"They sound “awful” – sloppy, hitting wrong notes everywhere, missing cues – and positively, absolutely From a Creem magazine article, September 1986:
"They sound “awful” – sloppy, hitting wrong notes everywhere, missing cues – and positively, absolutely wonderful. (...) On this particular night, the Replacements are one of the greatest rock’n’roll bands in the universe."
Fair warning: this might be more of a crazed fangirl raving than a proper review, but if you’ve known me a while, that’s what I tend to do with books about music and bands. If you don’t mind, read on. If that annoys you, skip to the final paragraph, just before the quotes.
My husband and I are both music nerds; it was one of the first things we bonded over when we first met, and finding new music and introducing it to each other is still something we love to do. We get all excited and make each other playlists, like teenage dorks. There have been hits (Geoff Berner and Full Bush are household favorites) and misses (he still doesn’t get Laura Stevenson, and I’ll never love Helmet; c’est la vie), but last fall, Jason listened to the No Dogs in Space podcast (if you are a music nerd, especially an alternative and punk nerd, you should be listening to No Dogs in Space) series about the Replacements and he almost lost his mind. It was obvious that he'd run into something very, very special. He made me a playlist, we binged the podcast during our Christmas Montreal-Rochester drive, and I immediately became equally obsessed with this weird, and inexplicably not world-famous band from Minnesota. Late to the party is sort of my M.O., and in my defence, I was born the year they released "Let It Be"...
But I have to say, I am borderline furious that this music was out there literally my entire life, and I just found out about it, like… a few months ago! The only people I knew who had heard of them were my Gen X music nerd friends, and not even all of them! As the band Art Brut so eloquently put it in their song ‘The Replacements’:
“I can't believe I've only just discovered the Replacements How have I only just found out about the Replacements? Some of them are nearly as old as my parents How have I only just found out about the Replacements?”
In all my books on the history of punk (and I have a lot of those!), I have only found one that bothers to mention the Replacements and I was wondering why that was. Until I read this book... Now, it makes a little bit more sense. Still, kudos to Brian Cogan for having an (albeit small) entry about them in his “Punk Encyclopedia”.
The Replacements came to be in Minneapolis in 1978, when Paul Westerberg somehow took over the Stinson brothers’ band Dogbreath, installed himself as the lead singer, changed the band’s name and influenced the sound and feel of the music by giving the rest of the band some punk records. So while they started out as a punk band, they quickly felt limited by the scene’s ‘standards’ and their sound quickly evolved into something very stylistically diverse and nuanced – but their reputation as a loose cannon live act soon preceded them: they would either be unbelievably brilliant on stage, or too wasted to play properly – and they sometimes deliberately ruined their own sets to antagonize the crowd if they didn’t like their vibe. They were contemporaries of Hüsker Dü and R.E.M. but never managed to get anywhere near their level of fame and success because they were too dysfunctional as a band to do what needed to be done for their careers to truly take off (my favorite description of them is 'the little engine that could but didn't fucking feel like it') – while simultaneously/accidentally cultivating a rabid fanbase who adored them for their antics almost as much as for their music. Their way of doing things was unsustainable, and after many ups, downs, firing, re-hiring and re-firing, the band called it quits in 1991 and eventually did a brief reunion tour around 2013 before parting ways yet again. They are now the stuff of underground music legends, a band of incredible talent that got in its own way at every turn, which has given them a powerful and enduring mystique.
I have read a ton of rock biographies in my life, and very often, what happens with those books is that they are either hagiographies written by devoted fans who won’t address the dark or weird sides of the artists they write about, or the pacing is terrible because they get mired in irrelevant details and make you feel like you are reading an extremely long and badly written Wikipedia article. Both of those kinds of rock bios drive me nuts, and I was a bit nervous about this one, but I shouldn’t have fretted: Bob Mehr is a fan, but he is also a great music journalist (and talented writer, I might add), and he talked with the former/surviving band members themselves (except Chris Mars, who declined to be involved in the project), as well as over 200 people who had known them or worked with them in some capacity. I'll join the chorus of people who say this is the best rock bio they have ever read: there wasn't a page of this door-stopper that didn't knock me on my ass.
Reading this book, one quickly learns that to love the Replacements means you have to be willing to embrace chaos and the fucked-up sides of these four contrarian weirdos. And yes, there are descriptions of some pretty epically dickish behavior in this book, but I have long stopped expecting musicians to behave much differently, especially when there is booze or drugs involved, so it didn’t really spoil my enjoyment of the book – or taint my opinion of the guys themselves. You are telling me that Paul Westerberg, who might be the most brilliant songwriter of his generation, is a jerk? Color me shocked… If anything, the generalized messiness makes the story of the band even more compelling than it would have been, had those guys not been fucked up contrarians of the finest kind.
Since the podcast used this book as one of its primary sources, a lot of the stories here were familiar, but it was wonderful to revisit them and get more details about the greatest rock band who ever failed at making it big. Their story is equal parts hilarious ("I'm not complaining, Jim, but I'm just curious: how DID they get the vomit on the ceiling?") and tragic, so it’s an interesting experience to go from one extreme emotion to another while learning about their lives. If the band had been less wasted and more willing to compromise even a little bit, I am convinced that they would have been huge, because their talent is mind-blowing – even when they were trashed out of their minds – but that didn’t happen both because of their behavior and because of some truly shit luck.
If there is any real takeaway from their story, it’s that nothing is quite as simple as just playing the game or sticking to your principles while navigating the treacherous waters of the recording industry. I read an article that describes Paul Westerberg as someone who skipped being a star on his way to becoming a legend, and I seriously can’t think of a better way to put it. Whether that was by design or not is an interesting question, given that the band refused to pander to anyone – the audience, record label people, anyone who could have helped, really! The self-sabotage is truly impressive, in a shattering sort of way, but I am quite certain that fame and fortune would not have exorcised any of those men’s demons. In fact, I am shocked at how brutal and bleak their pre-band lives were, and I have come to believe that their music was their literal salvation – I am not sure any of them would have made it past thirty if they hadn’t taken this road. Not that it ended well for everyone… One could argue that the story of the Replacements is also a really upsetting case study about of how toxic masculinity hurts men.
In fact, this is something very special about this particular rock bio: most books like this describe their subjects’ horrible behavior, sure, but few bother to tell the readers where this behavior comes from. And these guys had it rough from the get-go. Bob Stinson suffered horrific abuse at his stepfather’s hands on top of untreated mental illness, and his entire adult life was heart-breaking. All four of the band members suffered head injuries in their early years and there was generational alcoholism and untreated trauma, depression, and anxiety disorders all over their backgrounds. It doesn’t really excuse things, of course, but at least there is some context to make sense of the deviant behaviors and reckless shenanigans that made them famous and simultaneously tanked their rock star dreams.
I think that this may be why people who love them feel so passionately about them: their music is not the only thing about them that indicates that they felt alienation in such a visceral way, and anyone who has ever felt that in their own lives gets tremendous comfort from their art, but also, simply, from their existence. I know I’m very new here, in the Replacements fan demographic, but I totally get why people who love this band are as rabidly obsessed as they are. Reading about all the adversity and madness they endured actually made me admire them even more than I would have just from listening to the records - especially since I now have the stories behind every song, making them even more impactful when I listen to them.
I will not repeat every insane anecdote documented here, but this is almost 500 pages of delightful and often horrifying stories (including the best groupie story I have ever read), and I can’t help but admire the pure panache with which these guys did their thing. It was snotty, irresponsible, and unhealthy, but I wanted to clap enthusiastically at their antics all the time. They might have stopped playing punk, but they never stopped being punk, and I love them for it so fucking much.
Discovering them and falling in love with their music so long after their active years is an interesting process. In some ways, it feels like I accidentally joined a weird underground cult. I will always be mad I wasn’t the right age (or, you know, born) when bands like the Clash, the Cramps and Black Flag were at their zenith, and now we can add the Replacements to the list of bands I’d catch live if I ever get access to a time machine (please ping me if you have a time machine). It's often stunning to listen to their records, look at the dates and then realize that without the Replacements, there would be no Pixies, and no Nirvana... Actually, one could even argue that plenty of rockers who came to fame in the 90s worked decently hard at sounding, looking and behaving a bit (or a lot!) like Paul Westerberg. I have been looking through my music collection and I see the influence of the 'Mats in general, and of Westerberg specifically, on some of my favorite albums and tracks and it makes me laugh (I also found out I had been listening to one of his songs, ‘Stain Yer Blood’, since grade school – long story – and I had no idea who he was this whole time!). I might have just discovered them a few months ago, but in a weird way, they sounded familiar because they were… kind of everywhere, albeit indirectly (for instance, I just realized my Thomas Ligotti short story collection’s cover art was made by Chris Mars, WTF!).
If you like the band, read this book. If you enjoy rock bios, read this book - it’s truly a masterclass on writing about musicians. If you have never heard of the Replacements before, get a copy of "Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out the Trash", "Stink", “Hootenanny”, “Let It Be”, “Tim” and “Pleased to Meet Me” (I actually recommend getting the entire discography, but those records are the core classics) and read this book. Preferably while wearing your rattiest flannel shirt. This book reconnected me to the feeling that made me want to make music in the first place, and that's a treasure of a feeling.
A few quotes:
“Replacements partisans were, on the whole, literate, dark-humored, and a bit confused about their place in the world. They weren’t the go-getters or yuppie types, but they weren’t hopeless wastrels either. They were, Tommy Stinson would note, ‘more like us than they fuckin’ knew. They didn’t really fit anywhere. They probably didn’t aspire to a whole lot, but they also didn’t aspire to doing nothing either. That’s the kind of fan we probably appealed to most: the people that were in the gray area. Just like us.’”
“Still, Westerberg never took the power of his songs, his ability to connect with listeners, for granted. ‘People always come up and say, “You wrote this just for me,” he noted. ‘And I say, “Yeah, I did. I don’t know you, but I knew you were out there.”’
"'He [Bob Dylan] just walked in and started talking to the band,' recalled engineer Cliff Norrell. 'He was saying, "My kid loves you; my son's really into your band." You could see their eyes light up, and then Dylan goes, "You're R.E.M., right?"'"
"Davino [touring sound technician] gamely battled the band's ridiculous volume. "You always heard that Motorhead was the loudest band ever, and I used to say bullshit. Motorhead was pussies compared to dese (sic) guys.""
"Tommy would tell reporters he found it far easier to work with his current bandmate in Guns N' Roses than his old Replacements partner. "He keeps pulling out the 'Paul Westerberg's more difficult to deal with than Axl Rose' line," said Westerberg. "And I think, 'Yeah, of course. Wouldn't Van Gogh be more difficult than Norman Rockwell?'"...more
You know how sometimes you get the wrong book at the wrong time? Well, this was the perfect book at the perfect time. And I am so, so grateful for it.You know how sometimes you get the wrong book at the wrong time? Well, this was the perfect book at the perfect time. And I am so, so grateful for it.
Let me preface this review with some context: I generally do not like romance. I can count on the fingers of one hand the literary romances I actually got invested in. And this book is one of them. My husband who hates romances even more than I do read "Paladin's Grace" right before I did and he loved it too! My point is: do not write this book off on the label. Maybe it's because the lovebirds are middle aged, grumpy and damaged, and dance around each other hesitantly in a very realistic way? I just found their awkwardness so relatable (as was Grace's blurting of inappropriate things) and I basically spent the first half of the book shaking it and yelling "KISS HER, YOU SILLY TWAT!" at it.
Right, I should talk about the story!
Stephen was a paladin of the Saint of Steel, a god of war; then one day, his god died, sending his entire order into chaos and disarray. Many of them ended up dead. He and six other paladins survived and are being housed and looked after by the Order of the White Rat (basically religious bureaucrats, but kind and efficient - so it's definitely fantasy). They do some work as bodyguards, but mainly spend their time trying to heal and feel less broken. One day, after an assignment, Stephen is on his way home when he accidentally rescues a woman being chased by some rather annoying fanatics who think she's a witch. What she actually is is a perfumer, with a crummy past of her own she is trying to move past. This lovely but lonely woman, Grace, and Stephen develop a friendship that's 95% pining for each other awkwardly. But things come to a head (pun intended if you've read the book) when they get caught up in a weird conspiracy as a series of strange murders keep happening in the background.
Here are my two relatively small complaints about the book: the pacing in the first half is much slower than the second half, which suddenly kicks into high speed and makes the book impossible to put down. I was not quite prepared for that. I would have also loved a bit more world-building at the beginning, because I am quite curious about all the different weird gods and their weird organization.
But really, those are minor quibbles because this was just so much fun. Stephen and his siblings in arms are wonderful, and I loved how Kingfisher drew up former military characters dealing with PTSD in such a sensitive and compassionate way. Grace's post-divorce damage is handled with equal finesse and is also quite realistic. In fact, most of the characters and their conversations feel incredibly real, and I loved it. I also dig Kingfisher's humor: dry and just dark and bleak enough, and it permeates the story, making it impossible for me to find a page that did not make me smile.
I was going to give it 4 stars because of the aforementioned issues, but considering this book was just what I needed and exactly when I needed it, fuck it, I'm rounding it up to 5. And I'm hunting down the rest of the series....more
I am currently working on a writing project heavily influenced by Lovecraft’s work, and I have been consuming Lovecraftiana very voraciously as a resuI am currently working on a writing project heavily influenced by Lovecraft’s work, and I have been consuming Lovecraftiana very voraciously as a result. I had heard very good things about “Providence”, and since I am quite fond of Alan Moore’s work, it was a must on my research-reading list. The back summary sets-up a very high bar by describing it, in content and scope, as the “Watchmen” of horror comics, and you know what, I think that is an accurate assessment! I think that I may even have *gasp* liked it better than “Watchmen”! Bleeding Cool called it a ‘Unified Theory of Lovecraft Stories’ and that is the best summary I can imagine, but here goes my version and thoughts anyway.
The story, set in 1919, follows New York Herald journalist Robert Black as he conducts research for a book he is writing on the hidden side of American society, more precisely, the occult side, which he believes responsible for the death by suicide of his former lover. But Mr. Black quickly finds himself in way over his head as he follows increasingly bizarre leads through isolated parts of New England.
What Moore did here is what he is annoyingly good at, which is take a thing he loves (in this case, Lovecraft), break it and build it back in a way only someone who understands how the inner elements all fit together can do. He weaves elements of HP’s work, whether we are talking about locations, content of some stories, props, characters, so on and so forth, and rearranged them as if they were a part of American history, following in the footsteps of a common opinion that Lovecraft was the first inherently American writer (dixit S.T. Joshi). The result is a baroque and layered story of slow descent into madness that also offers a virulent critique of society (it is an Alan Moore book, after all, but more on that later), as well as an interesting perspective on how stories are built and the way they become an inextricable part of our lives.
The main character’s incredible naiveté serves as a fantastic vehicle for Moore’s rather odd (but generally delightful) sense of humor, as poor Mr. Black marches blindly into the weirdest situations without ever feeling like sinister things are afoot (PSA: if someone’s house smells like embalming fluid and they don’t have taxidermy all over the place, maybe don’t spend the night there), and then, well… crazy shit happens! I did really appreciate the character’s casual bisexuality (he prefers men, but still chases the occasional skirt when the mood strikes), something that’s not always common in fiction, and I am just pleased with the representation. That said, the sex scenes in this book are consistent with most of the sex depicted in Moore’s other work, i.e. they are off-putting as fuck, and not sexy.
(Permit me to say here, as an aside, that I am bothered with Moore’s fascination with rape, because I struggle to think of any of his major work where a female character isn’t sexually assaulted. It happens in “Watchmen”, it happens in “The Killing Joke”, it happens in “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”, it happens here in “Providence”, it happens in “Neonomicon”, and “Lost Girls” features a lot of sexually abusive situations – I legitimately don’t remember if there’s a rape in “V for Vandetta”, but I feel like there probably is? As a plot device, it makes me cringe, even when it is coherent to the narrative, and yep, I’m aware of how common it is, and that rape culture is likely to get worse over the next few years, but god fucking damn it, I’m tired of seeing it used as a narrative device in graphic novels – or novels, period. I don’t think that Moore is a rape apologist, because those acts are always shown as horrific and traumatic, but it still feels weird to me when male writers use female suffering and violence against women for storytelling purposes when this is not something they can truly understand or sympathize with – even when it serves a specific purpose in the plot, I struggle to shake off the feeling of exploitation and voyeurism. I am not the only one who noticed this pattern, obviously, because a quick internet search turned out a ton of academic articles on this topic but thank you for listening to my rant.)
Moore is also really brilliant when it comes to structure: we have the traditional graphic novel chapters with beautifully arranged panels, intersected with the notes from Black’s commonplace book, which give the reader an alternate narrative, and a glimpse of what is actually going on behind his affable, extremely polite persona. This makes the panels the objective version of events as they unfold, and the notebook is the way Black rationalizes the weird and often frightening things he experiences, making the combination brilliantly metafictional. Some people might find those long pages of solid text annoying, but I always looked forward to them, because they really enrich the action seen in the previous pages and chronicle his downward spiral in a fascinating way.
I’ve had mixed experience with the way Moore’s graphic novels are illustrated, but I absolutely loved the art in “Providence”. Jacen Burrows has also worked with Warren Ellis and Garth Ennis, and he really understands what these weirdos with bleak imaginations and dark sensibilities are trying to convey. The lines are clear and crips, the colors chosen very carefully, and the incredible details made me get lost in the illustrations many times. I often actually wished I had a magnifying glass as I read, to take an even closer look, because every stroke of the pen here is deliberate and relevant to the story, even if only as an Easter egg for particularly maniacal Lovecraft fans.
In the chapters where our hapless Mr. Black meets the real-life Howard Phillips Lovecraft, the way he changes his mind about him when he realizes the prejudices the author holds is clever, and not really virtue-signaling (that doesn’t strike me as Moore’s style): it’s more of a way to illustrate the socio-historical context in which Lovecraft lived, and how easy it was back then to rationalize those horrible ideas (because ultimately, Lovecraft thought of himself as a realist and rational, scientifically-minded person). I read it as a comment about HPL’s legacy, and as a reminder that ascribing modern sensibilities to artists and the art they created long ago is tricky.
Which leads me to the following point. Moore reclaims Lovecraftian horror, even for those its creator did not care for. Having a gay Jewish man as a lead character is an obvious thumbing of his nose at HPL, but he doesn’t stop at that. The secret occult society of Stella Sapiente is composed of old white dudes who exploits those they deem inferior for their own ends, and they identify those people based on the old classics: skin tone, gender, sexual preferences, and perceived intelligence. The 12 issues that make up the ”Providence Compendium” were released between 2015 and 2017, and some of the socio-political commentary Moore weaved in there is even more relevant now than it was then: the rampant misogyny, racism and utterly fucked up ideas about sexuality seems to be more obvious than ever in our political landscape, and the abstract horrors controlled by a handful of old white dudes are very much part of reality, even if they are not tentacular.
I think that if you enjoy Lovecraftian horror, this is a must read, especially since the more you know about Lovecraft’s work, the more enjoyable this book is. But it would probably bore people who don’t gel with HPL’s style of ineffable and cosmic scaries. It’s just not everyone’s cup of tea. If you are a horror nerd, it’s a delight to go through this book and pick apart the many (and layered) references to all of Lovecraft’s major stories. It is also just a stunning work of meta-fiction that Moore fans should have on their shelves. For my part, I loved every page and will definitely be revisiting this one, probably often, given my project! It was a pleasure to read and an incredible source of inspiration.
I had a few low days a couple weeks ago, and on a whim, I downloaded the new BBC adaptation of “The Pursuit of Love”, starring the ever-adorable Lily I had a few low days a couple weeks ago, and on a whim, I downloaded the new BBC adaptation of “The Pursuit of Love”, starring the ever-adorable Lily James, and I am happy to report that it was just the pick-me-up I needed (and I adored the anachronistic soundtrack!). Funny, silly, romantic and tender, it’s just a romantic comedy on the surface. But just underneath that, it’s a story about the importance of friendship and also about how difficult, confusing and frustrating love can be. It also takes not-so-gentle jabs at the way the upper middle class behaved during the inter-war era, and stomps joyfully on the stereotype of sexless Englishness. I happened to find a copy of a collection of three novels by Nancy Mitford and cracked it open as soon as I got it home. I wanted a larger dose of that effervescent story-telling.
I wondered, as I read, how I would have reacted to this book had I read it when I was much younger. Being way past the “Bolter” phase of my life, it makes me smile and think of past misadventures with a little wistfulness – but I imagine that at 15 or 16, I would have wanted to be Linda so bad. Maybe it’s better for everyone that I read it at 36 instead…
"The Pursuit of Love", in case you didn't know, is the story of a girl with wildly romantic ideas who wants a great love story, like the one she’s read about in books, and who, not unlike Emma Bovary, is often disappointed in this quest. But she has more pluck than Emma, and she carries on despite her disappointments. Beware of spoilers from here on.
Linda has an eccentric upbringing in a large Oxfordshire estate, ruled over by a belligerent father and a slightly checked-out mother, with a whole brood of siblings who can't wait to get away. Her best friend and confident is her cousin Fanny, our narrator. Fanny's mother, known simply as The Bolter (as she bolts from one marriage to another - and I love that they never even call her by her name, and simply address her as Bolter) is largely absent, but her shadow and reputation hang over Linda, who ends up on a path not that different from her aunt's.
She marries the first man she falls in love with, the arrogant and borish Tory Tony, with whom she has a child she can't stand. She eventually leaves him for Christian, an ardent Communist who struggles with his affection for her, as his mind is constantly on the welfare of People in general. After following him to help out with the Spanish Civil War refugees in the South of France, she realizes he will never love her the way her romantic nature demands, and decides to go home. But on her way to London, she will meet the aloof but irresistible Fabrice de Sauveterre...
I was very struck by the hilariously inadequate upbringing all the Radlett children are put through. No wonder none of them ever make a single reasonable decision about their lives! And as written with Mitford's sparkling wit, all the supporting characters are wonderfully endearing: I loved crazy Uncle Matthew, eccentric Lord Merlin and hypochondriac Davey so much! Their quirks make them seem larger than life, but they also feel quite real: knowing what we know about the real life of the Mitford clan, I suspect they are based on very real relatives of Nancy's...
This book is like one of those adorable little mini bottles of champagne: it's a delight you can almost swallow in one gulp and it will leave you giddy and wanting more. I adored it, and I suspect I will pick it up again next time I crave a quick shot of loveliness....more
“Do you think it’s possible for something beautiful to come out of an awful thing?”
Holy. Cow.
I had seen this book bounce around my GR feed for a while“Do you think it’s possible for something beautiful to come out of an awful thing?”
Holy. Cow.
I had seen this book bounce around my GR feed for a while. It had caught my eye because of the title: I do love lake monster stories, but I think I was a bit miffed this wasn’t a compendium of such stories, and ignored it for a bit. Then, I saw Laird Barron blurbed it, and because I am basically a sucker for books my favorite authors recommend, I put a copy on my Spooktober pile. And now I am sitting here, a little stunned and in awe of the beautiful writing and bone-chilling stories I have just read.
I love that Ballingrud only gives his readers a tiny glimpse of the supernatural in these stories: monsters are scary, sure, but the fucked up things that dwell in the human heart and mind are way, way more terrifying – and he knows that. His protagonists are usually the working poor that America wishes it could hide better, and the bleak lives they lead, where desperation and fear pushes them into the darkest corners of their being. What is a monster, really, if not a person who’s humanity was stripped away slowly over time until they can’t even see themselves as human anymore?
As pointed out by some reviews, there is a recurring theme of masculinity, or rather what does it mean to be a man in some extreme circumstances: aren't they supposed to be strong, to protect, care for and provide for their families and friends? What does it mean when they can't do that?
The prose is beautiful, the atmosphere of each story cloying and claustrophobic, the characters' anxieties palpable, the open endings deeply unsettling. Thank god these are short stories, because dragging them on any longer would give you road rash. If you like bleak stories, existential horror and enjoy the kind of stuff that Thomas Ligotti, Laird Barron and John Langan write, do yourself a favor, and get a copy of this book immediately. 5 dark, devastating stars.
**
I watched the Hulu series "Monsterland", based on and inspired by the stories in this collection, and if you enjoyed this book, you should definitely check it out. There are few exact adaptations to the stories ("You Go Where it Takes You" and "The Good Husband" are adapted fairly faithfully), but the other episodes are just as powerful, bleak and disturbing as the Ballingrud's writing. The use of the supernatural as a simple highlight of the human monsters is used skillfully in every episode, from the one about how easy it is to radicalize disenfranchised young people online to the one about the oil magnate responsible for a devastating spill. The villains are human, and the creatures are only there to make them realize it. This show is not always easy to watch (it gets graphic and some of the situations are incredibly depressing) but it is beautiful in the same way these short stories are, because they are raw and intense and force you to think....more
I met Thomas Senlin earlier this year (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), and while I didn’t think much of him at first, he quickly became oneI met Thomas Senlin earlier this year (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), and while I didn’t think much of him at first, he quickly became one of the most remarkable protagonists I have come across in a long time. I gave up on the reading list I had drafted for myself at the beginning of the year, and I am now treating myself to books I have been excited about for a while, so I figured I’d go and see what the headmaster-turned-thief-turned-accountant-turned-pirate was up to in the second tome of Josiah Bancroft’s “Books of Babel” series.
Just like “Senlin Ascends”, this is a book that is much more enjoyable if you go in with as little information as possible, so I’ll keep the details of the story to a minimum. Thomas has changed the name he goes by and his occupation, but he is still on a quest to find Marya, his wife whom he lost in the crowd at the base of the tower on the very first day of their honeymoon. He’s had to adapt, but his wit, good manners and ingenuity have gotten him much further than he could have expected: along with the friends he has made so far in his journey, he has gotten quite good at the air-ship pirate life. But not everything is smooth-sailing: he suffers the lingering side-effects of a previous misadventure, and soon, an accident forces him and his crew to pay a visit to an mythical inhabitant of the Tower, the Sphinx.
This book expands on the universe created by Bancroft, but also give the reader the benefit of other points of view: Senlin's crew have important parts to play in his story and their characters are fleshed out and deepened beautifully in "The Arm of the Sphinx", a title that turns out to have multiple meanings.
If you enjoy urban fantasy, creative world-building and intricate story-telling, you should definitely add Josiah Bancroft's series to your shelves. 4 and a half stars, rounded up....more
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. On that road I saw a pale man... and he smiled at me."
Thanks to Todd PhHappy Valentines Day, Puddin'!
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. On that road I saw a pale man... and he smiled at me."
Thanks to Todd Philips’ “Joker”, my obsession with my beloved Mr. J has gotten seriously out of control in late 2019. I even started watching “Gotham” and fell head over heels for the Valeska twins (because two Jokers are better than one… and I love me a ginger with a wicked grin!). So, needless to say, I was waiting for my copy of “Harleen” to be delivered with bathed breath. And let me tell you, this book does for Harley what Todd Philips did for Joker: it makes her human.
Heavily inspired by the classic “Mad Love” origin story, Stjepan Šejic took the character of Harley Quinn (or rather, Dr. Harleen Quinzel) and re-imagined her slow descent into madness and criminality as seen through her own eyes. So in some ways, it is the old familiar story, but in other ways, it’s a brand new one. Šejic’s artwork is incredibly gorgeous and crisp - and it’s about time someone drew up a sexy Joker for the freaks like me who are out there! In their novelization (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), Paul Dini and Pat Cadigan tried to flesh out Harley’s background to help the reader understand how an otherwise smart girl could have succumbed to the emotional manipulation the Joker inflicted on her – and they succeeded, but only up to a point. Šejic takes things a little further in “Harleen”; he makes it all several shades darker, a lot less cartoonish, and it’s perfect - in a heartbreaking sort of way.
Dr. Quinzel’s approach to mental illness is unusual: she believes criminally insane people develop such behaviors as survival mechanisms – to the amusement of her colleagues and the medical community in general. There isn’t much room for compassion in psychiatry, apparently, but despite the establishment’s skepticism, she is given a grant from Wayne Enterprises and is permitted to study some of the “patients” incarcerated at Arkham Asylum. And sooner or later, that means speaking to the Joker, the notorious criminal who she had a traumatic experience with in the past. As he puts it himself, the Joker may be crazy, but he's not stupid, so when an emotionally isolated woman who genuinely wants to help him steps into his cross-hair, he "allows" her to help - though not quite the way she thought she'd be helping.
Besides the classic tale of "girl falls for the wrong guy and can't get away", there's a lot of interesting elements in this comic, mainly the idea of people's dark side, staying just out of sight under a respectable face and demeanor. This is not new territory when it comes to Joker stories either; the famous "Killing Joke" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) is all about that idea that it only takes one bad day to push a normal person into absolute lunacy, not to mention the idea that Batman isn't exactly sane either, but I enjoyed the way Šejic approached it.
Very importantly, the abusive nature of the relationship between Harley and the Joker is never glamorized in "Harleen": if anything, its always very unsettling, as Harley is pushed into a desperate place where the only hand extended towards her belongs to someone who almost killed her… You see both the horror and the tragic inevitability of her fall. I joke a lot about having the hots for Jeremiah Valeska (and I do; I need help!), but making abusive dynamics like the Joker and Harley’s look romantic is a really, really bad idea – so I appreciate that Šejic made his Harley both aware of how wrong her situation is, while also showing that she feels powerless to escape it.
This is my kind of graphic novel (and possibly the best Batman universe graphic novel I've ever read): nuanced, gritty, gorgeously illustrated, with a fun and challenging story about a flawed but very human character. Every fan of Harley and the Joker needs this on their shelf. All the stars and then some! More like this, please, Mr. Šejic!
Greenwood and I are almost the same age, and come from very similar backgrounds (I believe she refers to her parents as reformed hippies, which is an excellent way of describing my parents as well…), and I was very curious to get her perspective of Zen practice, because while I did not have the resources to go gallivanting in India and Japan in my twenties, her path is one I would have liked to walk myself.
I admit that I started reading this with mixed feelings: sure, Greenwood’s experience sounded fascinating, but I can’t deny I was a bit jealous of it, of the opportunities for traveling and for experiencing monastic life that she’d had. I was also a bit afraid that this would be an "Eat, Pray and Love" kind of mess. But my apprehensions were quickly dissipated: her tone is friendly, approachable but also very humble and well-aware that she was in many ways, very privileged. She wrote the book with enough maturity to look back on it and see how it influenced her perspective – both in terms of cultural shock, personal neuroses and in regards to her youth.
If you have read Greenwood’s blog “That’s So Zen”, some of the material in the book will be familiar to you, as she used some of the posts as launching pads for deeper exploration of many topics. In fact, many chapters are essentially copy-paste of some old blog entries, with added context.
She tackles interesting questions and reflections I have never really seen explored in books on Zen before: the Western students’ tendency towards Orientalism (guilty, sadly...), the tricky question of authenticity when it comes to how Zen is taught and transmitted, even in Japanese monasteries, the feeling of being the only (Western) woman in a room full of (mostly Japanese) men...
I am impressed by the short passage where she admits that she and the teacher who gave her transmission fell in love, and how she made the decision to walk away from him and go live in a different monastery. Not everyone would have made that call, and I really commend her for having the clarity of mind to see the sensible thing to do in an emotionally complicated situation such as that one.
She said she wrote the book she wished she’d had read when she was twenty-two: she did a wonderful job, because I wish I’d had this book when I was in my twenties and getting interested in Buddhism and trying to figure out what that meant and what place it would take in my life. It really resonated with me, and it was very inspiring and comforting to know the weird questions that sometimes fly around my brain when I study and practice are questions someone else asked themselves, and that they found, if not answers, at least new ways of looking at things and thinking. Thank you, Gesshin! And if you are not Gesshin, read this book!...more
One of the things I always look for when I pick up a Zen book is a book that will give me not only some Buddhist philosophy to read and digest, but alOne of the things I always look for when I pick up a Zen book is a book that will give me not only some Buddhist philosophy to read and digest, but also a book that will help me integrate the teachings into my daily life, into the most mundane aspects of my existence. Sitting zazen is a very good practice, but the things learnt on a meditation cushion, or from a book of sutras or from lectures from a teacher, must also translate into one’s daily activities. Zen, as Brad Warner puts it, is a philosophy of action, so a practitioner’s actions must reflect the teachings. I know that’s kind of a tall order, because the precepts are not hard lines, and life is an incredibly fluid and complicated thing. But every once in a while, I strike gold and find a book that seamlessly brings practice and living together, and inspires me in ways that I find directly applicable to my day-to-day.
“Returning to Silence” is such a book. It is deceptively thin, compared to some other books on my Buddhism shelf, but as my grandmother used to say, some of the best medicines come in small jars (sorry if that sounds clunky, I’m translating her weird saying from memory). It is a collection of transcribed lectures by Dainin Katagiri, who was abbot of the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center in Minneapolis. Reading these texts, I feel that Katagiri was a humble, down-to-earth sort of Zen teacher, who nevertheless challenged and motivated his students tremendously. His tone is firm, but gentle, and joyful (he has the most wonderful smile on almost every picture of him I’ve seen)! The short sections the book is divided into can sometimes be pretty dense, and definitely deserve to be re-read and reflected on, but they are also remarkably clear and profound.
It’s not really a book for beginners: I would recommend it for people who already practice zazen and who have studied Zen for a while. Less experienced students might find it confusing, but longer term, serious students will find it motivating, inspiring and deeply moving. An excellent book, I can’t recommend it enough....more
"I know Dutchman's Creek runs deep, much deeper than it could or should, and I don't like to think what it's full of."
I have never been fishing, so I "I know Dutchman's Creek runs deep, much deeper than it could or should, and I don't like to think what it's full of."
I have never been fishing, so I can’t say that fishing stories are something I care for very much. But If I learnt anything reading a collection of John Langan short stories last October (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), it’s that this man knows how to write, and that I trust him to take the seemingly banal and transform it into something I won’t be able to look away from. I picked it up on a quiet Saturday morning: it had to be pried out of my hands at one point, but it essentially gobbled up my whole day, because I was hooked, line and sinker (fishing pun intended) by page 2.
Langan creates literary horror that is as delightful as it is chilling: it’s also not all-out horror, it is much more subtle than that. The strangeness creeps up on you slowly, mixed in with the ordinary so slowly and gently that while you are aware of it for some time, it still manages to surprise you. And then it's just... unleashed.
This is the story of Abe and Dan, and of their friendship, built as a sort of support system for their grief. Both men lost their wives to tragedies, and despite their age difference, found solace in the act of fishing together in the many rivers and streams that flow through the Hudson Valley. One day, on Dan's suggestion, they add Dutchman's Creek to their fishing itinerary, despite hearing a rather disturbing story about the spot from a diner owner. The rest of their story deserves to be read, rather than told by me.
Langan uses a framed narrative structure very cleverly, by having Abe record the story of Rainer Schmidt as told to them by the diner's cook. This adds a timeless quality to the sense of dread that builds slowly through Abe and Dan's story, the menace lurking from a distant past. While he is not the first horror writer to explore the strange and desperate places grief can take people to, he does it with incredible skill - and his cosmic horror is blood-curdling.
If you like your horror stories literary, heart-breaking, deeply human and yet utterly alien, this book is for you. Masterful....more
This is awkward because I am married and you are dead, but... I think I'm in love with you. I guess developing a posthumous crush is a t"Dear Anthony,
This is awkward because I am married and you are dead, but... I think I'm in love with you. I guess developing a posthumous crush is a tad creepy, but hey, no one ever called me normal. Besides, I know you wouldn't have given me the time of day: I eat too much vegetarian food for things to have ever worked out between us. But damn, man, you were truly one of a kind. I've been reading your books and watching old episodes of your shows on Netflix; it breaks my heart a little bit every time, because of the way you left us - but what a legacy you left behind! This book is clearly the ancestor of “The Layover” and “No Reservations”; I devoured every page and wished you'd written a much bigger book. Or a bunch of sequels.
This book gave me a glimpse of you that "Kitchen Confidential" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) simply didn't. This time, I got to know you, not just your job. You put your soul on those pages, which makes this book vastly superior to its predecessor. I found out here that you were actually a romantic (not something I would have guessed from the other book!), who watched a lot of amazing movies and then went off to find out what happened off-frame in "Apocalypse Now", "Dr. Zhivago", "Laurence of Arabia" and "The Quiet American". What a crazy, beautiful thing to do!
I must say, I am a bit jealous. You figured out a way to get paid to travel, eat your heart out and get drunk with the locals. Where do I get that job?! Even if the stuff you did for "A Cook's Tour" was grittier than "The Layover" and "No Reservations", it was still pretty damn epic. The way you describe how people live in mysterious places I have never had the chance to visit is so evocative and vivid: I learned some incredible things, and not just about their food! You truly had a way with words, and a gift for observing the world around you: you saw its beauty even in the seediest, most dangerous spots on the planet. You make me want to go there.
I mentioned the vegetarian thing being a potential obstacle to our ever-lasting love, but frankly, as much as I love my tofu, reading what you write about foie gras somehow makes me question all my lifestyle choices (though I am truly sorry you had to suffer that vegan potluck in San Francisco; these people clearly don’t respect the vegetables they eat, which is just sad). This book contains a few very frank passages about where the meat that's on people's plates comes from and I actually find that fascinating - if a bit repulsive. My thinking is that if you are going to eat the stuff, you do need to know where it comes from, and if that offends some readers, well... fuck 'em. They can read something else if they want: I personally loved your thoughts about the dietary habits of North Americans and why a lot of them are silly at best, and hypocritically privileged at worse.
I read your writing and it makes me want to pack a bag and just go to all the places I haven't been yet, to see how people live there, what they eat and if they'll be my friends. And don't worry about selling out to the Food Network: most of us are whores to a corporate overlord somewhere. You took their money and did exactly what you wanted with it, which is the best way of dealing with this. Your unflinching honesty and shamelessness has a disarming charm that makes me go completely gaga. Your appreciation for all the things (food, obviously, but people's hospitality, their traditions and their work) is so intense that it makes me feel like I've only lived half a life. Your fearlessness inspires me so much.
Goodbye, Anthony. I would have tramped all over the world with you."...more
"I have long believed that it is only right and appropriate that before one sleeps with someone, one should be able—if called upon to do so—to make th"I have long believed that it is only right and appropriate that before one sleeps with someone, one should be able—if called upon to do so—to make them a proper omelet in the morning. Surely that kind of civility and selflessness would be both good manners and good for the world. Perhaps omelet skills should be learned at the same time you learn to fuck. Perhaps there should be an unspoken agreement that in the event of loss of virginity, the more experienced of the partners should, afterward, make the other an omelet—passing along the skill at an important and presumably memorable moment."
Amen, my love.
"Medium Raw" is the best possible title Bourdain could have given this book : it was written by a much mellower man than the one who (I like to picture) furiously scribbled "Kitchen Confidential" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... a more mature person, who has taken a step back and did a decent amount of soul-searching. But because Anthony Bourdain is Anthony Bourdain, he serves his introspection like… well, not quite a slap in the face, but there’s no point in expecting subtlety or sugar-coating here.
While it is not quite a sequel, it’s definitely preferable to have read “Kitchen Confidential” before you get into “Medium Raw”, as Bourdain reflects back on who he was when that first book was published and how much things have changed (in his life and in the cooking world) since. You’ll lose a lot of context if you are not familiar with the first book, but to be honest, I like this one better. They should come as a set.
I was planning on keeping this as my bedside book, and to just read a few pages before bed for a few days, but that was underestimating how much I fucking love reading anything Bourdain wrote. Once I cracked it open, there was no stopping, or prying the book out of my hands. Reading Bourdain is an interesting experience for me because it makes me laugh, it makes me think about things may never have crossed my mind if it hadn’t been for his books, and I often find it very moving because he was not afraid to expose himself, flaws and all; I can’t help but find that combination incredibly sexy.
“Medium Raw” is a rant, a confession, a manifesto. It’s not always pretty, but it’s always passionate and unapologetic – which is absolutely beautiful. It starts with a surreal story about eating ortolans, then hops from topic to topic: hitting rock bottom on a Caribbean island, whoring out to the Food Network and dealing with it, why culinary school might be a huge mistake, a statement about why cooking is a life skill literally everyone should master, a rant about the God-given right to a hamburger that won't kill you, his own very particular brand of fatherhood, a laundry list of people in the food world he loves and of those he can't stand. Every subject is dissected with insight, wit and enthusiasm.
I thought I couldn’t fall in love with the man any harder after reading “A Cook’s Tour” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) and binging “Parts Unknown” on Netflix; I was wrong. His way with words, the wonderfully twisted workings of his mind, his way of looking at the world and never averting his eye: reading this book made me melt. Sure, he was a cantankerous, world-weary recovered junkie, but I also can’t think of another non-fiction writer who has the kindness and authenticity he put on the page. The rude, cranky thing feels to me like an armor to hide a romantic and idealistic nature that the fucked up world we live in disappointed repeatedly. I get it, and this magnificent crazy man will always have a piece of my heart.
If you like Bourdain's style, his shows or his other books, don't miss this one!
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Call me a sap, but reading this made me much more emotional than I had anticipated. My brand spanking new copy is clearly fresh off the press because in the little “about the author” blurb on the flyleaf, the publisher added the heartbreaking (for me, at least) line: “He died in 2018”. I confess a moment of true anger at the publishing industry’s callous cashing in: let’s republish his entire body of work, now that he’s dead, the sales will skyrocket! And here I am feeding the vultures! Once I calmed down from this moment of anarchist rage, I was simply grateful for the amazing word porn I held in my hands. But a bit of sadness and anger remains mixed in...
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Additional comment regarding the audiobook: my husband and I listened to it on the long drive between Rochester and Montréal, and it's amazing, as you could expect as it is read by Bourdain. That voice!...more
I had an urge to return to this book when I found myself craving something both historical and a bit naughty. ThiUpdated review after re-read in 2024:
I had an urge to return to this book when I found myself craving something both historical and a bit naughty. This combination has definitely been mastered by Molly Tanzer, and “The Pleasure Merchant” is a book that has haunted me ever since I first read it a couple of years ago. This time, I read the author’s preferred text (I got the new edition when Word Hoard reprinted her first three books with pretty matching covers), which is a bit shorter than the first printing I had read previously, but Tanzer pruned wisely: nothing about the rise and fall of Tom Dawne was lost in the process.
I saw a recent review that compares It favorably to “Poor Things” and “The Crimson Petal and the White”, two books I love very much, and I think that it’s a fair comparison, because all these books deal with often unaddressed and female-specific issues from the era in which they are set, but “The Pleasure Merchant” is still very much its own thing. What the three books really have in common is the idiosyncratic way they look at events that are not usually explored in their era’s literature with honesty.
(view spoiler)[ I don’t quite remember what I thought of Tom when I first read this book, but I found myself really appalled at how fickle he is with loyalties. He cares for his work as a wig-maker’s apprentice, he cares for Hiddy, he cares for Mr. Bewit and Mrs. Jarvis… but only up until this care no longer benefits him. When that point is reached, he thinks nothing of betraying them or leaving them behind. When the POV changes and we begin to understand how Tom ended up where he is, things get even more unsavory, and I love how Tanzer orchestrated his transformation from underdog hero to despicable cad. None of the women in this book deserved having to deal with him, especially not the wonderful Miss Rasa, who is quite shocked to find him as entitled and self-centered as he is. (hide spoiler)]
This book is quite succulent the second time around because I knew to watch out and pay attention to some specific details a bit more closely. As with the last time, I wish there was just a little more spice to this intriguing tale, but that is in no way a deterrent. In fact, this book makes me want to write, and I can think of no better compliment to pay. If you have ever wished Dickens wrote naughty, feminist stories, you should check this one out!
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I have had my hits and misses with Miss Molly Tanzer, but this book might very well be one of the most charming historical reads I’ve had in a while! She took some classical elements dear to the Romantics, but gave them her own very special spin, resulting in a highly readable, fun and cheeky story about orphans, golden opportunities, mysterious pasts and young love – and what I have heard the English refer to as “a slap and a tickle”. Wink wink.
Tom is the young apprentice of a wig maker: he loves his life, his work and his master’s comely daughter. He can already see his future unfolding before him: marrying the sweet girl, taking over her father’s business and leading a quiet and prosperous life as a shop keeper in full mastery of his craft. That was the plan, until an act of kindness on his part will lead to the wrath of a distinguished customer and to his abrupt dismissal. As luck would have it, another customer witnesses his misfortune and decides to give him a role in his household, as a cup-bearer – which essentially means Tom is do to what ever his employer’s valet doesn’t feel like doing. But things change, and eventually, Tom becomes indispensable to Mr. Bewit and makes a place for himself in his strange household, which includes not only his master, but his master’s cousin and his wife – a most peculiar couple Tom can’t entirely make sense of. As his world goes from strange to strangest, Tom will uncover some very odd secrets which will lead him to the person he believes to be at the root of all his misery: the person because of whom he lost his apprentice position and his modest but happy life.
Tanzer occasionally slips in her efforts to keep the language strictly period-appropriate, which can break the illusion a bit, but in this book, it is mostly undetectable – though I don’t think anyone would be fooled thinking it had been written in the 18th century. That said, it is true to the spirit of the time, it’s strange mix of fascination with modern inventions and archaic moral standards. The characters are well-realized, eccentric and each is interesting in their own right.
The second half of the book takes the focus away from Tom, and brings a completely different perspective to events, which leads me to what is truly wonderful about his book: it is about consent. It is about control and freedom and ultimately, about the notion that no one should have a say over someone else’s fate. Another strong and important theme is the moving target of what it means to be a good person. Good intentions, decency, consideration of others' feelings and perceptions are explored as Tom goes from humble shop apprentice to social climbing rake - and his search for and ultimate confrontation with the enigmatic pleasure merchant creates a nuanced look at the question of "goodness". Tom sticks the moral code of his era, but is that code really "good"? The pleasure merchant's code may not adhere strictly to the mores that good society claims to uphold, but does that make it bad?...
Unusual, breezy to read, charming, honest and naughty (though in my opinion, not naughty enough!). I couldn't get this story out of my head, or stop recommending it to friends, so I ended up bumping the rating to 4 and a half stars, rounded up....more
Review/personal story explaining why I loved this book so much.
Punk rock was probably my first Dharma. I know that sounds weird, but it was the first Review/personal story explaining why I loved this book so much.
Punk rock was probably my first Dharma. I know that sounds weird, but it was the first thing that helped me learn that the world is not what we think it is, that we have to wake up and pay attention if we are ever to understand the nature of reality. It certainly helped that I was an angry, lonely, alienated teenager when I discovered that the Clash, Black Flag and other bands had put how I felt into words and noise. To my mother’s great exasperation, I found that noise blissfully soothing... I felt sure I would find some kindred spirits among other punk rockers: after all, if we all connected to this sound and this spirit, we were bound to have a lot in common! I started collecting records and spending as much time as my broke, teenage ass could with other punk rock kids. There was a great comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone in feeling like there was no place for me in a society full of people obsessed with their clothes, their money, their status… Didn’t they understand that none of that would matter once they were dead?
But I could never get behind senseless violence and destruction that a lot of the people on the scene embraced. I mean, sure, covering the walls of a shop with big anarchy graffitis is fun, but it doesn't do a damn thing besides making more back-breaking work for the poor kid earning minimum-wage who's going to have to clean it up the next day. The "Man" couldn't care less about things like that, it absolutely doesn't affect them. And jaywalking is not “breaking the law” so much as putting yourself in the way of cars: how the Hell are you going to fight the system with a pair of broken legs? But explaining that to some of the kids I hung out with was a total waste of breath, and I became disenchanted with the scene really fast. That was the point where if someone had showed up and told me they would give me a way to change things, I would have listened... and perhaps ended up doing something spectacularly dumb - just like what Chopstick and his friends have planned... But it didn't happen: I simply took a step back, still loving the music but finding many of the people on the scene silly at best, and hypocritical and dangerous at worse. The punk ethos was still in my heart, but I couldn't take slackers who all wore the same band shirts seriously when they ranted about revolution and anti-conformism…
Buddhism, when I discovered it a few years later, was actually a very natural fit: it rejected materialism, arbitrary division between human beings, violence and hate. Yes, it’s bleak when a philosophy’s foundation is the idea that life is suffering, but when you understand that this suffering is caused by our denial that everything (even ourselves) is constantly changing, you start looking at life - and living it - very differently. We try to make the impermanent permanent and get mad when it doesn’t work, and when you understand that mechanism, it becomes easy to break some habits of mind and drastically change one’s life.
The parallels between what I got from punk and what I got from Buddhism were so obvious to me: they were both about changing the world by looking at it differently, about taking care of your fellow humans and the planet we share with them, about questioning the agreed-upon concept of “reality”. In my view, punks are people who see other humans suffering for all kinds of reasons, who refuse this status quo and try to change the world to lessen that suffering; that’s what bodhisattvas do, too, in their own way. Obviously, some people are attracted to punk for other reasons, and some people are attracted to Buddhism for other reasons, but I always saw them as two perfectly compatible things.
I found this book more or less by accident, when I was randomly browsing at the big bookstore near my office. I am not a underground comic book connoisseur, so I’d never heard of “Dharma Punks” before, but I understand that it was quite a cult phenomenon when it first came out in the early 2000’s. Naturally, the title caught my eye, and the synopsis made me think of a skinny little 17 year old with a bad Manic Panic dye job I used to know…
Chopstick and his friends are anarchist street punks who live in a warehouse in Auckland, New Zealand, circa the mid-90’s. A few years before the beginning of “Dharma Punks”, Chopstick was introduced to Buddhism by a friend, and has since been trying to use meditation to make sense of what he sees around him. Meanwhile, he and his friends have gotten involved with a rather dubious character who hired them to make a impressive anarchist statement: blowing up a fast food restaurant on its grand opening night. As they get ready to put the plan into action, Chopstick and his friend/accomplice Tracy get separated, and the night takes on a very different turn from what was planned, with white supremacist skinheads, enigmatic Goth chicks and the ghost of Kurt Cobain getting tangled up in the action.
As you can imagine from the previous paragraphs, this graphic novel took me back and reminded me of people that I once knew and of emotions that I had once felt very, very deeply. The artwork is stark, black and white, thick lines, few details, but the ones you see really matter. The story weaves flashbacks in through the narrative, fleshing out the characters and their motivations perfectly. I loved that the female characters were as tough, as strong, as flawed and as human as the male ones. I loved that Chopsticks makes a stand that brings together his politics and his rejection of violence.
Despite how hefty it is, its a short read, that I would enthusiastically recommend to anyone who likes good graphic novels, especially those who smile to themselves when they hear this song:
A book like “Senlin Ascends” is tricky to describe: it’s speculative fiction that mashes together hist“Up is not at all a straightforward direction.”
A book like “Senlin Ascends” is tricky to describe: it’s speculative fiction that mashes together historical fiction, urban fantasy and steampunk-y sci-fi in a rather dizzying way. It’s also tricky to review, because the least you know about it, the more enjoyable it is! But let me try to tell you about it as coyly as possible, so that you still enjoy every flipping of its pages.
Thomas Senlin is the headmaster of a school, in a small seaside town in an alternate version of what most of us would think of as the Middle East, at an indeterminate time in history. He is a stern man who led a quiet, almost rigid life before his somewhat hasty wedding to the lively Marya, a young woman from his small town. For their honeymoon, they decide to go on a journey Senlin has dreamt of his entire life: to the Towel of Babel. The legendary structure has always fascinated him, but the great cost and distance of travelling to it as prevented him from experiencing its wonders in any form besides the pages of his faithful travel guide. Alas, the young couple as only been off the train for a few minutes when Marya vanishes in the bustling crowd surrounding the Tower. Senlin suddenly finds himself alone, in the strangest, wildest place he has ever been, and here, his intellect, good manners and poise will not help him find Marya. He will have to learn the ways of the Tower if he is to make his way up, where his bride had promised to meet him.
Senlin is one of the strangest, most unlikely protagonist I have come across in a long time. He is unlikable and inept, completely out of his depth in the lawless place he suddenly finds himself in - but what better guide could a reader ask to explore this Kafkaesque world Bancroft created? We blindly follow him up (and sometimes down) as he realizes that his guidebook in no way prepared him for the reality of the Tower, and that everything he thought he knew about it was a quaint fantasy.
The world building is so ingenuous and unique: try to imagine civilizations that have never touched the ground! I loved what Ted Chiang did with the same basic idea in “Stories of Your Life” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), but Bancroft tells a very different story, one that is not about divine engineering, but more about what it means to come out of one’s shell and face the unexpected life is sure to throw at you. The side characters Senlin encounters on his way “up” are all interesting, and their interactions and roles in his story deepen the world building. Everyone keeps telling him that there are no “friends” in the tower, but Senlin has a heart, and he learns to use it as a weapon – and not as the weakness it is presumed to be.
There is such an interesting thought experiment here on the difference between living in books and living in the real world. This is a theme that I am sure many bookworms will feel strongly about: to paraphrase Neil Gaiman, I have lived in books almost more than I have lived in the real world, and while that is often a good thing, I sometimes wonder if it doesn’t mean I might have missed out on some stuff (not to mention that it gave me very unrealistic expectations on quite a few things, which led to serious disappointments down the road…). Senlin is like that: an armchair explorer, an armchair stargazer, an armchair adventurer. Nothing he has ever read could have prepared him for what it means to suddenly have to be a man of action when quiet reflection has always been more his thing.
I was not sure what I was getting into with “Senlin Ascends”, but I must say it was a very rewarding leap of faith. I am very excited about the sequel! 4 and a half stars, rounded up....more
I have read a lot of books on Zen, and I have to say, this is probably one of the clearest, most accessible and relatable books on the subject that I I have read a lot of books on Zen, and I have to say, this is probably one of the clearest, most accessible and relatable books on the subject that I have ever had the pleasure to read. Charlotte Joko Beck is a compassionate, non-nonsense and warm teacher: reading her essays left me feeling comforted and very serene. When I read a book like this one, where so much emphasis is put on simple zazen practice and compassion, I’m not sure where the idea of Zen being harsh and militaristic comes from…
The writing is straight-forward and engaging, realistic but still completely gentle. The essays are transcribed talks given by Beck to her students, sometimes followed by some questions and answers, and organized by themes, such as feelings, suffering, ideals and choices. There is no mysticism or religious trimmings to her essays: just discussion on the practice, and the effect it has on one’s life and the way we experience it. Some people have referred to this approach as an Americanization of Zen, and Beck explains that this is not simply about making Zen look American, but about practicing it in a way that works best in the culture.
I love that Beck will not give her students any false hopes, that she will not try to sell them the practice of Zen by pretending that it will make their lives better. She insists that no one is perfect, that the practice is hard and that no one can do the work for you. She is also quick to add that persevering in one’s practice will smooth all those hurdles out, but the fact of the matter is, you have to stick to it!
I was very impressed with how much material Beck packs in every single chapter: not a word is wasted! Even the introduction and the author interview at the end of my edition were just packed with profound yet incredibly clear teachings and ideas. A must-read for anyone interested in or practicing Zen....more
I’ve been reading and reviewing a bunch of books about Buddhism lately, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t read my very first introduction to the teaI’ve been reading and reviewing a bunch of books about Buddhism lately, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t read my very first introduction to the teachings in a really, really long time. We visited the Cham Shan Temple (also known as the Ten Thousand Buddhas Sarira Stupa, in Niagara Falls, Ontario) over the holidays, and looking at the amazing statues and shrines and spending a little time inside the public temple reminded me how moved I was by my first introduction to the life of the Buddha, and made me want to revisit it.
“Old Path White Clouds” is a beautiful and detailed novelized biography of Siddhartha Gautama. It is based on very meticulous historical research: Thich Nhat Hanh distilled his sources into a flowing narrative that is both elegant and easy to read. He has said about writing this book that he “tried to take away the mystic halos people ascribe to the Buddha. Not being able to see the Buddha as a human being makes it difficult for us to approach the Buddha”. I think that might be why it appealed to me immediately the first time I read it: this was the story of flesh and blood being just like me, who wanted to find a way to help people and ease their suffering.
This book is not a compendium of teachings or a guide for practices and mediation; its aim is to familiarize the reader with the life of Siddhartha Gautama, give them a sense of who he was and how his experiences led him to enlightenment, and inspired him to teach. That being said, I find it an invaluable work for anyone interested in Buddhism because through this biographical format, it also gives the reader a very strong sense of what Buddhism is about, without being didactic or formal. The teachings are interweaved in the story as the narrative unfolds, so it is a very good way to learn about the Middle Way, the Four Noble Truths, the Three Treasures, the Five Precepts, the Eight-fold Path and so on, as they arise within the story of the Buddha's life.
This book is beautiful and inspiring in so many ways. I obviously recommend to everyone, especially to those interested in learning about Buddhism. This is a magnificent story that deserves to be read again and again....more
"Instructions for the Zen Cook" is probably Dogen's most famous writing: it's a rather short text that was meant to be exactly what the title implies,"Instructions for the Zen Cook" is probably Dogen's most famous writing: it's a rather short text that was meant to be exactly what the title implies, a set of instructions for the cook of a Zen temple. That position was actually very important in a temple's administration, and Dogen believed it entailed a lot of responsibilities that went beyond preparation of food. This book is a translation of the original text, followed by commentaries on the essay by Rosho Uchiyama Roshi, a Japanese Zen monk.
This is one of Dogen's most accessible texts, because unlike the Shobogenzo, it's not really ambiguous or contradictory, but really straightforward. It's also applicable to pretty much every situation in life. It can seem bizarre to think that a 800 years old book intended for a monastery cook can have so much relevance in modern life, but it actually does, and it’s not that much of a mental stretch to see it. The essence of this text is the importance of awareness and giving one’s full attention to what needs to be done, regardless of circumstances; those concepts are very relevant to modern life.
Cooking happens to be something I love to do, and I remember looking at my pots, pans, knives and other implements with a very different eye after reading "Instructions for the Zen Cook" for the first time. Once you understand that the focus, care and respect you give your tools and ingredients can be expanded to every other daily activity your partake in, it can really change the way you approach even the most mundane activity. It makes me smile to think that a spatula can be a good instrument with which to teach the Dharma.
I just love this book. Even the translator’s introduction was insightful and helpful! And the commentary expands on ideas brought up in the essay, such as Parental Mind, the concept of the Self, discrimination of worldly values and the goal of practice - giving the reader a deeper understanding of the many ways in which Dogen's essay can be a source of great teachings. This is truly a classic, and an essential text for Zen Buddhists....more
This beautiful book is a perfect resource for people who wants to flesh out their daily meditation practice but who do not live within a Buddhist commThis beautiful book is a perfect resource for people who wants to flesh out their daily meditation practice but who do not live within a Buddhist community. Thich Nhat Hanh collected the recitations, chants, gathas (short, simple devotional “poems” recited before performing various activities) and mantras recited by the people of Plum Village, his community in Southern France, and arranged them so that people who wish to incorporate those elements in their mindfulness practice can do so easily. The book also includes instructions for different kinds of meditation, a few formal ceremonies and some of the fundamental teachings and discourses of the Buddha.
There isn’t much to say about this book, except that it’s as practical as it is inspiring, and very well structured. When I first got it, I recopied a few of the gathas on little pieces of paper and placed them where they would be most useful (the one for washing dishes above the sink, the one for drinking tea by the kettle, etc.), and kept the book by my meditation cushion, to read longer passages such as the Heart and Diamond Sutra, after meditating. Of every book on my Dharma shelf, this one probably gets the most daily use.
This book is a wonderful addition to the library of anyone interested in making mindfulness practice a part of their daily lives! Very highly recommended....more
Neil Gaiman wrote a Japanese fable and apparently fooled a bunch of fans and academics, who all believed he had adapted an actual folk tale within hisNeil Gaiman wrote a Japanese fable and apparently fooled a bunch of fans and academics, who all believed he had adapted an actual folk tale within his Sandman universe. Even his illustrator, the amazing P. Craig Russell thought this was just a really seamless absorption of a Japanese story into Morpheus' realm, but nope, it's 100% Gaiman. I read a lot of zen fairy tales when I began reading about Buddhism years ago, and while I am no expert, I can see why readers were fooled: the tone, rhythm and motif of the story within this lovely comic's pages are that strange and beautiful blend of whimsical and heartbreaking that are a trademark of many of Japanese folk tales.
A fox and a badger make a wager: if they can get a young, solitary monk to leave his tiny, remote temple, they will share his humble abode, as it is more comfortable than their dens. They try to fool the monk into leaving, but he sees through their deceptions. The badger eventually gives up, but the fox becomes unexpectedly attached to the young man, and when she hears demons whisper about a plan to kill him through his dreams, she undertakes a long journey to try to save the man she loves.
I cried reading this. It was a precious and tragic love story, illustrated in a style reminiscent of traditional Japanese water colors, but with Art Nouveau curves and stunning colors. Its a wonderful addition to the Sandman cannon, as well as a great little standalone story. Any fan of the series will enjoy this, as will anyone who enjoys Gaiman's work or who simply loves old folk tales... even if they are not 100% authentic......more
Gabrielle (Reading Rampage)
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