Tag Archives: nonfiction

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer (unabridged audiobook read by Philip Franklin; 9 hrs 10 min on 8 discs): In the mid 1990s, Krakauer was sent as a journalist to join an guided expedition to the top of Mount Everest. Things go massively wrong and twelve people lose their lives. This is, as perhaps should be expected, an extremely difficult book to get through. The history and mechanics of climbing Everest and mountaineering in general are fascinating, but this is clearly the tale of one man’s struggle with grief and loss – a tragedy that is, to me, completely senseless. There’s no necessity to summit Everest. I get why people do it, but there’s nothing noble in dying to do so. I’m not usually interested in sad stories, but the personality of Krakauer’s writing kept me going. The details are shared with such frankness and intimacy that I felt like I was there. Would I recommend this book? Sure, as long as you understand what you’re getting yourself into: there’s no redemption, no happy ending. As such, it should be required reading for anyone planning to scale a major peak, even with a guide. It is not something to be undertaken lightly. Neither, for that matter, is this book, though in a completely different sense.

A note on the audio: Since this was a nonfiction book and thus relatively little dialogue, Franklin had no need for distinct voices. However, his subtle (and, to my ears, accurate) accents for the folks from New Zealand, Britain, and Texas, and elsewhere really accentuated the experience.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Sex, Murder, and the Meaning of Life by Douglas T. Kenrick

Sex, Murder, and the Meaning of Life by Douglas T. Kenrick (unabridged audiobook read by Fred Stella; 7.5 hours on 6 CDs): I suspect most people’s objections to psychological research that demonstrates a trend toward our more base instincts (e.g., it’s all about mating!) is rooted in a basic misunderstanding of how said research is conducted. It’s a series of surveys and other tests administered to a semi-random group of volunteers. The findings imply general tendencies – none of which are all that surprising, by the way – but that does not mean we are mindless automatons at the mercies of our impulses. Obviously. For example, women tend to notice and remember powerful men regardless of looks while men are more drawn toward beautiful women regardless of status. Does this mean I judge every male I come across by his earning potential? Of course not. But it’s not a shocking notion that we may subconsciously be more aware of those more ideally suited to pass along our genes. And that’s most of what this book is about: our view of the world through the eyes of our evolutionary makeup, most of which has to do with creating viable offspring. I do wish homosexuality had been mentioned earlier and delved into more deeply, but if you’re only curious in heterosexual reactions, this could be quite interesting. Alas, there was very little I hadn’t heard before, and nothing I could not have suspected on my own, but this might serve as an interesting book to one new to the field of evolutionary psychology.

A note on the audio: Kenrick mentions early on that he has a New York accent, so Stella is a good choice. As an added bonus, his friendly, conversational tone makes what could in less competent hands (throats?) be somewhat dry material fun, quirky, and personal.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat by Oliver Sacks

The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat by Oliver Sacks: This is quite possibly the most amazing collection of true stories I’ve ever read. I’d encountered Sacks’s work in the past only through the movie Awakenings (which I didn’t even know was him, given that the doctor in the film is named Malcolm Sayers), but that was merely the tip of the iceberg. Herein is described a man whose memory failed him, where he perpetually believes it to be some forty years ago, and cannot remember anything that’s happened since for more than a minute or two at a time. A woman who has trouble hearing people over the deafening Irish music playing in her head. A man whose visual understanding of the world is so diminished that he literally cannot identify a rose until he smells it, though he can describe its shape and colors to the smallest detail. And on and on. The mind is an amazing machine, and this book of various ways it can misfire is not at all depressing, as one might expect. Indeed, it’s actually full of hope, a reminder of how ingeniously mankind can adapt to even the most unusual and strenuous of circumstances.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

White River Junctions by Dave Norman

White River Junctions by Dave Norman: The title caught my eye because I’ve actually visited White River Junction, Vermont, and found it to be a charmingly quirky little town. The book is divided into two sections: the buildings and the people. The first is a series of essays detailing the histories of assorted structures in WRJ, and was definitely my favorite part. I loved reading about the railroad boom and subsequent demise, the rebirth of the Tip Top building, and the rest. It made me want to go back to WRJ and take another look at these places. The second section consists of interviews with elderly locals, and while they were reasonably interesting stories, they did not feel as connected to this specific area. Norman’s obsession with “what makes a Vermonter” grew tiring, especially as all the supposedly Vermont-specific characteristics listed are common to pretty much all rural folks who lived through the Great Depression. Unfortunately, what I’d hoped would be written as a love letter to WRJ turned out to be more of a eulogy. Norman comes across as quite pessimistic about the economic future of the town, and I was disappointed he did not write more about the more successful fixtures of the area, such as the Center for Comic Studies and the memorable Main Street Museum. Oh well. If nothing else, this book did inspire me to want to revisit the area, and if it does that to every reader, there may be hope for this little town yet.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain (unabridged audiobook read by the author; 8 hours on MP3): The tagline for this book is something like “sex, drugs, and haute cuisine,” and that about sums it up. Bourdain takes the reader on a journey through his culinary days, from dishwasher to head chef. This is not a good book for vegetarians, those offended by crude language, or anyone grossed out by frank descriptions of animal flesh. I found, in general, that these autobiographical essays entertained me thoroughly but also convinced me that I’d rather not experience such things first hand. Bourdain’s average day makes me tired just thinking about it. While I appreciated the advice about restaurants and tips for would-be chefs, my favorite parts were unquestionably the anecdotes and adventures. Bourdain’s cynical but generally amused and appreciative view of the crazy characters he’s encountered never failed to make me smile. Sure, these are not people I’d want to associate with in person but they’re fun to get to know vicariously. I will definitely have to pick up some of Bourdain’s other books.

A note on the audio: I had to get used to Bourdain’s swift reading, but having enjoyed him on No Reservations for ages, it didn’t take long for me to adapt to his brisk cadence.

1,001 Things You Didn’t Know You Wanted to Know by Anna Mantzaris

1,001 Things You Didn’t Know You Wanted to Know by Anna Mantzaris: Most of the factoids in this book I already knew, and a fair majority of the rest were things I didn’t care if I knew, but I did indeed find a solid handful of items I didn’t know I wanted to know, so I’ll call this one a win. I like weird little trivia books. And while I was sad to learn that Crayola retired “raw umber” in 1990, I was amused to learn that both leotard and doily are named after men, and that there is no documentation of when people first started wearing hats. Sure, this isn’t the sort of book you’d want to sit down and read straight through (which, um, I guess is exactly what I did), but it’s reasonably entertaining to page through from time to time.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Borneo Tom by Tom McLaughlin

Borneo Tom by Tom McLaughlin: A former Maryland schoolteacher with an incurable neurological disease decides to live his dream and explore Southeast Asia. The story is told in a series of one-page vignettes, with cartoony sketches on the facing pages, so it goes by quickly. While I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to visit the lands Tom describes, I had a great time experiencing his adventures vicariously. His no-holds-barred description and somewhat zany sense of humor made for a fun read, and also offset the more somber passages well. I was particularly amused by his visit to the Equator, and quite moved by his optimism in the face of such poverty and ecological damage. Borneo is one of those places I haven’t read much about, so this was a real treat. I still don’t want to visit in person, but I could listen to Tom’s stories all day.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Rin-Tin-Tin: The Movie Star by Ann Elwood

Rin-Tin-Tin: The Movie Star by Ann Elwood: Before reading this book, I knew basically nothing about the original Rin-Tin-Tin, a German shepherd dog who starred in a number of silent films (and few talkies) in the 1920s and 30s. This is not the Rin-Tin-Tin of the famous 1950s television series, nor the considerably less famous early 1990s television series, but rather their predecessor. From his storied (and probably false) origins in war-torn France through his death and legacy, this meticulously researched examination of the first real (canine) movie star leaves no stone unturned. I was less interested in the plots of the films than in the society in which Rin-Tin-Tin lived, this little pocket between World War I and the Great Depression. The ASPCA was just starting to gain mainstream political clout, the first talkies were released, and journalistic integrity was still evidently largely unknown. (Seriously, the number of conflicting newspaper reports cited got a bit silly after a while.) It helps that I have a weird fascination with the turn of the 20th century to begin with, but even so, I found this study of one of the most famous non-human actors in history to be surprisingly engaging. If you are a dog-lover or have an interest in early film history, consider picking this one up.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Creative, Inc. by Meg Mateo Ilasco and Joy Deangdeelert Cho

Creative, Inc. by Meg Mateo Ilasco and Joy Deangdeelert Cho: I only got about halfway through this book, but not because it’s bad – it’s just not relevant to my life. I’m sure the freelancing advice is excellent, but most of the interviews are with photographers, graphic designers, and illustrators, fields I know (and care) next to nothing about. Don’t get me wrong: the writing is friendly and the content is organized well. I just don’t particularly enjoy reading books about business management, even those tailored to artsy people. Simply put, I am not a member of this book’s target audience.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Don’t Know Much About Mythology by Kenneth C. Davis

Don’t Know Much About Mythology by Kenneth C. Davis (unabridged audiobook read by John Lee; 20 hours 20 min on 17 discs): Wow, this book is long. I mean, it’s interesting, but there’s so much information covering so vast a scope that reading it is like running a marathon. Each section covers a geographical region such as Africa or Western Europe, with the countries boasting the most well-documented mythologies getting the most treatment, such as Egypt, India, and Greece/Rome. Each section includes a timeline, a “who’s who” of gods and goddesses, relevant quotes, and answers to common questions like “was there really a Trojan War?” Though many comparisons are made, there is no separate section for Judeo-Christian mythology, having covered it in depth in his other book, Don’t Know Much About the Bible. Davis holds nothing back, describing a representative sample of each culture’s myths in (often hilarious) detail. For example, I was surprised (and kind of disgusted) by how many creation myths involved excrement and other bodily fluids of the gods, and laughed at the tales of the trickster god’s magical penis. The little asides and pop culture references were also often amusing. Though admittedly not meant to be a thorough compendium of mythology (and I would have loved for the “New World” section to have been much longer), it is certainly an excellent start. The writing is very accessible and has made me want to read more of the original myths, particularly the Norse and Egyptian tales. A word of warning, though: once you read the section on Egypt, you will never see the Washington Monument the same way ever again.

On the audio version: It’s always interesting to listen to the same people read vastly different books. Lee is an excellent narrator, with the added personal bonus of making me feel like the book was being read to me by Dawsey Adams. The two short myths at the back, specially recorded just for the audiobook, were fun and well worth listening to, even if the African one about the lion was kind of tragic.

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