 Icelandic cafe decor. These are color coordinated books that look cool, but the books have been cut away about 3 inches from the spine so that they can be displayed. The bookshelves don't need to be full sized this way, but the books are unreadable.
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 Island of a Thousand Mirrors. Nayomi Munaweera. 2012. Island of a Thousand Mirrors. This is an exceptionally well written book. The prose is beautiful. I love the word choices and the cadence of the sentences, but I just didn't love the actual story. Focused initially on oppression in India, it became an immigration story, but then took another, unexpected twist that I just didn't get into at all. Moreover, there was a graphic rape scene towards the end of the story that was unnecessarily graphic for my taste and made it hard for me to get back into the rest of the book. Not recommended.
*** Comments Suzanne: Love all your reviews! Thank you.  Pilgrimage. Paulo Coelho. 1987. The Pilgrimage. This is the companion book to The Alchemist, which I read six years ago and have fond memories of because following my 40th birthday, I was really down for a variety of reasons of which many of my close friends were aware. Someone, I still do not know who although I have some suspicions, sent me a series of anonymous gifts and encouraging notes every day for like 10 days. It was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me and I remain awed by the thoughtfulness of these gestures at a time when I really needed the extra support. In any event, I read The Alchemist because it came with a pile of books on one of these days, along with The Spellman Files and Operating Instructions (all of which I highly recommend and just loved). I know many people who loved The Alchemist, but I just didn't. These masculine quest stories don't resonate with me, even while I appreciate that the writing in good and that there are many layers to the stories. The Pilgrimage is in this same vein for me. What I did like, though, was that I was listening to it while I was walking the Camino de Santiago and the quester in the story also is walking this route in search of a sword hidden by his teacher in a secret society as part of a personal quest for meaning. I loved when he was walking the part of the camino where I was walking, but I find Goelho's style of writing to be forced a lot of the time, the story too contrived, and the lesson the protagonist is supposed to be learning too obvious for my taste. Not recommended unless you loved The Alchemist or are walking the Camino de Santiago.
 Two Steps Forward. Graeme Simsion and Anne Buist. 2017. Two Steps Forward. In preparation for my upcoming three day mini-pilgrimage to camino de Santiago, I saw reference to this novel about two agnostic walkers who set out to find meaning on the famed route. Walking from France to Santiago in Spain, the intertwining stories are charming. Every time I thought it was on a predictable path, it veered off again and avoided being trite. I enjoyed the ebb and flow of the stories and how the narrator changed from one character to the other, often describing the same moments. The many minor characters who come and go from the narrative add depth and texture to what is a strong double storyline to start with. RECOMMEND.
Diego: already bought Me: Now I’m reading The Pilgrimage. Have you read it? Diego: Nope.  Sex, Surrealism, Dali, & Me. Carlos Lozano. 2000. Why yes, it is yet another memoir, but since I was headed to Figueres, Spain, to visit the Salvador Dali Theatre-Museum, I just couldn't turn away when I saw this book referenced in some material about Dali. It is the memoir of Dali's muse, Carlos Lozano, as told to the author, Cliff Thorlow. I actually loved the third-party author because it allowed for some reflection and detail that can only come from third-party story-telling. Dali was a strange, strange person and this memoir only added to the intrigue. I have so very many questions following the reading of this book, questions that will never be answered because Dali was born in such a different era and apparently the only ever sought psychoanalysis by Freud. I had no idea how many trans-women and gender non-conforming folks he consorted with, nor about the complexity of his marriage, nor the extremely odd sexual dalliances he engaged in. I was also fascinated to learn that he never drank or did drugs, was obsessed with vitamins, and needed a constant stream of new people to entertain him. There are dozens of other interesting quirks I had no idea about, despite his being my favorite artist my whole life for no apparent reason. I'll spare you all the details here, but I HIGHLY RECOMMEND this one and would love to talk to folks who have read it about their take on gender and sexuality in the book.
 The Life and Legacy of Salvador Dali. Charles River Editors. 2017. The Life and Legacy of Salvador Dali. Part of the History's Greatest Artists series, this book could not have been more different than #56 S, S, D, M. This very dry book is more like what I had read about Dali in the past, a very cleaned up version of his life story. Not only did it gloss over everything relating to his gender expression ("Although he wore his mother's make-up and jewelry as a child, this was not an expression of being transgender, but instead a precursor to his need for attention."), it apparently completely misunderstood his relationship with sex and love by saying simply that he remained deeply in love with his wife his whole life, despite evidence that she may have been having affairs (a very significant understatement if Lozano is to be believed since Dali not only found lovers for her, but often watched), and taking the position that he "may have had homosexual affairs when he was young." The Lorano memoir add in a lot of detail that makes this statement seem unrelated to the actual reality of the situation. For a non-art person like me, though, it contained a lot of information about his art and I enjoyed having this background, particularly the commentary on specific pieces that I saw at his museum when I was there. That aside, though, feel confident that you can skip this one.
 No Walls and the Recurring Dream. Ani Di Franco. 2019. No Walls and the Recurring Dream. Just as I swore off memoirs for a while after #52's It’s No What It Looks Like, my brother suggested this book and, as is my plan for this year, whatever book is the most recent one I have heard about when I finish the previous one is what I read next, so back to memoir it was. This is Ani DiFranco's book about her life before things settled down and she had kids. And, as Trystan promised, it was both well-written and enjoyable. Inclusion of her rape (basis of the song Gratitude) was powerful and you can see how this experience became part of her approach to social justice. Her business model, born out of conviction rather than a commitment to entrepreneurship particularly resonated with me, including the many misconceptions about how she built everything she had. Her writing style of melodic and just when she would reach the point of lecturing on a topic, she would pull away and return to the story of her life so that even the preachy parts did not overdo it. STRONGLY RECOMMEND.
 Gilgamesh. Stephen Mitchell. 2004. Gilgamesh (Stephen Mitchell's translation). I read this because it was on Eliza's fall reading list and I really love Mitchell's works. I also had never read it and am not sure (once again) how I managed to miss it despite a degree in philosophy. I did not particularly enjoyed the story itself, but is always the case, Mitchell's essay about the story, which follows the story itself, is exceptional and I really wish I had read it first before reading the actual story. With that in mind, I recommend the book, though not the Gilgamesh part in and of itself, but rather Mitchell's commentary and insight on it.
 Wally Roux. Nick Carr. 2019. Wally Roux, Quantum Mechanic. A quirky little read that I got free in August from Audible, this book defies genre as it combines a young adult novel about mental health, inter-racial adoption, and outcast longing to fit in with alternate timelines and existential angst. I didn't post a review initially because I remain undecided about the status of a recommendation. It started slow, with too much backstory and I could not figure out where it was going, given the title especially. But, in the end, it tied together nicely and was a fun little light reading that maybe tried too hard to weave in too many things. Cautious recommendation leaning towards maybe not.
 It's Not What It Looks Like. Molly Burke. 2019. It's Not What It Looks Like: In fairness, I had probably already overdosed on the internet star memoir genre before I started this book, but this one definitely pushed me over the edge. Written and read by Molly Burke, the book was really superficial and in part absolutely irritating. Her narration style is, for lack of a better word, shrill. I really cannot believe that I wrote that, but there really is no other way to say it. I supposed if you had never met a blind person or read anything about being blind, you might find some of this marginally interesting or useful, but I found it incredibly shallow. Even the stories that should have elicited an emotional response from me just left something to be desired. She name drops, makes some homophobic comments, and has a way of storytelling that consistently left me rolling my eyes instead of drawing me in. Definitely skip this one.
 Tales of the City. Armistead Maupin. 1978. Tales of the City: I am not sure how I missed this 1978 classic. When the Netflix show was released, three different people mentioned how much they loved the books, which surprised me because I hadn't even heard of the books. I watched the two seasons on Netflix--the first and last ones-- before reading the first book in the series. I was worried that because I did it in this order, I wouldn't enjoy the book as much, but turns out that the writing is strong enough to carry the story, even when I know what is going to happen. Even with the sub-plot that includes pedophilia, I was drawn into the story and had hard time hitting pause. The story is set in Queer San Francisco in the 1970's and was written contemporaneously, but despite dealing with race, child sex abuse, trans-ness, and so many other topics relevant today, you would think it was written this year. Highly recommend.
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AuthorI'll read anything a friend recommends & I love telling people what I think about it. Every year, I read 50 books recommended by 50 different friends. Welcome to My 50 Bookish Friends Blog. SearchCategories
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