Unfortunately, the latter parts of The Bear and the Nightingale shear away much of what I loved about its beginning and middle...These problems aside, The Bear and the Nightingale is a pleasure to spend time with. A rich and elegant debut...
...movie buffs will find her scholarship wanting, if not mystifying. Not only are there few new insights (Spielberg declined to be interviewed, which left Haskell “stung, a little red-faced, like a girl angling for a date and being rejected”), but the points she makes range from dubious to flat-out false.
I did not enjoy this collection. Enjoyment is beside the point. One does not enjoy being shown the child in Omelas' basement. But it's crucial to see, crucial to negotiate one's position to that child with clear eyes. I admire the achievement of this collection greatly...
Abramovic writes touchingly about romantic heartbreak, about the pain of separation from Ulay and her sense of betrayal when her husband, the Italian artist Paolo Canevari, left her...Perhaps what’s most unexpected are the flashes of humor.
...every time the novel edges into slapstick territory, Semple – she of Where’d You Go, Bernadette? super-fame – reveals a new piece of Eleanor’s tortured past. Uniquely, this story is told in small part through drawings...
...“The Other One Percent” is a rigorous, fact-based analysis of how cross-border flows of brainy and ambitious people make the world a better place. Politicians and policymakers in both America and in India should make sure they read it.
A little more clear-eyed realism might have redeemed this novel, but as it stands, it reads like the screenplay to some heartwarmingly twee movie with a ukulele soundtrack. It's a misstep by a writer who's capable of much better writing than this.
Mr. S offers a curious sort of double-voyeurism, with Jacobs inviting readers to vicariously experience his own vicarious access to the life of one of pop-culture's preeminent icons. Sinatra's story is so compelling and larger-than-life, though, that even a secondhand account like Jacobs' packs a powerful punch.
Mitchell's ability to throw his voice may remind some readers of David Foster Wallace, though the intermittent hollowness of his ventriloquism frustrates. Still, readers who enjoy the "novel as puzzle" will find much to savor in this original and occasionally very entertaining work.
L’Ouverture nonetheless showed himself to be those men’s superior, philosophically, politically and militarily — a point made by C.L.R. James that survives mostly intact in Philippe Girard’s sophisticated and anti-mythological biography.
Reading ancient literature can occasionally feel like a lesson in the disposability of women. But change is the essence of Homeric poetry, and with ODY-C, two male comic book creators have made a Greek hero worthy of women.
But this memoir is satisfying in a way that a Hughes film never could be, and the author's story will be achingly familiar to anyone who relied on Hollywood for a respite from reality but who came away disappointed.
As with Smith’s previous novels, commentary is delightfully folded into the fiction. More so, simulating the novel’s deep appreciation of dance, Smith’s prose, too, takes on a sort of accelerated, feverish cadence. Reading parts aloud to myself only felt natural.