Review: 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos

12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos by Jordan B. Peterson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Several times over the past several months, I heard Jordan B. Peterson’s name, dropped like a detonation of sorts, in the middle of the most unlikely online discussion platforms and podcasts. Who is this guy, I wondered, and how is he making so many people angry?

Rather than take information second-hand from dubitable online sources, I thought it best to read his book carefully and decide for myself if he is worth all the fuss. Oh, he is.

It was not hard to give this book my full attention. Any psychologist/author who makes powerful, frequent and simultaneous reference to evolutionary science and the Gospels of Jesus Christ, has already accomplished the improbable if not the impossible. He set my thoughts galloping like bloodhounds and I had to put the book down, now and again, just so I could have my pulse return to normal. Common sense presented after a thorough, honest, pure search for truth does this to me.

I know why he offends. His words prove that virtue-signaling complacency is not impregnable but rather easily collapsible. He parses false theories, stepping into the abyss on topics surrounding gender equality, social hierarchies, right vs. wrong, and nihilistic worldviews, with astounding clarity, calm, and fearlessness. I am so glad that his voice is being heard.

Rule 7, which states “do what is meaningful, not what is expedient” and Rule 8, which states “tell the truth, or, at least, don’t lie”, were my favorites. Why? Because he convinced me thoroughly that what is expedient works only for the moment and that every non-truth, every flat out lie, every lie of omission and all hyperbole will one day exact its price. I have learned this the hard way more than once already, but his reminder, particularly in the context of social justice, is so very timely.

Be brave. Read his work.

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Review: An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth

An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth by Chris Hadfield
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

When I first told my four kids that I was reading this book (they like to keep abreast of my literary ventures), their responses surprised me.

K1: Oh, yeah, he’s so impressive.
K2: Cool, Hadfield, I know that guy.
K3: Chris Hadfield? I follow him on Twitter.
K4: Who? What astronaut?

Me: Thank you, James (K4). I’m glad I’m not the only one who did not know of this guy.

K4: Oh, never mind, Hadfield that Canadian, yeah, I know him, too. How could you not know of him, mom?

Me: Ok, perhaps I’m a little behind on my knowledge of accomplished Canadian astronauts. Sue me - the book had a zippy title and came recommended. Little did I know that Col. Hadfield, master of the universe it seems, would end up shining a light on my Philistine-like familiarity of the previous two decades of space exploration. Sheesh. Mea culpa….

I confess that the nuts and bolts of astronauting do not interest me in the least. Life on earth does interest me, though. If nothing else, the writings of a man who spent a considerable amount of time off the planet Earth would have to have a fresh perspective to offer. He did.

The author’s modesty is the first noteworthy thing. He’s a regular guy who wanted to be an astronaut and he simply kept at it. A little bit of luck in timing and a whole dang lot of hard, hard work, and he achieved great things. Conspicuously absent from his vocabulary are all vapid platitudes like “Reach for the Clouds! Dream Big!”. Oh, bless you for that gift, Col. Hadfield.

Instead, he continually talked about the endless preparation, the endless repetition of tasks until these tasks could be done half-asleep with eyes closed, and how success would only arrive by sweating all of the small stuff. All of it. Always. Wow.

I have always found discipline to be a great source of happiness and liberty; oh, joy of joys, here’s a guy who preaches it. He doesn’t want you to visualize success; he wants you to practice it every single day (IRL, guys, IRL!). His results, year by year, demonstrate how a regimented existence is the key to so much freedom and pleasure and he spoke frequently about how the most productive crews were the happiest ones.

All of the advice in this book comes from a guy who will admit that he had to study harder and practice more than some. He grew his talent. He decided to enjoy the work. He decided to enjoy the repetition. He chose to sweat the small stuff all day, every day, and to enjoy that choice. Brilliant.


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Review: The Man in My Basement

The Man in My Basement by Walter Mosley
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was an impulse read - one of those books I picked up at the library, opened to the middle, read one paragraph, and thought, ok, I'll give it a go .

I had read a Mosley book a few years back and thought it was just ok. I found his lewdness distracted from that story and in this book, I felt the same. He is preoccupied with a sophomoric kind of smuttiness; I don't really get this and think it diminishes his message but, hey, it is clearly just a style thing.

On the bright side, I enjoyed the story's pace and I respect the magnitude of the burden he took on when constructing his central character. The journey from inertia through brutal nihilism and back to solid (yet familiar) ground was good stuff.



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Review: Washington Square

Washington Square by Henry James
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have only just discovered the writing of Henry James. I simply could not put this book down. There are only a handful of writers who can so successfully travel through a man or a woman's unspoken thoughts ..... thoughts of propriety, impropriety, foolish hopes, devious schemes, love and detestation. It is a book about what is never said as much as it is a book about what is said which should never be said. It describes the many little deaths we will experience as others trifle with us and as we deny ourselves moments of heroic change. It is almost miraculous to me that someone has captured the infinite inscrutability of those who live a life of the mind, rather than a life of more concrete stuffs.
I loved this book.

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Review: Berlin Alexanderplatz

Berlin Alexanderplatz by Alfred Döblin
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Stylistically, not really my cup of tea. I have read so many other reviews all singing this book's praises. I don't get it. I have read in several places that this is "an important work". I don't get this either.

It is original, I'll give it that. It also has an artistic backbone which is very clever, so I liked that. Finally, it is an effective slice of history of the Weimar Republic. It does a good job revealing the underbelly of Berlin in the late 1920's.

However, I found myself yearning for a single declarative sentence. Maybe a little more punctuation, so you know who is speaking? The stream of consciousness thing doesn't work in a novel. Fine for poetry...but it gets cumbersome when there are chapters and chapters of it. As a reader, I felt I had to work too hard throughout to figure out what was going on.

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Review: All the Light We Cannot See

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Be prepared to lose some sleep - I know I did. I just could not close the book, no matter how word-drenched I felt. The story is a little bit of everything: historical fiction, beach read, magical, honest, way more than a beach read, love story, philosophy. Doerr does a spectacular job in "keeping it real". He does not address evil and kindness straight-on. Both are ever-present. Both take their fair share from the lives in the story. Life is like this. It tore at me, though. I'll remember it for a very long time.

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Review: The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I don’t know what to say about this book. I felt I had to read it; the received wisdom is that it’s one of those “important” books, and I am on a mission to read older, “important” books.

Maybe I’m too plain-thinking. Maybe I failed to spend my time noting the metaphors, political rhetoric, philosophical delineations, allusions and foreshadowings. Or maybe I was simply pierced by the utter annihilation of hope which stained every page, and so I missed all the literary stuff.

I want so much to praise this young author, only 22 when she wrote it! I guess I should have waited a few weeks to write this review, because right now I find that my own human inclination to say and think nice things has been temporarily garroted by the enormity of the sadness in this year-long slice of life in the deep South during the Depression.

Pain which is merely observed is, actually, journalistic. But pain shared is something different. There were times in my life when the 65 cent Septa bus fares were carefully set into piles for the week and without those neat little stacks, I could go nowhere. Do nothing. One financial misstep of a mere 65 cents had some serious consequences. I guess I was poor, but I did not know it. That’s because I had hope.

I cannot find the hope in this book. The privations of the people (of all colors) who live in these pages is immortal. Their impoverishment has an eternal pall. Is that the point our young author intended to make? If one has never, ever had a close encounter with poverty, I guess this would be an important book to read for the cultural literacy, etc.

The plot is clumsy at times, probably because the author wants to make a broader point on “the human condition” and she is contriving the events rather obviously to this end. The characters are very skillfully developed, but the dull torpor of their intractable hardships was enervating.

I don’t know if I agree that this is a “very important book”. I know that it is a very sad one.

My star ratings have to do with how much a book made me think, hence, the four stars here.

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