by Charles Wheelan

While many of the examples are woefully outdated (published 2002), the concepts are purely timeless. I laughed out loud a couple of times. Well, sometimes because of the outdated examples (“I recently visited a grocery store in Boulder, Colorado, that was experimenting with a self-serve checkout line.”); but sometimes because he was just really (deliberately) funny.

And sometimes because I raise Angora goats, and the great mohair subsidy of 1955 that lasted for about 35 years was one of his great examples of the power of organized interests to get legislation on the books that is a boon for the interests but way outlives its usefulness and isn’t big enough for any non-interested party to get worked up about enough to revoke. Although it seems some people got worked up about the mohair subsidy eventually, it just took 35 years. (We got into the hobby less than a decade too late to sit back and make a tidy living off of it.)

And sometimes I felt personal pride, while reading the whole chapter on the Federal Reserve. While it would be an overstatement to say we’ve forgotten 9/11, we’ve forgotten plenty of the details of those first weeks, months, and year of aftermath (again, publication date of this was 2002). “On September 11, 2001, hours after the terrorist attacks on the United States, the Federal Reserve issued the following statement: ‘The Federal Reserve System is open and operating. The discount window is available to meet liquidity needs.'” This was his example of simple statements speaking loudly. A simple, calming statement, with not so calm people behind the scenes doing not so simple things to make it so.

What was fantastic about this book was that it had no ax to grind. It’s facts and concepts. You judge. This is what government intervention can sometimes do for good. This is what it can sometimes do for ill. Know the basic economics presented in this book first; then maybe you can hold forth with an informed opinion.

by Gill Hornby

This really wasn’t bad. A novel where Jane Austen is a character has the potential to be really cheesy, but this wasn’t. It hewed closely to real-life events – main character Anne Sharp was real, was governess to Jane Austen’s niece Fanny, and became very close friends with Jane.

It only broke period and tested my straight face in one respect – when two characters fall ill at the same time, someone exclaims, oh, I hope we didn’t catch any germs from the babies! They’ve closed off the nursery as a precaution. Look, the germ theory of disease had not permeated the Austen milieu of the early 19th century. They thought people got sick from being outside in the rain. The book makes this faux pas once again later, talking about “infectiousness”. Anyone who has read any Austen book knows that people get sick from catching chills, and nobody stays away from them; on the contrary, as long as they are not too fatigued, they get visitors all the time.

This wasn’t enough to turn me off. Things could have gotten a lot more foolish, but our author practices restraint. I thought Henry Austen’s flirtatious behavior and its reciprocation was bewildering, he being an allegedly married man (no wife ever seen with him), but I guess it stayed within the bounds of the possible.

It was an OK read. The bar is low.

by Nguyen Phan Que Mai

It was just one horrible thing after another. I don’t care for this kind of book. Also very chick-lit – mother-relationship focused.

by Robyn Metcalfe

Who’d have thought a book all about food logistics would be so boring? OK, shut up.

It just never seemed to go anywhere. It felt like any paragraph could have been interchanged with any other. It all just read to me like a bunch of random sentences about food logistics.

I also have a pet peeve about the phrase “farm to plate”, and phrases about food getting to your “plate”, and some variation of this appeared on nearly every page. People rarely eat off of plates anymore.

Oh, and the subtitle: “Growing Bananas in Iceland and Other Tales from the Logistics of Eating.” I don’t remember a thing about growing bananas in Iceland. If it was mentioned, it was short enough for me to zone out over.

by Helen Joyce

This book should have been shorter and more balanced. That said, it states some things that desperately needed stating. Pediatric transitioning now seems more disturbing to me than ever.

Something that has always bothered me about our current understanding of trans identity, that I don’t think I’ve ever seen explicitly stated elsewhere, is that it seems to think gender is definable by the most culture-specific, superficial things – i.e. liking pink and liking dresses makes you a girl. Joyce discusses how being trans is explained to children: “You nod along to descriptions of restrictive gender norms, hoping for the right conclusion: that nobody need conform if they do not want to, and that there is nothing wrong with boys playing with dolls or girls playing with trucks. You long to hear that girls (or boys) are people with female (or male) bodies who behave however they damn well please; instead you hear that girls (or boys) are people who behave in feminine (or masculine) ways.”

Not a great way to kick off the reading year. It was a Xmas gift.

by Bonnie Garmus

Plot: Elizabeth is a woman trying to make it as a chemist circa 1960. She faces brutal sexual harassment. Her fellow-genius-chemist lover suddenly dies in a freak accident after impregnating her. She struggles to raise her baby and continue doing chemistry in her kitchen. In another freak turn of events, she lands a job hosting a chemistry cooking show. Finally, a series of unlikely events lead to the explanations behind her dead lover’s horrendous childhood.

Books that don’t feel true to the period drive me up a wall. I grew weary picking up my phone to fact-check all the anachronisms. A sampling:

• Someone who allegedly saw the Beatles already in 1960, and they already had long hair.
• Reference to “libertarian bullshit”. The word “libertarian” goes back a ways but wasn’t common in American discourse till the 70s.
• Reference to Swedish subsidized childcare. Sweden nominally began providing such directly after WWII, but it was ineffectual and didn’t really take off until, again, the 70s. People wouldn’t be throwing around Sweden as an example of workable socialism in 1960.

Second annoyance: one of my favorite tropes, the Bratty Kid. Granted I mostly liked Madeline, Elizabeth’s bastard child who is a 4-year-old kindergartener through most of the book. I’ll buy that she’s precocious and accept some over-the-top examples for comic effect. But I didn’t buy how everyone treated this 4-year-old as a tiny adult, not just her mom.

Thirdly, when we got glimpses into how Elizabeth actually conducted her inexplicably wildly popular cooking show, I wished the author would have left it up to our imaginations. Her explanation of the difference between ionic, covalent, and hydrogen bonds, trying to compare them to relationships, was not only ridiculous, but bore only the flimsiest relationship to cooking.

Finally, eh. It just wasn’t a serious book and had too much parenty crap for my taste – I don’t mean the Elizabeth-Madeline relationship, more all the crap about Elizabeth and Calvin’s parentage and pasts. The most common chick-lit climax of all… “And the mother/father really WAS…. [drumroll]” This is a book to toss.

Yes, I squeezed one last book into 2022 making for 58.

by Luke Rhinehart (pseudonym)

The fantastic premise and story is overshadowed entirely by the raunch and ugliness in this 1971 novel. I’ve read CATCH-22 and CUCKOO’S NEST which bear some similarity, but the level of misogyny here was disgusting, and I can overlook a lot. I quit halfway through – but changed my mind and decided to see what would happen.

Psychiatrist Luke Rhinehart is bored with his life, so one night he decides to roll some dice to tell him whether to rape Arlene, family friend, colleague’s wife, and upstairs neighbor. The dice say to do it. So he “rapes” her (she wants it).

Exhilarated, he starts applying dice throws to other decisions in his life. Things go crazy quick. He feels he has stumbled upon a deep psychological discovery:

“It was the goddam sense of having a self. What if – at the time it seemed like an original thought – what if the development of a sense of self is normal and natural, but is neither inevitable nor desirable? What if it represents a psychological appendix: a useless, anachronistic pain in the side?” Soon he has given up control of his entire life to the dice.

After he’s done this for some period of time, the thought of going back to pre-dice life frightens him. “I thought of writing that from then on all dice decisions would be recommendations and not commands. In effect, I would be changing the role of dice from commander-in-chief to advisory council. The threat of having ‘free will’ again paralyzed me; I never wrote the option.”

His wife at first has no idea what’s going on, only sees him going crazy; feels she’s going crazy herself seeing him swing from loving to distant seemingly on random whim (actually on random dice throws). One day the dice tell him to leave her and the children forever. It’s the hardest thing they have ever told him to do (worse than rape and murder) but he does it.

Another woman he takes up with demands, “How am I supposed to enjoy being with you if I feel you can go ‘poof’ at any minute from some random fall of a die?” “Everything may evaporate at any instant,” he retorts. “Everything! You, me, the most rocklike personality since Calvin Coolidge: death, destruction, despair may strike. To live your life assuming otherwise is insanity.”

I kept reading for the insights like this. And I went back to it after I quit because it really was a gripping story. At once point, when the dice tell him to murder someone he knows, he makes a list of 36 people and asks the dice to tell him who. His wife and kids are on the list. (Why does he put these horrible things on the lists in the first place!?!) I found myself actually covering the end of the chapter with my fingers so that I couldn’t accidentally see the name of the victim in advance. That’s a gripping story.

Another book it reminded me of, and maybe was trying to emulate, was LOLITA, in its first-person unapologetic wacko humor in the midst of disgusting subject matter – but in no way shape or form does it ever approach the literary quality of that classic.

Full disclosure, I am someone who has used random number generators to decide things like what to eat. NOT whom to murder, though.

by Kieran Setiya

Felt a bit like a bait-and-switch. I was expecting a book with a focus on the hardships of life, perhaps with lessons about acceptance. But while the chapter titles lead us off with the various types of “hard” we’re likely to encounter through life, the conversation quickly shifts to general philosophy and pop psychology. And little of that conversation was genuinely compelling or enlightening. I did bookmark this interesting tidbit, though – Setiya is quoting somebody else, a historian named Keith Thomas, on the topic of friendship in early modern England – “friends were valued because they were useful. One did not necessarily have to LIKE them.” Ha! I never heard such an analysis; I guess it makes sense, if you think about how marriage used to be much more of a social contract based on utility rather than a way for fulfilling love matches. Maybe friendship was similar… not based on any bosom-buddy kind of feeling, but more of a mutual aid society.

by Louise Perry

Provocative! Contrarian! Convincing? Partially.

Let’s put it in a nutshell: women lost something when we gained the Pill and the ability, nay expectation, to go around fornicating without repercussions (or so it seemed). Because contraception fails, and is not always used, women risk ending up with the life-changing experience of pregnancy without the societally ensured expectation of an ensuing marriage or means of support on the part of her paramour. Because men are bigger and stronger than women, women end up in situations where they can be overpowered and assaulted when they attempt to exercise their sexual freedom. Because (more controversially now) biology has built women to invest their emotions in sex more than men do, we just plain don’t reap the same rewards as men do from promiscuity. We have gained freedom, eliminated the stigma of out-of-wedlock birth and divorce, and these are no small things. But were they worth it?

The chapter titles give you a flavor:

• Sex Must Be Taken Seriously
• Men and Women Are Different
• Some Desires Are Bad
• Loveless Sex Is Not Empowering
• Consent Is Not Enough (this chapter about Porn Is Bad I ended up mostly skipping; wasn’t interested)
• Violence Is Not Love (anti-BDSM; again, I skimmed)
• People Are Not Products
• Marriage Is Good

This last chapter I thought would have and should have formed more of the meat of the book, because it was the strongest argument. The parts I skimmed or skipped just read like a monotonous litany of case studies, the kind of non-fiction I don’t like.

by Sam Harris

You know I have to have a very high regard for Mr. Harris to read a whole book exhorting me to consider Buddhism and meditation. And I do. He presents an empiricist’s take throughout.

I still really need to sit down with somebody who practices these things and ask all my questions.

I guess first off, WHY. Why do you want to transcend the self in the first place? The self is all we have. Harris’ main claim however is that the self is an illusion. Well, so is free will; but do you wake up every morning and lay there doing nothing, saying, let’s see what I do today?

And if you can alter your consciousness and see that the self is an illusion, if this is a way to mitigate anxiety and bad feelings, doesn’t it get rid of the good feelings too? Why would you want to live that way?

It’s sold as a way to get off the hedonic treadmill. We are constantly chasing pleasure, avoiding pain, bounced around among our emotions, seeking something that can never be permanent. Yup. That’s called the HUMAN CONDITION. The pursuit of happiness… it’s what life is ABOUT. I don’t get why you’d want to spend the effort fighting human nature, eliminating the joy that comes from achieving goals and looking forward to the future and looking back at happy times, in exchange for some steady state of emotion-free selflessness.

I know I’m not getting it entirely. That’s why I need to sit down with somebody.

I really do appreciate Harris’ efforts here. He is against every form of faith-based religion and claims nothing that is not empirically testable. My readings here and elsewhere about meditation and psychedelic use have ‘opened my mind’ a bit – to the extent I actually can read about Buddhism and meditation without running away screaming (much).

One exercise I did enjoy much was about “having no head.” You can’t see your head. Try pretending you don’t have one. Just pretend for a moment, don’t dwell on it. Look around. How does the world look? Douglas Harding: “This hole where a head should have been, was no ordinary vacancy, no mere nothing… It was a vast emptiness vastly filled, a nothing that found room for everything: room for grass, trees, shadowy distant hills…” Trippy. Drawing of headlessness by Ernst Mach: