In terms of the illustrations, this graphic novella is very much in the minimalist style, as other reviewers have noted. But there‘s actually quite a world for both the reader and the heroine to explore—without any omniscient narrative, readers identify with Helen in her quest to find out about the mysterious Emrys, and are swept along in this unsettling detective story which is deeply tragic and hopeful still, sometimes within the same panel.

This is the best way for beginners to approach the work of William Dunbar, second greatest of the 15th & 16th c. Scots makaris. I thought some of these poems would have been better served with less translation, as middle Scots is an English dialect, not an entirely different language. A Brash of Wowing has the first example in print of the modern English word “fuck” and Lament for the Makaris is an unjustly overlooked poem of the 16thc.

“Ignatius loves his donuts. He says to me, ‘Momma, I love my donuts.‘ He‘s out in the parlor right now looking at TV. Every afternoon, right as rain, he looks at that show where them kids dance.” —“Move along, you coxcomb,” Ignatius belched, the gassy eructations echoing between the walls of the alley. The women‘s art guild turned its hats toward the source of the volcanic sound. Ignatius glared at the young man‘s tawny velvet jacket...

No review does this book justice. It is a comic masterpiece and since humor is subjective, you‘ll have to read it for yourself and tell me later how right I am. You‘re welcome.

I have a very abrupt, sharp laugh that scares even the people who know me well and I frightened a few people who were nearby while I was reading this book. I didn‘t like them though. Read this book with hors‘ d‘oeuvres at the next dinner party you attend and find out who your true friends are.

I like reading books that have discreet notes and appendices. Interesting to see where Shakespeare got some of the inspiration for many of his tragedies. I think that Sophocles might say that rather than love, fate conquers all.

A book about books. The chapters are very short but still quite substantive, including titles like “the discarded book”, “the signed book” and my favorite chapter “the dictionary”. The author, Burkhard Spinnen, is German and the prose is often awkward and formal—-though not necessarily due to poor translation, I think that the author likely just has a very distinctive voice. I will definitely reread this book.

Maybe I just don‘t have any sense of wonder or appreciation for the magic of mundane oddities or whatever but this book was awful. Worst thing I have read in awhile. I think this was a weak short story that couldn‘t be published on its own merits so it was fleshed out with some enigmatic illustrations. Chip Kidd‘s name should be on the cover, as the artist/illustrator, he was responsible for the only good part of this book. 1/5

Not so much travel notes as a windy and winding prose-poem. I didn‘t understand a great deal of it but it was occasionally interesting and mercifully brief. 3/5

One reviewer notes: “Ms. Beard seems more eager to tell us what historians DON‘T know than what they do.” This is an occasionally frustrating tendency of hers but ultimately I appreciate her cautious approach.

This is an accessible and engaging history of Ancient Rome. It is funny, informative and almost never boring. This book nicely covers the major institutions of the Roman Republic-turned-Roman Empire, and the lives of the individuals who comprised them. An apocryphal quote attributed by Tacitus to an enemy of Rome nicely sums up the imperial project: “They create a desert and call it peace.” We may yet have something to learn from history.

4/5

St Augustine has a way of confronting paradox that is very intriguing. Book 1 contains questions I have asked of myself and of God, without receiving any heretofore discernible answer. Some of the chapters are more interesting than others, some are extremely dull. The theft of rotten peaches is quite the underwhelming sin. His conversion experience was very moving. 4/5

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your torrents, and all your waves and breakers sweep over me. —Ps 42:8

But even so, we still live by faith and not by sight, for we are saved by hope; but hope that is seen is not hope. —Book 13.13.14

Camus said he wrote this in “the American style”, meaning I think, short and declarative sentences that tell a grimy and sordid tale. It works. The best of both Hemingway and Kafka—this story might ultimately be a tragedy of toxic masculinity.

Years ago she watched a man ride//a diving bell to the bottom of the amazon to face/the mysteries God placed there. The chain broke,/and they pulled him to the surface smiling, stiff, refusing//to open his fists. They broke and unpeeled his fingers./No one wept or fought to hold it. She covered her eyes/so she wouldn‘t see what God, in his innocence, had done.

The past is never dead. It‘s not even past. —W. Faulkner

A dead or stillborn baby; betrayal; taboo loves and lovers: these images and motifs repeat throughout. The poems comprise a sustained lament to a god the narrator is uncertain exists yet continues to seek and long for.

Hilarious and vulgar; lighthearted and dark at once; thoroughly imbued a sense of the numinous that nevertheless remains irreverent to the end.

I‘ve only read the New Testament but so far, it‘s dynamite stuff.

This is one of the best memoirs I‘ve ever read, though admittedly I haven‘t read many. I‘m not sure some of the anecdotes he shares from his childhood are strictly “true” as in objectively reflecting reality (he gets too many clever one-liners in his fights) but I think it‘s as true as any autobiography can be. His fight with his uncle had me on the edge of my seat and as an ex-SDA, I can confirm the accuracy of his observations about the church.

The influence of WB Yeats‘s visceral imagery is strong and also Stephen Dobyns‘ macabre sense of humor. But Sasha West is her own poet, with a powerful and distinctive voice. I‘m eagerly awaiting her next offering.