product of thousands of long forgotten interactions, relics of which may be buried under our feet if we have time and reason to look. I loved the pacing of pulling me through two stories at once. And I love London, which felt like one of the characters in this book.

Back Cover Blurb for Recursion by Blake Crouch:

Reality is broken.

At first, it looks like a disease. An epidemic that spreads through no known means, driving its victims mad with memories of a life they never lived. But the force that’s sweeping the world is no pathogen. It’s just the first shock wave, unleashed by a stunning discovery – and what’s in jeopardy is not our minds but the very fabric of time itself.

In New York City, Detective Barry Sutton is closing in on the truth – and in a remote laboratory, neuroscientist Helena Smith is unaware that she alone holds the key to this mystery…and the tools for fighting back.

Together, Barry and Helena will have to confront their enemy – before they, and the world, are trapped in a loop of ever-growing chaos.

“In high school, in college, she was encouraged again and again to find her passion-a reason to get out of bed and breathe. In her experience, few people ever found that raison d’etre.

What teachers and professors never told her was about the dark side of finding your purpose. The part where it consumes you. Where it becomes a destroyer of relationship and happiness. And still, she wouldn’t trade it. This is the only person she knows how to be.”

― Blake Crouch, Recursion

I am narrowing in on really enjoying scifi thriller type books as my go to pleasure read. One reason I really like many time travel books is that the authors have frequently painstakingly laid out the plot and they have to be tight. This is not a book that was written by sitting down and typing out whatever pops into their head as a final draft. It is really difficult to write time loops without the repetition becoming boring, but when it is done well, it can be mind-blowing. As with many books in this genre, you have to let some of the science be fiction, but that is one reason I enjoy reading this type of scifi- it brings science back to its philosophical roots and then makes a small turn from the world we know.

You might think that the world of fiction does not need another New York police detective with a painful past, but I kind of like that this book starts with a trope and does something interesting with it. I might have been seduced by the female scientist that was absent at the beginning but took a more and more prominent role as the book went on. I loved the journey, the destination, and the people along the way.

I do have a few, minor nitpicks. Toward the end, things got kind of crazy, even for me, with the world ending over and over, but I got through that section fast enough that it did not detract from the overall story for me. There were also some characters introduced in the beginning that I thought would be a bigger deal but wound up being side notes. Overall, it was my favorite fiction I have read so far this year and I am so glad it was recognized as a Goodreads Choice winner back in 2019 when it came out.

Back Cover Blurb of Crying in H Mart: A Memoir by Michelle Zauner

From the indie rock star of Japanese Breakfast fame, and author of the viral 2018 New Yorker essay that shares the title of this book, an unflinching, powerful memoir about growing up Korean American, losing her mother, and forging her own identity.

“I remember these things clearly because that was how my mother loved you, not through white lies and constant verbal affirmation, but in subtle observations of what brought you joy, pocketed away to make you feel comforted and cared for without even realizing it.”

― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

To stay true to my format, I picked a favorite quote from this book that I do like. But there was a beloved quote from a different book that kept me company while listening to this book.

“Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.”

― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

In this book, it is literally true. She is wandering around H Mart, looking for an identity among her descriptions of the brightly labeled packaging. I wonder if this is why this book has such broad appeal beyond the Korean-American population. We use up our decision making and identity forming power on choosing our breakfast cereal or whatever and then we are out of it for things that matter. So when someone from our neighborhood shares that they are now homeless, we wish them love and light in their transition and direct them to the local church or Walmart parking lot instead of offering them a place to stay or taking broader action to fight homelessness in the community. The brightly colored labels reassure us that as long as we are worth marketing to, we matter.

This book is fantastic to listen to while making dinner, as it has so many beautiful descriptions of food. At some point, while making foods from ethnicities that are not mine. It made me wonder if my appreciation of foods from around the world meant that I might be culturally appropriating my menu, but then I decided that lots of people have spent lots of time finding the most delicious things and to not use that would be throwing out a lot of human effort.

Thankfully, my mother is still alive. As more of my friends loose their mothers, I am more and more grateful that I don’t relate to this part of the book yet. I continued with the story until her mother died and she and her father randomly went to Vietnam to get over the grief. Then I could not bring myself to read anymore. So many people I know are wading through so much grief while shouldering so many responsibilities, I just lost interest. A trip did not fix that her mother is gone. She cannot buy an identity or a way out of grief. Poor thing.

I bet the movie will be beautiful, though. Lots of great travel and food imagery (simple pleasures of being alive) along side cathartic processing of grief (deep pain of death) is the best of this book. It is like the balance she talks about in so many of her foods between salty, sweet, sour, and spicy. While writing this, I did also check out one song by Japanese Breakfast. Another thing I can sort of appreciate, but is not exactly to my taste.

Back Cover Blurb of The Only Woman in the Room by Marie Benedict:

She possessed a stunning beauty. She also possessed a stunning mind. Could the world handle both?  

Her beauty almost certainly saved her from the rising Nazi party and led to marriage with an Austrian arms dealer. Underestimated in everything else, she overheard the Third Reich’s plans while at her husband’s side, understanding more than anyone would guess. She devised a plan to flee in disguise from their castle, and the whirlwind escape landed her in Hollywood. She became Hedy Lamarr, screen star.  

But she kept a secret more shocking than her heritage or her marriage: She was a scientist. And she knew a few secrets about the enemy. She had an idea that might help the country fight the Nazis…if anyone would listen to her.  

“Rulers and movements may rise and fall, but the power of money always prevails,” Fritz said. While ostensibly a summary of some facet of Napoleonic history, it seemed a fitting statement of Fritz’s own political beliefs. Power, it seemed, was an end unto itself for Fritz.”

― Marie Benedict, The Only Woman in the Room

This book is the second I have read by Marie Benedict. I liked it better than The Other Einstein because I did not enjoy fictionalized accounts of Albert physically abusing his first wife. As far as I am aware, there is not confirmed evidence of this. He was a jerk for sure, as a romantic partner, but I’m still in a mindset that allegations of beating up your wife in front of your kids needs substantiated evidence, even if everyone in question are already dead. So, even though I liked learning about Mileva Marić, I was not wild about that book, but intrigued enough about the concept to try again.

I enjoyed The Only Woman in the Room more. I am reflecting on why I have an easier time accepting that Hedy Lemarr’s first husband, an arms dealer known as the merchant of death was controlling and abusive, but it seems pretty well documented that Hedy literally escaped him, so there is that. Anyway, it seems common for Benedict’s book to partially read like romance novels that devolve into abusive situations with a side of glossed over science. It was a digestible way to learn a lot more about an amazing woman. In theory, I love the idea of popularizing narratives of strong woman. In that vein, I like that Hedy ultimately triumphed, which is probably why I enjoyed her story over Marić’s. In some respects, it reminds me of the artist that drew strong women as Disney-style princesses in 2013.

When the princesses came out, I loved them. Now, I am older and my feelings are more complex, even when looking at it as satire. Benedict’s books might be a step in the direction of popularizing female scientists stories, but I don’t know if I will keep reading them.

Back Cover Blurb:

Somewhere out beyond the edge of the universe there is a library that contains an infinite number of books, each one the story of another reality. One tells the story of your life as it is, along with another book for the other life you could have lived if you had made a different choice at any point in your life. While we all wonder how our lives might have been, what if you had the chance to go to the library and see for yourself? Would any of these other lives truly be better?

In The Midnight Library, Matt Haig’s enchanting blockbuster novel, Nora Seed finds herself faced with this decision. Faced with the possibility of changing her life for a new one, following a different career, undoing old breakups, realizing her dreams of becoming a glaciologist; she must search within herself as she travels through the Midnight Library to decide what is truly fulfilling in life, and what makes it worth living in the first place.

I can see why this book is popular. It was quite easy to read. I haven’t heard of pop philosophy as its own category, but that is how I would characterize The Midnight Library. It has little gems of insight like saying the only way to learn is to live, which makes some reviewers think that this novel veers toward reading like a self-help book. While I acknowledge the fluff, it still had really beautiful moments and was fun. Sometimes warm fuzzies are what you are looking for. As such, I wish the author could have come to a similar premise without a suicide attempt.

Without access to my own magical Midnight Library, I already feel like I have tumbled through multiple lives in my time. It does not stop me from occasionally feeling stuck in a sub-optimal life sometimes, but I have learned that regardless of how I feel about a certain phase or season, it will pass. The idea that the loss of any greatness you might have seemed destined for in your youth is probably for the best is probably broadly appealing. Kind of interesting to have this message be delivered by what seems to me to be an internationally famous author.

One small detail that struck me as odd is how much Nora loves Henry David Thoreau. I still enjoy Thoreau’s quotes and appreciate his civil disobedience and awe of nature. Now that I am older, it is harder to take a man’s advice on self-reliance written when he lived in a friend’s cabin and had women attending to much of his cooking, cleaning, and laundry. I’d like to be that kind of “self-reliant” too. I have not met any women with deeper knowledge of philosophy that are Thoreau fans. If you are, please tell me why.