2021 #14: Clay's Ark (Butler)

 

Clay's Ark by Octavia E. Butler
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Reading this book was uncomfortable both in its 1980s sci-fi ethos and in reading it during a pandemic. That said, Butler's exploration of a tension between parasitism and symbiosis is really intriguing. I did find the character arcs to be on the weaker side, although the jumping between past and present is artfully done (and not gratuitous). The final showdown takes too long and seems sensationalist in its rampant violence, although I supposed there is a point to be made there. The humanity question is explored fairly well through some of the main protagonists, but one of the better aspects of the novel is that it redefines the protagonist role altogether. A worthwhile read, but I could have used more interrogation of the larger themes, and a little less sexual and bodily violence.

2021 #13: 10% Happier (Harris)

 

10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works by Dan Harris
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Truly this is more of a memoir than a self-help book and I was glad of that. Harris is witty, and although his adverse reactions to the "touchy-feely" stuff have become a bit of a schtick for him, his practical application of his own come to... Buddha?...moments, is inspiring for its realness. The book is structured really well as it follows Campbell's Hero's journey more or less, although notably cycling back through departure here and there.

I came to the book AFTER learning about the app, which I have used daily for over a year, on the recommendation of my best friend. I've just recently started engaging with the podcast. Normally I'd be cautious of the enterprise of it all, but I do think Harris has keyed into something really important here. Enlightenment is not the goal, but finding the benefits of--as chapter 10 so elegantly notes-- "not being a dick" is more healthy than you might think. Harris walks us through many of the "typical" meditation experiences: reading/meeting Eckhart Tolle, reading/meeting Deepak Chopra...and chapter 7 takes us along for his first multi-day meditation retreat. For folks who squirm at the mere thought of a meditation retreat--this chapter is for you--and no, not because it might sell you on the idea of going to a retreat (it probably won't).

Harris's casual style and humble honesty about his own struggles is very effective in helping craft something that isn't a typical self-help book, but instead one of those stories to which almost everyone can find a way to connect. Some of the best nuggets are not about meditation, but about life--whether it is getting glued back to his iPhone directly after the retreat ("The habits of a lifetime reassert themselves with astonishing speed...." (150)), or noting the 90% challenges ("The ego, that slippery son of a bitch, would use fatigue as an opportunity to sneak past my weakened defenses." (204)). Harris's own self-consciousness is the real delight and lesson here---the memoir is an exercise in mindfulness, albeit not of the present moment. But if we can learn to seek out clarity of what is happening in the present moment, it bodes well for the future that will inevitably see these presents as pasts.

2021 #12: The Peppermint Tea Chronicles (44 Scotland Street #13--McCall Smith)

 

The Peppermint Tea Chronicles by Alexander McCall Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

So, I did something I don't normally do -- I read a serial book out of order. I'm saying this upfront because I think it was a bit of a disservice to the book, but also, at the same time, it speaks well of the book that about halfway through, it didn't really matter any more.

So I had read Espresso Tales quite some time ago, without reading the first in the series and I can't really remember what impact that had on me [EDIT: in fact, I don't believe I DID read it -- see my review in 2025]. However, it does seem that my exposure to the characters in Volume 13 (The Peppermint Tea Chronicles) was less-than because I hadn't read 11 other volumes. I had relatively little interest in Bertie and his selfish mother, Matthew and Elspeth and their male au pair, or Angus and Domenica. However, I stuck with it and the characters who instantly drew me in were Big Lou and Ranald Braveheart Macpherson (maybe I have a bias for interesting names?). Of course I enjoyed the dry whimsy of Alexander McCall Smith's writing from the first pages, but it took me a bit to truly care.

But I'm glad I did--care, that is. For if I had not, I might have missed the stunning bits of subtext and commentary on our modern times. From Stuart's Portuguese shoes to a startling but overt reference to affirmative action polemics and class hierarchy in Chapter 58, I truly appreciated how McCall Smith creates figures that are representatives of something bigger than the story itself. Perhaps my biggest praise of this volume is that it has made it seem obvious and necessary that I must go back and read volumes 1-12. That is the best of all possible worlds for a book in a series.

On a side note, I would love to know more about the author's shoe...fixation? fascination? From Mma Makutsi in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series to Stuart in 44 Scotland Street series, it feels like there may be fodder for a deeper exploration of shoes-as-trope in the author's oeuvre.

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2021 #10: The New Taste of Chocolate (Presilla)

 

The New Taste of Chocolate, Revised: A Cultural & Natural History of Cacao with Recipes by Maricel E. Presilla
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I bought this book several years ago, along with a molinillo at a (then) small and artisanal chocolate maker in Somerville, MA. I was drawn in by the cover, and didn't really engage with it much before buying it, assuming it would be a "coffee-table" book with recipes. Instead, this is an extraordinary account of the different historical and cultural contexts of cacao, with a clear explanation of the different types of plants, provenances, and uses by chocolate makers. The level of detail, particularly in the botanical section, is extensive, and Presilla manages to find a great tone that strikes a balance between journalism and historiography. This is not a book for chocolate snobs who have no interest in the beginning and end of the journey of cacao. The author offers nuanced advice for how to learn about and appreciate chocolate and is even-handed in her assessments: "...today even the largest commercial makers have hopped on the bandwagon for boutique-type labeling with identification of national origin. This information is helpful to a point, but it is not an infallible clue to quality. The fact that the cacao was grown in an exotic-sounding country says very little about the cacao itself--for instance, the variety or the particular region of origin within a country" (140). Presilla honors the rich traditions of using cacao amongst indigenous peoples in Mexico and South America and provides a very informed cultural understanding of the import of cacao in both anti-colonial and colonial contexts.

And then there are the recipes. Admittedly, one will likely need access to high quality chocolate, nibs, and or cacao beans, but Presilla offers some online sources for purchase (I have not checked these out). The photography is gorgeous, and indeed...it will not be long before I try Maya-Mediterranean Chocolate Rice Pudding of her "Imagined" Maya Turkey Soup-Stew with Cacao and Chiles.

This is a remarkable book-- "illustrated reference" is the description on the dust jacket, but I think that does not adequately describe what it offers. If you have interests in global cuisine and a cultural history of food, this should be part of your library. Definitely one of the most interesting books I have read in the genre.

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2021 #9: The Midnight Library (Haig)

 

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

**** SPOILER ALERT*****

I wanted this to be a five-star rating after hearing so many good things about it. I found myself charmed by the premise, but ultimately it didn't really go where I thought it could/should, although the take-away "moral" of the story is a good one. I would have preferred that Nora actually LIVE the different lives, not just visit them--meaning I think it would have been a more creative endeavor if she wasn't cognizant of being in a parallel existence. I do understand that the cognizance was necessary for her learning (and for the end to work out), and maybe that's part of it. But from a purely literary point-of-view, I grew bored with the story of Nora trying to figure out who she was in this or that life, although, as I said, the allegory is not lost on me.

The book has an important message to share, and as all good fiction does, it asks the reader to situate themselves if the shoes of the protagonist. Perhaps what is most important is thinking about suicide and all the many factors that can influence a person's actions and how we are so often just bystanders to the struggle of others.

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2021 #8: Radical Hope -- A Teaching Manifesto (Gannon)

 

Radical Hope: A Teaching Manifesto by Kevin M. Gannon
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I first became aware of this book via a UDL (Universal Design for Learning) podcast. Kevin Gannon seemed to balance the feel-good hopefulness with both pragmatic and practical information, and this proved to be true in this teaching "manifesto." In truth, the "manifesto-ish" parts could use a sharper editorial pen in places, but there are so many worthwhile pull quotes, I can forgive the bits of er...emphatic repetition. The real overarching concept here is that education should be transformational, not transactional. Is that revolutionary thought? No, of course not. But what Gannon so skillfully achieves is helping the interested teacher remember WHY that's important and to help that teacher feel motivated to make it happen--otherwise known as HOPE.

There is a lot of radical hope in this book--for students, for teachers, for education as a field. But it isn't all about inspiration. Gannon substantively brings in pedagogical theory, addresses praxis (a la Paolo Freire, and offers opportunities for reflection (freewriting, journaling) as well as suggestions for real-life application. Chapter 1, dramatically titled "Classrooms of Death" (I may have rolled my eyes), explains that a pedagogy of radical hope includes a "moral imperative to create the type of inclusive and equitable learning spaces in which our students become critically conscious and actively engaged in their own education"(23). I always cringe when I see the words "moral imperative" because as most of us know, that is hardly a monolithic concept for us humans. But I think Gannon's use of such weighty language here serves its purpose--this isn't just headwork, but instead also very much heart-work. This is work that asks for a reinvestment and a revitalization of student-centered pedagogy. Middle chapters provide information about UDL and how to implement it, as well as constructing "a syllabus worth reading" (Chapter 7). Chapter 8, however, is where I really started to connect. Even just the chapter's title -- "Pedagogy is not a weapon"--really grabbed me in some visceral way. It isn't that I should need a reminder of that, but it did drive home how easily weaponized pedagogy can become. The chapter focuses on the purpose and value of the transformative work. Particularly helpful is Gannon's discussion of "Safe Spaces and Trigger Warnings", which he more aptly advocates as brave spaces and content warnings. He invites the reader to consider these things as "pedagogical tools that allow for genuine engagement and confrontation with ideas and material" (113) and posits that they are a necessity in providing the required structure and support for that engagement and confrontation. One of my favorite quotes? "You may think you're being clever by utilizing shock value as a teaching tool, but more likely you're just being an asshole" (113).

We all seem to collectively agree that being an asshole is not sound pedagogy, yet--there's a lot of asshole moves out there in the teaching world. Sometimes it is a lack of recognizing the immense privilege we might hold in teaching spaces. Sometimes it is brought on by the "performative aspect of academic conversations" (133) and severe cases of imposter syndrome. But whatever it is, ultimately Gannon says teachers must see themselves as collaborators, rather than occupying "opposite points of some academic spectrum" (146).

The pandemic has many teachers feeling beaten down after what has inarguably been an extremely challenging and tiring year. Exhaustion rarely leads to active and inspired change. But Gannon manages--in a mere 152 (small) pages--to not only light the spark, but offers ways to take steps forward. "Manifesto" is perhaps a disservice here because what Gannon really provides is a hand, a ready assist for those who may feel a bit lost when charged to "decolonize" or "diversify" or "unlearn". These are valuable aspects of the work, yes, but all too often radicalized to the point of becoming just another academic, performative contest. The real radical idea, it turns out, is in the hope that "eschews despair, but does so in a way that often relies upon the faith that our current thinking and actions will create a better future--even without understanding what that future will look like" (4). Radical hope means we see teaching as a lively, dynamic commitment to the ongoing and sustained work of student-centered praxis, naming and demolishing systems of inequity, and employing an "emancipatory pedagogical vision" (150) in what is routine and mundane, as well as that which is unexpected and extraordinary.

2021 # 7: The Valley of Horses (Auel)

 

The Valley of Horses by Jean M. Auel
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Spoilers only if you haven't read publisher summary/back of the book.

This honestly sits between two and four stars for me, and I had a similar ambivalence toward The Clan of the Cave Bear. As with the first book, there are many, many, many passages that are chockfull of anthropological detail and that is either a blessing or a curse, depending on the reader's mindset. What is positive is that Ayla gets a lot more character definition here simply by spending a few years by herself--we learn of her survival and adaptation and in so doing, get to know here more as a character, rather than a symbol of human development. But there are places where it starts to feel like a field guide to surviving alone in a cave, and this can be tedious if making fire with flint and dehydrating meat aren't your favorite pastimes.

The first 300 pages (or so) feature two storylines, and if you read the back cover blurb, you know that they will at some point join each other. This expectation marred the book for me somewhat as 300 pages was too long to wait, but not long enough for me to care enough about the characters other than Ayla. This isn't necessarily a fault of the book, but I wish I hadn't read the blurb. What's more, when the two storylines do...merge....there is, well... A LOT of sex. All of a sudden Call of the Wild turns into a Harlequin Romance. Seemingly, when not hunting, copulation is the no. 1 choice of activity. I'm not bothered by the vivid descriptions as much as it becomes the substantial narrative of the book and distracts from the far more interesting struggle of Ayla's sense of cultural identity. This struggle, through conversation with Jondalar, was for me, the most interesting part of the book, and the commentary on racism and bigotry, although rather obvious, is important for our historical and present consciousness.

The book could be shorter to be sure...trying to maintain the narrative of a journey in one storyline, and a survival epic in another, is a challenge. There are multiple tribes of folks to keep track of, and Auel describes everything with assiduous detail. Just as you get hooked on the secondary storyline, however, she whisks you back to "meanwhile...back at the ranch..", ok....cave. If you really enjoyed Clan of the Cave Bear, this is a worthwhile sequel. Ultimately, however, it tries to be a lot of different things, and not always successfully. I'm intrigued enough to read The Mammoth Hunters in the hope that it gets more into the anthropological differences and socialization aspects promised by the preview. But ultimately, not every book has to be a "saga" and I feel the self-conscious attempts by the author to be "epic" diminish a lot of what is valuable in these books.