Tag: book review

At this point in the pandemic it may feel fantastical, but imagine yourself preparing for a long, lovely vacation in a country very foreign to you. Wouldn’t it be wondrous to read a book about the place, written by a critical outsider, who also had thorough experience and love for this location? I was fortunate to experience this with Indonesia, Etc., by Elizabeth Pisani. Every inch of earth deserves a book written with the care and integrity Pisani brings, and it would make the earth a better, more appreciated place. I would love a database that showed the corresponding book for every place on earth.

Indonesia is a massive country: fourth most populous, and around 14th in area (there is a lot of water). Further, it is extremely diverse in language, religion, ethnicity, and climate. Pisani conveys the complex balance of Indonesia, summarized in one of their pillars of the nation, and national motto, “Unity in Diversity”. Americans could take heed. In the book, Pisani travels in a massive oval around the country she has inhabited for over two decades, sharing insights, stories, history, and more in a glorious ramble. My wife lived in Indonesia for four years, and they both frequently mentioned the same charming idiosyncrasies: food trucks that make similar repetitive noise for the same foods, thronging pulses of crowds, the ubiquity of delicious Padang food, and a general contentment among the people. There is a reason you can readily go to many different Asian restaurants, but likely have difficulty finding an Indonesian one- life is so pleasant, few want to leave.

Not to say the country doesn’t have issues, and the populace endures difficult circumstances meriting thoughtful assistance. But the book is worth reading, and the country is worth visiting. One major recommendation from both my family and the book is to include a visit to an island other than Java, Sumatra, and Bali, if you are able.

The past 15 years has been a fascinating time to be an American and reflect on what “American Exceptionalism” really means. Frankly, I have no idea, but reading Peter Guardino’s, The Dead March: A History of the Mexican American War has provided me a wealth of understanding about American power and history during an often overlooked period of time, the 1840’s.

One of my favorite trilogies is the Liberation Trilogy by Rick Atkinson, which chronicles the United States ground forces liberation of North Africa, Sicily, Italy, and Western Europe in World War II. I appreciate not just their incredible style and depth, but the inclusion of the failures of Allied soldiers, their unfamiliarity with the causes of the war, and documentation of the racism which existed within American culture. It is a full picture. Despite these warts, we can understand World War II in Europe very clearly as Allied forces using their might and military to liberate lands from an oppressive, horrible, aggressive regime. The best of American values were exported to places which desired them.

As for the Mexican American War, Guardino left me believing the exact opposite. Americans exported the absolute worst of American traditions such as racism, imperialism, and conquest to people who were not welcoming these values. The premises of the war were ridiculous, and its execution was conducted by imperialist, racist, and xenophobic troops. Guardino masterfully provides a balanced perspective on this war, explaining events from the perspectives of Mexican and American soldiers and civilians.

The book’s greatest strength lies in the details of life in the age that he provides, underscoring just how different and difficult life in 19th century Mexico was. For instance, the major advantage the American military had was light artillery which could be easily maneuvered, albeit with draft animals. But it was these draft animals which fascinated me. Donkeys, horses and mules needed to be trained for military service, otherwise they would run off, carrying supplies. This training essentially involved blasting lots and lots of cannon in the vicinity of the animals, so they would get used to these explosions. This was very expensive, so the Americans were able to use “professional” draft animals, while the Mexican army could not afford this.

History is best when it is complete. I enjoyed this text because it offered a complete picture of an era I was unfamiliar with, and highly recommend it.

It is recommended that your book diet feature variety: too many long novels leaves you craving a brief, non-fiction text, too many short stories and all you want is a lengthy, deep psychological thriller. No matter what you’ve been consuming lately, Desert Notebooks: A Roadmap for the End of Time by Ben Ehrenreich will fit in nicely, for it is a book with very few peers.

Ehrenreich writes to us from Joshua Tree National Park, and Las Vegas. These places inform his voice, but the cosmos, earth, history, and humanity as a whole take center stage as well. Overlaying all of this are meditations on time, that great connector of everything. He manages to force the reader to consider theirs, without impressing any of his own personal philosophies. And this is a major accomplishment of the book, as the various thinkers and philosophers he reflects will lead you to Wikipedia and Google searching for more to read. Personally, I am drawn to examine Marija Gimbutas, Mayan theology, and more of his work as a result of reading this book.

Of particular fascination to me was his summary of Christianity, which he described as an outside observer:

“…a new religious movement began to spread among the Jews and from them to other colonized and traumatized peoples throughout the Roman Mediterranean: the Messiah had already come, it insisted, but he’d been rejected, executed like a common criminal. With his arrival, time had started over. With his return, time would end. For good this time.

This new religion, Christianity, sought to set itself apart from other sects. It was not bound to a people or a place. It did not require memorization of arcane rules of behavior, complex ritual proscriptions, or codes of purity. Its most energetic publicist, Saul of Tarsus, later known as Paul, ecstatically declared that Christ had freed his followers from the tyranny of the Law: his followers would be justified through faith. And faith, in this context, was primarily a relationship to time, an orientation to the future. Faith was purest expectation. Time, this thing set in motion with creation, and reset with Christ’s birth and crucifixion, would end with his return. The universe would be redeemed. The faithful would be rewarded with the greatest of all conceivable gifts: eternal life, timelessness in the presence of God. Paradise was reimagined as an escape from the trauma of time.

This new sect was so extraordinarily successful that within a few short centuries- which would henceforth be counted from the birth of the Messiah- it had been adopted by the Empire itself… it would prove a uniquely flexible faith, a source of solace to the dispossessed capable also of offering succor to their conquerors. And- this is perhaps its greatest strength- to whatever fresh populations they chose to conquer and dispossess. As the centuries gathered it would spread by sword and cannonade to the Americas, to Africa and Asia and farthest Australia. The people of these continents- their own calendars destroyed, their songs and feast days banned, their sacred texts burned, their elders and their infants slaughtered, and their ancestors defiled- would in turn be thrust reeling into traumatized time.”

This is maybe the clearest summary of the practical history of colonization by “Christians” I have ever considered, and it is worth examining from a contemplative perspective. A close friend and I frequently ask ourselves that if we learned Jesus was just a crazy guy who preached love, would it change our actions or outlook? We believe if the answer is no, then we are doing our religion correctly. Ehrenreich’s summary provides an outsider’s lens of what Christianity is and has done in the world, featuring both aspiration and appropriate condemnation. I’m glad I read it, and I am glad I read this book.

Since I met my wife, she has done a great job at expanding the palette and quantity of books that I read. I am extremely grateful. She read this book several years ago, and I was uninterested, but I was gifted A Brief History of 7 Killings for Christmas this year, and am overall happy!

As a relatively wealthy white man, I have benefited from explicitly making it a point to read at least one book per year written by an American author of color (Tears We Cannot Stop, We Were Eight Years in Power, and The Underground Railroad are all recommended), and one book per year written from a post-colonial perspective (Homegoing, Americanah and The Sympathizer are quite good). This fits the latter criteria a little more, but it is a good read not just because I want to gain understanding, sympathy, and empathy for others, but because this book is really, really good. It won the Mann Booker Prize in 2015, and if you don’t know what that is, it is worth finding out.

What I admire most about this book and its author, Marlon James, is that none of the characters are likeable in the first 200 pages or so. And the voices of these characters are of astounding diversity AND clarity. A Jonathan Franzen book sure has a lot or characters, but their voices are all recognizable as emanating from the same mind. So I found myself reading a book with loads of different perspectives, none of which I wanted to spend more time with, and yet, I could not put it down. What I find unfortunate is I compare it to other authors’ work, when it ought to stand alone.

The book is a masterpiece, in the sense that a Renoir, or a Ferrari, or a Linklater is a masterpiece. Even if you don’t love the specific subject, you will admire this this book. It centers around the shooting of Bob Marley in 1976, and that is really all you need to know diving in. As the characters’ lives expand and unravel, a few do stand out as protagonists we can root for. And while long, it merits a re-reading due to the complexity and identity shifting.

Overall a great piece of fiction, and highly recommended!