...Falling Out of Time permits itself the freedom of despair. It has a necessary feel: a book that needed to be written. It reads like a postscript but that, after all, is what an elegy is.
National Book Critics Circle Award winner Bailey (Creative Writing/Old Dominion Univ.; Farther & Wilder: The Lost Weekends and Literary Dreams of Charles Jackson, 2013, etc.) justifies his attraction to alcoholic subjects (John Cheever, Richard Yates, Charles Jackson) in this bleak, repetitious memoir.
Kaku is not shy about quoting science-fiction movies and TV (he has seen them all). Despite going off the deep end musing about phenomena such as isolated consciousness spreading throughout the universe, he delivers ingenious predictions extrapolated from good research already in progress.
Werth very aptly captured the drama of the pharmaceutical industry in which, although great profits are possible, great risks are also taken.
Hopefully writing My Age of Anxiety proved to be cathartic for Mr. Stossel. Reading My Age of Anxiety will surely prove to be inspirational for his compatriots.
In the end I’m not sure that some of the central questions about writing and drinking ever really get answered. Their alcoholism may have destroyed them, but did it in some way make them great writers?
In the end, the main value of Happy City is not in saying something new, but in saying forcefully what can't be said too much.
Watts shows how particularly attuned Carnegie was to the psychological needs of Americans beaten down by the Great Depression, who needed to hear that positive thinking would garner positive results.
It is worth noting as well, is it not, that since these odds are not at all favorable, we probably should be skeptical of characterizations of physical, emotional or material difficulties as “desirable,” lest it lead to blaming the victims.
Told in crisp, unsentimental prose and supplemented with excerpts from soldiers’ diaries, medical reports, e-mails, and text messages, their stories give new meaning to the costs of service—and to giving thanks.
..."I speak of the anguish of dying, of loss, of fear, of loneliness, of being desperately beside oneself, of the sense of futility." The Novel Cure is at its best when it tackles these fundamental questions, and many of its titles will be added to my bibliotherapy list.
A book about the death of a spouse that is unlike any other—book or spouse—and thus illuminates the singularity as well as the commonality of grieving.
And gripping though the Damascus narrative is on its own terms, readers may have trouble picking up the broken threads of this highly complex multicharacter tale after so many involved and absorbing excursions ...
Ms. Butler’s memoir does a great service to all families dealing with the decline in health of a loved one by showing the psychological, physiological, and financial costs of the illness on the caregivers.
Mullainaithan and Shafir present an insightful, humane alternative to character-based accounts of dysfunctional behavior, one that shifts the spotlight from personal failings to the involuntary psychic disabilities that chronic scarcity inflicts...
Over 3/4 of the book is analysis of the different strength types, so without the ability to share results easily with those who are close to you, the book is pretty empty.
“The Reason I Jump” may raise questions, as many books have, about the nature of autism. But it raises questions about translation as well — that “icing.” Translation, at its best, is a dance between an objective search for equivalent language...The parents of an autistic child may not be the best translators for a book by an autistic child.
"The Sports Gene" is bound to put the cat among the pigeons in the blank-slate crowd who think that we can all be equal as long as we equalize environmental inputs such as practice. But the science says that it just ain't so. Not even 10,000 hours of wishful thinking will change nature.
No triumphs of modern psychiatry on display here, but rather a sympathetic portrait of seriously ill patients...
In “Lost Girls,” Robert Kolker exhaustively investigates the tragedy of five girls who fell victim to the allegedly victimless crime of prostitution. His grim chronicle sounds a warning that the pimp patrolling the street may seem no more of a menace than the invisible murderer...