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Santiago Partuferi Partuferi de Gomahnplay, Liberia de Gomahnplay, Liberia

Lecteur Santiago Partuferi Partuferi de Gomahnplay, Liberia

Santiago Partuferi Partuferi de Gomahnplay, Liberia

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Au moins, c'est un tas d'histoires courtes. J'ai apprécié la suite de AYSKOV (sp?) Et ai accompagné d'autres escapades de Hand. Je ne me souviens pas vraiment des autres histoires. Je le laisserais dans la salle de bain et le lirais chaque fois que vous en auriez l'occasion.

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I gave this book a 3 when I actually wanted to give it a 3.5. It's not really a 3, not quite a 4, but there we have it. I love critical essays in general, especially about literature and culture at large, and Cintra Wilson's short collection of essays was a great read in that respect. It's billed as hilarious, a book that, according to USA Today, will have you up "at 2:30 a.m., laughing like a loon." Not so, in my opinion. It's not all that funny. I would not use that word to describe this book. I'd use cutting. Fresh. Dark. Insightful. Brash. But funny? No. It's a book that desperately wants to be funny, I think. It's crammed to the brim with ludicrous similes and metaphors and imagery that are supposed to pass as humor. Perhaps they would be, if they were fewer and farther between, but when you can't read a page without being slapped in the face with five such 'humorous' devices, it wears a little thin. But the author's insight is incredible. This is a great read on our parasitic, hypocritical, cannibalistic fame-obsessed culture that I wish I could hit some of my fame-whore friends in the face with over and over until they either read it or were bludgeoned to death with it. Is that too violent? Sorry. I hate fame-whores. It was published in 2000, and given everything that's changed since then - particularly the race to the bottom in terms of reality TV, and the same in terms of celebrity scandals, and the explosion, proliferation, and collapse of Disney child stars at a rate we didn't see back in the wholesome 90s - this book and its examination of and complaints with pop culture seem almost quaint. I have to check the author out and see if she's written a book like this in the ten years since A Massive Swelling was published, because if so, I'm definitely picking it up. If you have any illusions about what fame is in America, in the whole world, really, thanks to our cultural hegemony, do yourself a favor and pick this up. I've been trying to simplify my life in this past year. This has meant donating gently worn clothes I don't wear that often, throwing out the rest, selling off old books, throwing away old mementos that are just gathering dust, and so on, but also simplifying myself: my goals, my ambitions, my outlook on life, my moods, my character. I've been trying to be a little more grounded, a little more down-to-earth, a little more humble, very conscious of my flaws but also very conscious of my strengths, and I think I read this book at the right time. It served as a great reminder that things like money and fame will never properly define or increase the quality of a good, noble, dignified human life, and that people who aren't famous or rich are still sexy, interesting, capable of great love and happiness, and wonderful all on their own, even if they've been trained from the beginning not to believe that. These ideas are actually very closely linked with Islamic Deen (way of life), and as an aside, I think this book will also appeal to people of faith who are trying to figure out that whole "in the world but not of it" business. ;) It's almost a wellness guide in that sense. Biting, clever, rude, and funny enough at times, but not hilarious. I'm blogging about this book in more detail at my book journal, of course, so if you want to read excerpts and whatnot, you can always do so here .

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Another great Piccoult book, because she made me think. What is the reality of suicide? An individual's right or society's failing? The ending added to the impact -- was right for the situation.