zerolss's reviews
102 reviews

In James Baldwin's 'Another Country,' love is a weapon; it is a double edged sword capable of hurting both the one posessing it and the one on the recieving end. It is water and it is poison. "How can you live if you can't love? How can you live if you do?" The character's need it even if it kills them. The entire book messy and complicated and despite the characters' attempts to treat love as something pure: race, gender, sexuality, jealousy, and repressed desires are proven to be inseparable from their relationships. 

From the beginning you understand that the characters are not meant to be good, moral people. The book starts off with Rufus recalling a toxic and abusive relationship (in which he was the abuser). He appears for one chapter but his character continues to haunt the rest of the story. 

The main cast of characters include Vivaldo (Rufus's best friend), Ida (Rufus's sister, dating Vivaldo), Richard (aspiring author), Cass (wife of Richard), Eric (aspiring actor who was previously living in France), and Yves (Eric's lover). There are three sets of defined relationships but the line between them blur as much as the line between platonic and romantic. The character's hurt each other and hurt themselves; they cheat and then talk about their lovers to the people they cheat with; the want what they shouldn't and want what they can't have. Despite it all, they still love, in their twisted and messy definition of what love is.

Every character is complex and James Baldwin does a really good job of establishing a basis for each character and relationship before turning it on you, so you feel disappointed when a character says and does things that are cruel. The story is structured like an onion; with every page, a layer is stripped off revealing the character's inner thoughts, repressed sexualities, prejudices etc. It's psychological as much as it's romantic and the best moments are the ones where you're deep into the character's thoughts even if you don't like the character. 

I loved the way book delved into race and whiteness. Majority of the character's are white besides Ida, Rufus, and Yves, and the book centers around the white character's understanding and treatment of race. The characters tell themselves they don't see race and many times it's because they don't want to. Over the course of the book, their progressive views get broken down and at it's core is guilt and willfull blindness. This is done in a very subtle and gradual way, never shoved in your face. The characters are not made out to be the villians nor any kind of saviors, rather the characters are written to expose the hypocrisy and ignorance of white liberals. There is a reason why the white characters can forget about their whiteness while Ida can't forget about her blackness; this leads to some of the most interesting conversations in the book. The characters don't become better people—this isn't that kind of book—they remain dislikable and condemnable and, up until the very end, refuse to truly open their hearts and face their white guilt.

Sexuality also plays a major role in the book. Besides the main gay couple, Eric and Yves, most of the male characters have desires they are made to surpress, through the shield of masculinity and pride. Sexuality isn't defined by labels like gay and bisexual, instead it's defined by the people these characters have loved and desired, missed chances, longings, and regrets.

The writing is beautiful and the book is hard to put down; you can't help but become completely absorbed in these character's thought and invested in their lives and relationships. It's hard to root for anyone (besides Ida in my opinion) and yet, you find yourself needing to know what happens next. You feel the love they feel, and mourn their heartbreaks and losses. Despite not liking them, you can't help empathize with them. James Baldwin has such a deep understanding of human psychology, exposing the characters inner thoughts and fears—thoughts that they hide from themselves—stripping these human beings down the their ugly core. 

There was one major issue in the book, which was the only thing which stopped me from giving it 5 stars. It'd feel wrong not to address the hints if misogyny throughout the book. While I do feel like the women in this book are well written and complex—just as complex as the male characters—I felt like the suffering of the female characters was taken as less important than the suffering of the male characters. If a women in this book suffered, the book never focused on her pain, at least not in a way it did with the men. It was hard for me to come to this conclusion because the writing feels like it's walking a thin line between being misogynistic through the viewpoint of the author vs depicting the very real misogynistic atmosphere of the 1960s. James Baldwin never excuses the men's behaviors and yet he brushes over them way too quickly.

Rufus is introduced as an abuser an rapist, being so terrible it leads to his victim ending up in an asylum. The characters acknowledge his wrong actions yet he still holds a saint like presence in the narrative, after his death.

There are also a lot of double standards.

Ida was coerced into sex by her agent and she suffers for it when she confesses this. Vivaldo on the other hand cheats on her with Eric and yet he never confesses this nor does he suffer for it, instead it's treated as an enlightening experience for him.

This is further complicates things when you understand that Ida is the only black woman, putting up with these toxic and messy white people alone without any kind of external support to turn to. Like I said, the line between misogyny in the writing and the world is very blurred, so while the depictions are not necessarily inaccurate, I wish what the women went through, specifically Ida, was written with more care and empathy.

That being said, I will eat up anything with morally gray, toxic characters and messy relationships. James Baldwin is a literary genius and his prose never fails to impress me. One final comment:

I found it really funny that the french guy is the only one that doesn't cheat (ignoring Richard because he's as boring and uninteresting as the book he writes)

This is a book about history, politics, culture, social justice, challenging the status quo—in other words it is a book about fashion and what fashion is capable of. The photography in this is absolutely beautiful, I'll probably leaf through the pages again just to focus on the images. The text accompanying the photos contain snippets of history and explain the significance of the black ivy style in music, art, film, politics, and education. The book covers more aspects of the civil rights movement—the different protests, sit-ins, marches, and major events—than any other book I've read has. 'Black Ivy' captures the heart of fashion and the power it can hold. It understands fashion as a reflection of society and also a means to push society forward. 

A revolutionary work of non-fiction. It was written over twenty years ago and is unfortunately just as relevant today. 'Are Prisons Obsolete?' consists of a series of essays that breaks down the role of prisons in the American justice system through the lens of race, gender, and capitalism. Her main argument calls for the abolishment of prisons; she breaks down why prisons are inhumane and why they cause more harm than good, using real life examples and history to deliver her point. 

Some of the topics she covers (but not all) include:

The essays are moving and eye opening; there were parts that I found shocking and part that made me sick to read. Angela Davis doesn't resort to flowery writing or long discussions of her own inner thoughts to deliver her point. Instead most of the writing consists of hard facts and statistics presented in a way that perfectly encompass the points she wants to make. Her work is brilliant on an academic level, the essays are structured in a thoughtful way and so is the content within each essay. Her writing has incredible flow and she knows exactly how long to linger on a point or case study. Despite how educated she is on the topic, her writing never comes off as confusing or pretentious in the way a lot of academic work can. Many times when I read work like this I have to reread parts and do my own research to fully understand. In this case I didn't have to. Her writing is so accessible and easy to understand, and Angela Davis manages to do this without simplifying the subject matter. 

I have so much respect for Angela Davis and her politics. Despite how often I've heard her name, this is my first time reading one of her written work and it won't be the last. These essays are essential to read, especially if you're an American. They should be taught in schools for both their significance and technical brilliance. 

Instructions for Dancing is a coming of age story that asks the question of 'Is love worth it?' A hard question to answer for a book to answer let alone a YA romance (two genres that I generally dislike) and yet, this book does it—faces the question head on. It's bold and heartbreaking, funny, philosophical, painfully real, and all around a masterpiece in a way that doesn't feel like it's trying to be. I don't care much for romance and I especially didn't care for it back in highschool and yet, I have never read a book that captured my experience of being a teenager in the way that this book has. 

In a way, this is the perfect modern coming of age story. Every situation that was brought up was a variation of something I've seen my friends or myself deal with—those experiences are the sole reasons why I'm able to connect with it. Instruction for Dancing captures the confusing and complicated tangle of emotions that come with being young, knowing better and the frustrating emotions that come with knowing better. Dealing with change, heartbreak, and loss and accepting that this is the life, that love can't exist without loss and yet loss exists because of love. The approach is heavier than most YA novels and I understand why that might not work for some people, because the overall tone of the book is lighthearted, but I think it only helps the book deliver it's point better. I can only respect for the author for going in the direction she did while still balancing that comedic playful energy. 

One of the aspects which make it a great coming of age is how down to earth and realistic Evie is. Romance books, especially first person romance books, often have the main character feel like a self insert. In this case, Evie's her own person. She feels like someone I could know, a friend of my sister's or a kid in my neighborhood, and throughout the book I felt myself growing attached to her. She's snarky, bold, wise, and still naive and emotional the way 18 year olds are. Every one her emotional responses and thoughts make perfect sense to me. Family and friends in her life and just as important as the romantic relationship. The relationship between Evie and her sister is painfully similar to my own relationship with my younger sister. Her parents are very present in her life and the book captures the transition of growing up and slowly starting to see your parents as peers, understanding the weight of emotions they carry and hide. The friendship dynamics are all so fun; all of Evie's friends have strong distinct personalities. As a group they goof around, argue, make dumb decisions, ponder on life, and have inside jokes. Their conversations go from stupid to philosophical to stupid again, a little too reminiscent of the kind of conversations between my own friends back when I was 18. 

I loved how realistic the romance felt; you see the starry eyed way Evie views X and yet, X doesn't feel like an idealized version of a love interest. Underneath it all he's just a very endearing kid, like her. The relationship between Evie and X is healthy but not in a preachy kind of way. They're chemistry is amazing and I love the way they banter joke around with each other. 

So much happens but it's paced in a way that isn't hard to digest. It balances the painful and happy moments well, never feels like too much, but always leaves you thinking. The author challenges conventions in a very subtle way: keeping secrets, the ethics of when to lie and tell the truth, forgiveness, etc. Normally when I read YA, I try to disconnect my own perspective and try to view it as a book meant for a younger audience and therefore judge it keeping this in mind. In this case, I didn't have to do that. This is the kind of book I would've loved in highschool and I love now. It's criminally underrated and succeeds in every way other romances don't. This is the kind of book that deserves a movie/tv show adaptation over any other YA I've read.

Final notes: the audiobook is amazing. I loved the narration.

I don't have any strong opinions on this book; I though it was a nice read and pretty educational. I loved the references sprinkled throughout and ended up reading a little on the town itself. The book is very true to history—Levittown is a real town and in the 1950s there was a black family, the Myers, who moved into the neighborhood and dealt with a lot of the issues the characters deal with. 

Calvin was an easy character to root for and I particularly lived his relationship with his brother and Eugene. I thought the romance was okay but wish Lily had been given more to shine as her own character; I feel like we mostly saw her through Calvin's point of view. I didn't care for Ben and Alex,

their turnaround felt abrupt

and they were too underdeveloped for me to care about their friendship with Calvin. In terms of the thriller element, I thought this book was lacking.

The death of Darren was brushed over too fast and the way it was handled felt unrealistic.

I liked the exploration into the privileges and struggles Calvin experienced as a passing person but still felt like it couldn't been explored deeper with a more complex lens. I know this review seems a bit critical and this could be because I'm not the target age group for this book but, that being said, I would highly highly reccomend it to someone younger like my sister. This is the kind of book I wish my English teachers in highschool had kept in the classroom for us to read. 

With impeccable prose, James Baldwin delivers an image of America through it's materialism, loneliness, and lovelessness. The essay topics range from critiques of capitalism to philosophical exploration, defining the value of love in a loveless country. As always, I'm blown away by the way he writes and the way he thinks. It's scary how relevant the essays are to the version of America today. 

Reading Open Water felt like having an intimate conversation with a friend; finishing it left me with a sense of loss. I felt so connected to the characters and the way they experience the world: through art, media and music (I can't stop listening to Solange now). The main character does 35mm photography like me, and I love the book understands the emotional intensity of capturing pictures of the people you love, and the desire to hold onto memories as something physical. 

The characters are not afraid to feel, cry, or love—or perhaps they are, but they acknowledge this. The mcs emotions are written with such a deep level of care and vulnerability—he's constantly reflecting on his thoughts and feelings regarding his relationships, within the context of being a black man and existing in a black body; his blackness defines both his fears and joys. 

It's rare to see books written in second person but it worked really well for this book. There were some points where the progression of events were hard to keep up with because of how much time was spent swimming in the mcs thoughts.

Despite touching on themes of race, masculinity, faith, freedom, and art, this is a love story. The progression of the characters feelings feel natural and, even though I wish we got a little more of the fmc, they both feel like real people with realistic flaws and vulnerabilities. The writing felt honest and yet still carried that dreamlike feeling of falling in love, all while being able to address larger themes that are as central to the narrative as the love itself. 

I think this is one of the worst things I've ever read. I wanted to check it out for the #womeninstem representation but I think getting a PhD has fried the fmcs brain so bad she doesn't know how to talk or think like a normal person anymore. I kind of felt like I was watching her have a psychological breakdown. Anyway, here are a list of things that were mentioned way more than they should have:

1. How tall the mmc is 
2. How short the fmc is
3. How Scandinavian the mmc is
4. How uneducated about Denmark the fmc is
5. Croissants 
6. Sustainability

It was very entertaining to see the number of different things you can say to make a Danish person uncomfortable! Atleast the book was pretty funny and not too long. 

The Motorcycle Diaries was such an interesting insight into the early life of Che Guevara and the early seeds of his thoughts, which would eventually evolve him into the revolutionary figure he as seen as today. It's hard to rate this book knowing it's essentially someones journal, so my rating is purely based on my reading experience. 

I really liked learning about the different countries in Latin America;  their indigenous histories and the way they've been affected by colonialism. Halfway through the book there was a change of tone, you could see Che's thoughts evolving and the increased depths of his observations and reflections. 

Despite everything, this book is a travel diary, so a lot of it was filled with descriptions of the landscape and atmosphere. While Che does talk about his thoughts and feelings, the entries are written in a somewhat impersonal way, more as a way of documenting what's around him than dissecting his own opinions. 

My favorite part was probably the last two entries and the afterward. I loved seeing the connection between Che's desire to be a doctor and his role in the revolution, the way it all connected back to his descriptions of the inadequate medical facilities he encountered throughout his journey.