Friday, November 29, 2024

Review: Meditations for Mortals (by Oliver Burkeman)

 My Rating: 4 stars

When it comes to books that fall into the “self-help” category, I’ve never been much of a fan, as I find a majority of these books are “overly-preachy” in tone and oftentimes also employ aggressive-sounding language that essentially tries to shame the reader into following the advice at hand.  I’ve always been picky with books, but given this particular pet peeve of mine, I tend to be even more careful when choosing self-help books to read.  Two years ago, I came across Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks and upon the recommendation of trusted book friends (who obviously understood my wariness toward self-help books), I read the book and really enjoyed it.  One of the things I liked most about that book was how Burkeman presented advice regarding time management and productivity (among other things) that largely ran counter to the advice traditionally presented in business books.  As I wrote in my review of that book, Burkeman essentially takes the advice that those time management books preach – the idea of “making more time to get more done” – and throws it out the window.  Instead, his message is that since time is finite and most humans are only on this earth for an average of four thousand weeks, it is realistically impossible to get every single thing that we want to do done – so instead of obsessing over how to cram more “to do” stuff into a short time span, it’s better to just make the conscious decision to do what matters most in the moment and accept the consequences (good or bad) of that choice. 

 

Burkeman’s follow-up to that book is Meditations for Mortals, which came out back in September.  In this much slimmer book, Burkeman takes the concepts from Four Thousand Weeks and breaks them down into “mediations” across 28 days (4 weeks), with the focus specifically on how to embrace our limitations (or “imperfectionism” as Burkeman puts it) and make those choices that matter.  Burkeman wrote the book in a flexible manner where it can either be read all the way through in one or two sittings, or taken in bite-size morsels over a 4 week period (even though I chose to read the book all in one sitting, I appreciate the flexibility that this format provides).

 

Overall, I actually enjoyed this book more than his previous one, probably because I felt it was more accessible, both content-wise and format-wise.  Four Thousand Weeks was a good book, but as I mentioned in my review, it waxed a bit too philosophical in some parts, rendering some of the content a little too abstract.  This follow-up is less philosophical and more practical, which made the content easier to digest and remember.  The format also makes it easier to go back and re-read particular sections that may be more relevant and applicable than others.

 

For those who already read Four Thousand Weeks, I highly recommend reading this follow-up, as it synthesizes some of the concepts from there and, in my opinion, enhances that book.  If you haven’t read that book yet, I would say no need to go back – just read this one instead.

Thursday, November 28, 2024

Review: Dreaming in Cuban (by Cristina Garcia)

 My Rating: 4 stars

The past few months have been a bit of a crazy, chaotic whirlwind for me and while I’ve continued to do tons of reading, I’ve unfortunately been less diligent with the review side of things (mostly due to lack of time) – which is why I’m grateful to have a couple weeks off now and in December so I can finally catch up, both on the backlogged reviews that I didn’t get a chance to write as well as on the teetering stack of books that I have not gotten around to reading yet (the stack is literally inches away, right next to my keyboard, threatening to topple over as I type this).

 

One of the books I finished earlier in the month is Cuban American author Cristina Garcia’s debut novel Dreaming in Cuban, which came out back in 1992.  I picked this one up because it was assigned reading for one of my classes, which of course made me skeptical about whether this would be a tedious read and whether I would actually enjoy it. 

 

The story revolves around three generations of the del Pino family and the devastating impact that the Cuban revolution has on them.  The narrative alternates between the perspectives of Celia (the matriarch of the del Pino family who still lives in Cuba), Lourdes (one of Celia’s three children who flees with her husband to the U.S. at the height of the Cuban revolution), and Pilar (Lourdes’s daughter who is caught between two the American world she lives in and the Cuban world of her heritage).  In addition to the interesting format that the story is told in (a combination of third person, first person, and epistolary), there are also magical realism elements sprinkled throughout the narrative, though not in a heavy-handed manner (which I was glad to see because magical realism can be a hit or miss for me). 

 

This is one of those novels that has a complex plot involving multiple characters (I’m grateful for the character chart that Garcia includes at the beginning of the book) with a deeply profound underlying message that takes a little bit of patience to get to. 

 

Overall, I wouldn’t say that I “enjoyed” the book, as there was a lot of hard stuff in this one that had to be parsed through, but I definitely liked and appreciated it, especially for the unique insight it provided into the Cuban American experience.  I would say that if this is a perspective that interests you, this one is well worth picking up, though be aware that trigger warnings abound.

Thursday, November 7, 2024

Review: Between the World and Me (by Ta-Nehisi Coates)

 

My Rating: 5 stars

Browsing through my book news emails a couple weeks ago, I kept coming across reviews for Ta-Nehisi Coates’s newest book The Message (which I have not yet read but definitely want to) and it reminded me that I’ve had his award-winning masterpiece Between the World and Me on my TBR forever, but never got around to reading it.  Well, recently, I had the chance to pick this one up and I have to say, I was absolutely blown away.  In this book-length autobiographical essay, which is written in the format of a letter to his teenage son Samori, Coates shares his struggles growing up as a black man in America.  In meticulous, beautiful prose, Coates presents the harsh realities of America’s deeply ingrained attitudes toward race, placing it within the context of our country’s fraught history and the implications it has had (and continues to have) on society.  Coates does not mince words – he is searingly honest about the “American plunder” and how the nation was built on the backs of colored bodies.  At the same time, this essay can also be read as a father’s passionate (and desperate) plea for his son’s continued survival navigating a system where the odds are perpetually stacked against him.

In her endorsement of Between the World and Me back when it came out in 2015, the late, great Toni Morrison not only called the book “required reading,” she also praised Coates as essentially the heir-apparent to James Baldwin’s legacy: “I’ve been wondering who might fill the intellectual void that plagued me after James Baldwin died. Clearly it is Ta-Nehisi Coates.”  Indeed, a close reading of Coates’s book shows the numerous ways in which he pays respectful homage to Baldwin, from the epistolary format in which he frames his personal narrative (which is a nod to Baldwin’s famous letter to his nephew in his seminal essay collection The Fire Next Time) to the writing style, phrasing of words, narrative voice, and most significantly, emotional resonance.

This is a profound and powerful book – a modern classic that is absolutely a “must-read” for all Americans.  At once a gut-punch and a wake-up call, this book is not an easy read by any means, but it is a necessary read as well as a timely one (especially given the events of the last few days). Highly, highly recommended!