20 Book Reviews for 2020
20 recent book reviews, in reverse chronological order. The best here are written by great journalists.
Super Pumped: The Battle for Uber by Mike Isaac
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Posting this (with a sigh) on the next-to-last-day of 2019:
This is a really good book… although not quite as good, even if in the same vein (excuse the expression), as last year’s “Bad Blood.”
The journalism here is terrific, just like “Bad Blood” and “Catch and Kill.” The problem — and why I kept putting this aside before finishing it — is that there’s no one to root for here.
Not only that, but all the bad guys — and, yes, they are all guys — wind up insanely rich in the end.
It was painful to read about all the excess, all the wasted wealth, all the casual crimes (the incident of a female Uber employee’s head being forcibly shoved into a pile of cocaine is simply noted in passing).
There’s no moral to this story, and so much damage done in the wake of Uber’s success.
It’s page 364 of 365, and I’m ready to close the book on the “Super Pumped” decade, when technology combined with greed to widen the gap between rich and poor.
I have to believe that in the 2020s, Mike Isaac will have better stories to tell.
Death in Venice by Thomas Mann
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Having fond memories of this novella from my school years at Notre Dame, I started reading the Kindle version… and found myself stalling, putting the book aside, then dreading to reattempt to follow the stilted language of the opening pages. This was the “Dover Thrift Edition,” translated by Stanley Appelbaum. (In his prodigious and accomplished career, he had translated Ovid’s “Art of Love,” another book I fondly recalled from school.)
But I guess I’m not in Indiana any more. Having lived in New Jersey for so long, I can now officially confirm I have no patience.
I eventually tried the Audible version of a newer, award-winning translation (by Michael Henry Heim) read by Simon Callow. Somehow, listening to a sophisticated English accent made the passing words and story tolerable. But disappointing still.
I wasn’t moved by the book. The main character is simply creepy. The decay of the setting isn’t as profound as I once thought. The Venice of Gustav von Aschenbach is Disneyland compared to the portents in the real world today, Venice included.
College Me would have chalked up my disappointment to the translation. I’ve always been wary of literary works that are not in their native language. But as Michael Cunningham notes in his very wise introduction: “All novels are translations, even in their original languages… None of us reads precisely the same book, even if the words are identical.”
The thing is, I can’t tolerate leaden genius any more.
On this, perhaps Aschenbach and I would agree: Let me be awed and thunderstruck by all the simple beauty in the world, even as our world begins to fall apart.
Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators by Ronan Farrow
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
After reading this book, I can’t even…
I can’t even believe the breadth and depth of Harvey Weinstein’s behavior — or his enablers.
I can’t even believe that NBC News refuses to conduct an independent investigation of how it botched the handling of this story.
I can’t even express how much I admire the tenacity and talent of Ronan Farrow.
Like “Bad Blood,” “Catch and Kill” is another great work of investigative journalism. It is an outstanding read, chronicling the abuse of power.
The Front Runner by Matt Bai
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book — originally titled “All the Truth Is Out” — is an earnest recounting of Gary Hart’s place in history.
I read it after watching a recent earnest movie adaptation. It was OK. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy the book any better than I enjoyed movie.
Earnest is not my cup of tea. I prefer Ernest, as in Hemingway. I’m not a big fan of politicians.
Still, I am a big fan of journalists, and it’s hard not to be impressed by author Matt Bai, who, until recently, wrote political columns for Yahoo News.
Until recently, I was a media relations director for Yahoo’s corporate parent, Verizon.
Matt’s world and mine never collided. Even though we both received paychecks from the same company, the world of the writers and editors who worked on Yahoo, TechCrunch, Engadget, HuffPo and other Verizon-owned media properties were never, as far as I could ever tell, interfered with by their corporate parent. In this way, Verizon was more supportive of journalists than, say, NBC News was of Ronan Farrow.
On both sides (corporate and publishing), we ensured objectivity and professionalism. Every time TechCrunch mentioned Verizon in a post it added an editor’s note describing the company as the site’s “corporate overlord.”
This was as it should be. At one point, we in Verizon’s communications department even sought to purchase “Corporate Overlord” t-shirts as a team-builder, but some PR issue or another diverted our attention.
All of which is to say that I do not pretend I can research, write and provide context as well as Bai and his colleagues.
I’m just a lowly reader, but this book didn’t engage or excite me.
That is, except for two redeeming scenes: the recounting of two of the author’s interactions with Gary Hart that gave me goosebumps.
One scene involves Hart’s plaintive self-evaluation, years after his PR debacle. He cites a well-known New Testament parable and almost breaks down in tears.
The second scene occurs in Bai’s evocative final pages.
There’s a question left hanging as the book ends, delicately suspended in mid-air, described with extraordinary perspective and heartache.
Bravo, says the former corporate overlord. Bravo, I say again, for what it’s worth.
The Real Lolita: The Kidnapping of Sally Horner and the Novel that Scandalized the World by Sarah Weinman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This book is about the kidnapping of Sally Horner… and, as the subtitle breathlessly intones, “the novel that scandalized the world.”
This is basically a solid true crime story about a heartbreaking tale of the 1948 abduction of an 11-year-old girl from Camden, NJ.
I’m glad that Weinman told this tale with such empathy and thoroughness. Where the book loses me is that, throughout, Weinman is shocked… SHOCKED… that Vladimir Nabokov might have had some knowledge of this crime when writing “Lolita.”
Nabokov makes one parenthetical reference to Horner in “Lolita,” and a thorough vetting of his estate yielded one reference to her among the thousands of legendary index cards he used for notetaking and organization. This should hardly be surprising. It’s the 1950s version of finding a questionable link in someone’s comprehensive browsing history.
Weinman uses this slim reed to indict, and even mock (see Vladimir chasing butterflies in his funny clothes; see his beleaguered wife Vera try to protect his image like a corporate PR director) the author for crass exploitation of a sex crime.
I don’t know how much Nabokov knew about Sally Horner and, frankly, I don’t care.
I also don’t need Weinman to tell me that “Lolita” is exploitative at its core.
It’s because I’ve grown up. I now regard all of Nabokov’s pretty words as nothing more than pedophilia played out in prostitution, threats and manipulation, as Lolita cried herself to sleep every night.
In another book — Matt Bai’s “The Front Runner” — the author is conversing with Gary Hart many years after his PR debacle.
Hart is reexamining his life and quoting from, of all things, the New Testament.
He can’t quite shake the implications of Jesus’ parable of the talents. Hart wonders aloud to a journalist if perhaps he hadn’t put to best use all his God-given abilities and blessings. Then he almost begins to cry.
I feel that way about myself most days. I feel that way about Nabokov too.
What if Nabokov had written a bold and insightful story about someone like Hart — or the homeless woman I just passed on the street? What great work of art could Nabokov have produced on the theme of the manipulation of power among adults, perhaps in terms of a character like Harvey Weinstein?
What if he had simply written about the intersection of life and baseball?
Speaking of which…
Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game?: The Improbable Saga of the New York Mets’ First Year by Jimmy Breslin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
As I recently discovered, a non-stop plane ride from New York to the heart of middle America is the exact amount of time it takes someone like me to read this short book by Jimmy Breslin, whose writing is an acquired taste.
In 1963, only five years after the American publication of “Lolita,” Breslin wrote about the intersection of life and baseball.
He wrote about the 1962 New York Mets. My sin, my soul.
Let’s-go-Mets: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of only one step to end, at three, by howling at the moon. Let’s. Go. Mets.
The Mets, in the immortal words of Breslin, are losers — just like nearly everybody else in life.
This book is about the most poetic season of the most poetic team in the most poetic of sports. It’s recommended reading, full of life’s wisdom.
These days, I enjoyed it more than “Lolita,” although not as much as I enjoyed and appreciated Ronan Farrow’s book about Harvey Weinstein. I don’t know what that says about my life. I must be a loser too.
Look at this tangle of thorns.
On the Beach by Nevil Shute
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I’m someone who, years ago, spent time on his honeymoon cruise reading “The Fate of the Earth” by Jonathan Schell, about the consequences of nuclear war.
I also very much enjoyed Stanley Kramer’s now-hard-to-find adaption of “On the Beach,” the one starring Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner and Anthony Perkins in black and white.
That movie was oddly sparse and bloodless, but I thought it was better than this book… which is even quieter and more restrained. The 1959 movie infused some tangible humanity that was missing from the writing.
Perhaps it’s the simple difference between reading about a ghost, and actually seeing one.
Don’t get me wrong: the writing here is good — and I do recommend this book. It seemed quaint, but in a good way.
I liked this book better than, say, the 2000 made-for-television film starring Armand Assante, Rachel Ward and Bryan Brown in color. Ghosts are more evocative in theory, or in black and white.
So, was the book better than the movie?
Yes and no.
Self-Discipline: Develop Good Habits. Achieve Your Goals. by Jennifer Alison
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This is an Audible self-help book. It has received decent reviews from many, but I found it simplistic and repetitive. Still, it offers sound advice — so much so that it inspired me to stick with the book until the finish.
Eternal Life by Dara Horn
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This is an interesting book, with an interesting premise that explores how the eventual end of everything may seem like a curse, but can also be viewed as a great mercy. There’s some really good writing here, but this is another case where all the craft and intelligence of the author didn’t make for a compelling story. I listened to this book, and I don’t regret that I did… but, honestly, it was sometimes a chore. The ending made no sense to me, given what happened in the next-to-last chapter. There was, in fact, no ending — which is rather existential, given the subject.
The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Oh my, this is a good story and worthy read. But, in places, something about it doesn’t ring true. There are too many situations where the main character just happens to be there, like Zelig. And, as it turns out after researching articles about this book, there are of course some parts of the story that are fictionalized for storytelling purposes. So approach this book as you do Wikipedia: 95% of it is true; you just don’t know which 5% isn’t. That said: this is highly recommended reading.
I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer by Michelle McNamara
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is a well-written and well-researched version of an unfinished book. For perspective… and closure, I recommend listening to two Audible selections: Billy Jensen’s “Chase Darkness With Me” and Paul Holes’ podcast-style “Evil Has a Name.”
Having read/listened to all this, I am overwhelmed by the utter senselessness of the crimes. While Michelle McNamara devoted her life to the earnest pursuit of justice and her reporting is often haunting, in the end I’m left hollow: no wiser about any of this, despite all the perspective.
There There by Tommy Orange
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This book ticks all boxes for something special: earnest, talented writer (check); focus on “storytelling” (check); awards galore (check). Politically correct to boot.
But, to me, the dozen interwoven stories fell flat. Even the operatic ending felt gratuitous, without evoking any emotional impact on my part. I was just left wondering at the senselessness of it all.
This is another one of those books that I think I should like. Until I read it. Still, I can see it becoming a new staple for high school literature classes.
The Gospel According to Luke by Steve Lukather
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
What does this book have in common with the real Gospel According to Luke?
That Luke is the patron saint of writers, and on a blank page a talented writer can do anything. Consider this Luke the patron saint of working musicians. With hard work and dedication musicians can do anything too, including meeting and performing with three Beatles, unintentionally antagonizing Eric Clapton, and making countless thousands of people happy.
I admire the work it takes to become a musician at Steve Lukather’s level. I give him 5 stars for that. I give his book 4 stars because he isn’t quite as accomplished a written-word story-teller, with his tales often devolving into a list of names and “love you, brother” callouts.
Ultimately, this is a story about the redemptive power of music. That may not be a religion, but it’s something I truly believe in too.
Rogue Island by Bruce DeSilva
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Let me, in the words of the main character, fire up a Cuban and tell you what I really think about this book: I was more frustrated than Juan Soto swinging at that nasty Jacob deGrom changeup on Opening Day 2019.
It’s probably a matter of taste, but the author’s writing style got in the way of my enjoyment of this story. Evidently, though, this is a worthy effort for the genre; it even won an Edgar Award. Is there not a Damon Runyon Award?
Perhaps there is, and perhaps Mr. DeSilva has won one of those too. I can’t give this any less than 4 stars simply on the basis of taste. There’s a lot to like here: the plot, what I imagine the soundtrack would be if this were made into a movie, the random appearances of Mr. Potato Head, and… charmingly… a cleverly inserted shout-out to the author’s real-life spouse and her poetry.
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book surprised me. It’s infuriating. There are long sections where I was so done with it — and yet, it got under my skin. It darts back and forth between places so familiar to me (Paterson, Rutgers) and one so foreign (Dominican Republic). It’s a long journey, like “The Heart of Darkness,” with a much different ending.
Stay Hungry by Sebastian Maniscalco
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Standup comedy is ridiculously hard to do well, so I’ve been inspired — and certainly amused — by past books I’ve read by Steve Martin, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Billy Crystal and Mindy Kaling. I admire the work ethic of successful comedians, and their story-telling is uniformly great.
This book started out as one of the most down-to-earth and inspirational, but I started to lose interest the more I read. When I got to the descriptions of Sebastian’s lavish First World wedding and an extravagantly expensive dinner at a pretentious restaurant (followed by his tips on tipping), I thought, “Well, good for him.” But I was done.
5 stars for the first half of the book; 3 stars for the second.
The President Is Missing by Bill Clinton
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This book is harmlessly cartoonish — somehow reminding me of the classic Phil-Hartman-era SNL skit, where President Reagan is bumbling and clueless in public, but in private he’s a tough-talking mastermind who knows about and controls everything happening in the world.
No one, in real life, is as smart, principled and effective as the president in this novel: a good-looking war hero and former athlete who literally saves the world on a Saturday. I can’t find any of the real President Clinton in this pre-packaged, if well-crafted, tale… unless I were a psychiatrist. Because this president is a widower — and at one point he even kicks the Russian ambassador out of the Oval Office with a warning to stay out of the U.S. electoral process.
The only thing the president doesn’t do in this book is drive his own car in a chase scene. However, if he did, I’m sure it would have been a very, very large car.
Small Fry by Lisa Brennan-Jobs
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I feel I am not worthy to review this book. It dissects every relationship from many angles… and, in the end, there are so many perspectives from the author about her birth father, birth mother and step mother that it’s all a blur.
In fact, no one is spared this fate: when neighbors generously pay for the author’s Harvard tuition when her father would not, they are characterized in the end (in someone else’s words, of course) as trying to “buy a daughter.”
No one survives this memoir unscathed, including the author and the reader… who evidently Steve Jobs would call a bozo and Laurene Powell Jobs would call a loser.
Perhaps, in the end, that’s the moral of this story: We’re all bozos here, and no one survives this life unscathed. So maybe we should simply default to showing each other a little more… I’ll dare say it… kindness.
Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Unlike a good journalist writing a good lede, I don’t even know where to begin to summarize the reasons this is the last, best and most important book I read in 2018.
So let me count three ways:
1. This is an epic drama, with life-saving consequences. It’s the compelling, readable story of journalists, editors and their sources who sought the truth. In doing so, they put an end to business practices that had a sociopathic disregard for the general public. While John Carreyrou plays a pivotal role in investigating and reporting this story, it’s inspiring to read about so many people who risked their reputations, careers and personal and family relationships to protect the public good.
2. This is why journalism matters. One could argue that the media created the Theranos dragon it eventually slayed. Enamored (like so many rich, old, white men) by Elizabeth Holmes and the myth she created, the media was just another cheerleader for too long a time. But, in the end, only a free press was strong enough to bring the complicated truth to light. For all the ranting about #FakeNews (created, some would argue, by Rupert Murdoch), it is heartening to read about improbable heroes (like Rupert Murdoch, who resisted pleas to spike the Wall Street Journal’s initial investigative story) who do the right things for the right reasons.
3. This is a cautionary tale for our times. It cautions us to be more skeptical of the “fake it until you make it” culture, about accepting things too readily at face value, and about the dangers of the cult of celebrity. And about greed.
In the end, Theranos put the health and well-being of thousands of ordinary people at risk — doing the exact opposite of what it started out to do Theranos didn’t save lives, and it didn’t do anything extraordinary. A good, ordinary journalist did.
The Odyssey by Homer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
“Tell me about a complicated man.”
That’s the way Emily Wilson, classics professor at the University of Pennsylvania, begins her translation of Homer’s “Odyssey.” It was published late in 2017, and I listened to the 2018 release in Audible format, read by the actress Claire Danes.
It proved a bittersweet experience, bringing back memories of my favorite teacher at the University of Notre Dame.
Wilson’s translation? Oh, it’s beautiful: sparse and direct.
The performance? Well, Claire Danes wouldn’t have been my first choice: her voice is disconcertingly fragile. Still, I enjoyed listening to it. It’s also appropriate to hear a female voice read (as the publisher boasts) “the first English translation of the ‘Odyssey’ by a woman.”
For all its uneven charms, however, this was not the most compelling performance of the “Odyssey” I’ve heard.
That honor belongs to bespectacled Robert Vacca, a classical Greek professor who died in June 2004 after a tragic battle with cancer, when he was just a bit older than I am today.
Imagine, if you will, a cold winter’s night in Indiana in the late 1970s. I’m safe and warm, in the otherwise deserted faculty offices in the basement of the Hesburgh Library on the Notre Dame campus. Sitting beside me is my classmate, Malcolm, a boy genius from England.
On the other side of the desk facing us, Professor Vacca reaches behind a row of books to reveal a hidden bottle of ouzo.
“This is what the Greeks drink,” he explains. “Modern Greeks. The ancients drank wine.”
He pours a small glass for me, mixed with water (the way the ancients used to mix their wine). The ouzo turns from clear to cloudy as the anise reacts with the cold. He instructs me to sip it slowly and offers young Malcolm only a glass of cold water.
The professor raises his own glass, clears his throat, then opens a text in ancient Greek and begins to chant verses from Homer in a way that would approximate the rhythm and tonality of how the poem might have been performed centuries ago.
His performance was joyous and enthralling. His booming chant echoed in the basement hallways, and the hypnotizing cadence of each line brought life and heat to the words of the dead language.
Malcolm likely understood every word of what he heard, but the only thing I understood was that this was special.
Feeling nostalgic, I located my worn paperback of Richmond Lattimore’s translation of the “Odyssey.” I probably haven’t opened it since I was an undergraduate… 40 years ago, twice as long as Odysseus was away from home.
Book One begins, “Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways…”
It was only the first line, but I already sensed that Wilson’s translation is even better.
I read some more, then researched the translator online. She has an active Twitter account, and pinned to the top of her profile is:
@EmilyRCWilson
One of the most famous and heart-breaking moments in the Odyssey is about Argos the dog, who has waited 20 years for his old master and is lying neglected, in the dung. He hears O’s voice again, pricks up his ears, and then dies.
Professor Vacca happened to love that story. So I know, without doubt, he would have loved Professor Wilson’s translation too.
“Well done!” he’d toast, raising a glass of ouzo.
Originally published at http://varettoni.blogspot.com. Here are links to all of Bob Varettoni’s Goodreads reviews and to books reviewed before 2019.
