Bookish Thoughts

I loved this book, and it's only further fueling my love of Becky Chambers. She's writes these quiet, gentle, speculative stories that deal with heavy philosophical questions. At the heart of this one is the quest for purpose. How do you find it, and do you need to? Is simply living enough? If it is enough, could you call that your purpose?  It's an interesting, circular argument. One that isn't terribly important to me because I know where I stand on it - living my little life in my little corner of the universe is enough for me. I don't need to strive for something more or bigger. But that's not true of the protagonist of this book, who feels woefully unfulfilled and spends most of the book trying to fill a hole in himself with some grand purpose. What I really loved is the mundanity of this hole. Dex cam from a loving family and found a supportive community. They are excellent at their chosen profession and seem to want for nothing. But, somehow, it isn't...

I gotta say, I struggled a lot with this novella. It started and ended very strongly. But the middle was so muddled I had a hard time following what was going on. I think it would have benefited from a longer length, which would have allowed for smoother transitions and some more background information. Then again, the jumpy transitions were kind of the point, as that folded in with the powers of one of the protagonists. I'd probably appreciate this book more if I read it again, though I'm not sure I ever will. I can see that it's important, and I'm trying to figure out whether I'm the intended audience or not. Was this meant to be a teaching book (making me part of the intended audience) or something more internal (and so not necessarily for me). It's probably that it was the latter but sold as the former, which is the root of my unmet expectations. At the least, it has me wanting to learn more about our justice and prison system.

I remember struggling a lot with LeGuin's books when I first began reading her. Every book felt like an argument. I never agreed with her fully, but I had to think hard to refine my own point of view, and I appreciated that. I always came out of her books feeling more sure of  myself for having thought deeper about the issues she presented. This book was different. I'm not sure if it's because my ideals have changed over the past decade or if I know what to expect from LeGuin now or is it's just where she was in her life, but this book was entirely on my wavelength. Like much of her work, it posits anarchy as an alternative to fascism and weaves in a healthy dose of feminism. Whatever it was, I loved this book. It might be my favorite of hers - though I think I also said that about the last LeGuin book. Maybe she's just converting me to her way of thinking.

I read this one for book club, which is another nod to book club pulling me out of my comfort zone. I'm not sure I ever would have picked this one up if not for book club. It follows two woman and the New York Public Library, flipping back and forth between the 1910s and the 1990s. It's about a decades-spanning mystery of missing books. But it's also about the feminist movement and generational trauma and loneliness.  Most interesting to me was the question at the heart of artists choosing to destroy their unpublished works upon death versus historians' desire to preserve them for posterity. It's easy to see how the perspective can shift over generations, as prominent people begin to fade into the past, becoming more symbols or icons than actual people. I do think some of the plots went a bit too far in order to tie the ending up with a neat bow. Henry's story, in particular, took me out of the book a little with how contrived it felt. But overall I enjoyed the ...

I'd been putting off Rhythm of War for a while, because it's such a big, intimidating book. I knew it would take me weeks to read, weeks when I wouldn't be able to read other books. But I'm trying to get away from the mindset that I have to keep reading more and more books. So I decided to finally commit to this one.  Almost as soon as I picked it up, I stopped being intimidated. I fell right into this story, and I remembered how wonderful it can be to spend an extended amount of time in a well-crafted world with interesting characters. The length allows for this story to be both epic and intimate. Huge, world-changing things are happening right alongside more personal struggles, and they all get equal weight in the narrative. I think I felt nearly every emotion over the course of reading this book. Sanderson is really a master of his craft, and I'm so excited to continue to read his work for years to come. The wider Cosmere starts to creep into this book more than ...

Like most of the nation, I heard Amanda Gorman read this poem at Biden's inauguration. I was inspired and moved hopeful for the future. When I saw this book at the used book store, I had to grab it. It's a quick read, but it remains an inspiring and healing one. And I'm glad to have it on my shelf so I can revisit it whenever I feel the need.

I grew up watching Buffy. It premiered when I was in fifth grade. I didn't watch right from the beginning, but I did catch up with reruns that summer so that beginning with season 2, I was a devoted watcher. Every week I tuned in, and the next day at school I'd dissect the episode with my friends. It was there for me through middle school and high school, and it's been there for me ever since, whenever I needed it. I can't tell you how many times I've rewatched the series in it's entirety, or my favorite episodes in particular. I can quote nearly all of it, have come up with head canons to fill in all the plot holes, can determine which season a still is from based on Buffy's hair style, and will still happily spend hours dissecting the minutiae with anyone willing. I learned a lot from Buffy. One of the most important things Buffy taught me is that the world is not simply divided into black and white, good and evil. As the series progresses, Buffy learns th...