Talk about a book being more than the sum of its parts. Every sentence is like a freaking scalpel. Sad to say but it's so refreshing to read a book that refuses to spell things out for the reader and makes you form all the connections yourself -- something about that is really powerful. The book operates on all these different levels -- temporal, POV, emotional, moral -- and was so rewarding.

Holy shit... this was the book I've been avoiding for the past 8-1/2 years. But I'm glad I read it, and I think it was so well done. Very well-controlled plotting, and the end just knocked me sideways -- I don't really want to say more because it would be a big old spoiler. Definitely unsettling, but in the best way, and very worth reading.

More mopey middle-aged ex-punk rockers... I guess they're all coming out of the woodwork now as good novel subjects. And I have to say it's alluring, if only to stack up my own mopiness (or lack thereof) against theirs. This one was linked shorts, very philosophical about the passing of time underneath all the rock'n'roll trappings. I liked it, and I'm still mulling it over.

I'm no Anglophile, and I'm not 100% sure where I stand on reading about other people's gardens, but I loved this one. Straightforward, arch, and surprisingly sweet, an awesome garden book even for the non-winter months (which is when I think it's more traditional to read them, but so what). And it's a beautiful reprint, with an almost letterpress looks and absolutely sumptuous paper stock.

Gee, this made me feel good about all the work I've done with my dog. The farm and large animal chapters weren't as compelling as the ones about dogs and cats, for obvious reasons, but still pretty interesting. And I love how she gets a pass on having to abide by that dispassionate academic-speak, and says things like "little tiny baby orphan elephants." I heart Temple Grandin.

Quirky, nervy little book with wonderful characterizations. Made me think of Chekhov a bit, the way your sympathy for them sneaks up on you. Cassandra is a lovely character, and you end up sympathizing with Judith for having had to grow up in the shadow of her sister's wacky brilliance.

There's an Aristophanes connection, but it's about more than just the rending of the one from the one true love. Lots about family - how it gets pulled apart, the traps parents set for their children, young people trying to pull away and find their own identities in the face of such an overbearing family unit. I got a strong feeling of someone in middle age musing about being young, that period of time before your sense of your own self has settled in.

Very smart and nonstop about that. I never quite warmed to it but it's not a warm novel, really. But funny, sharp, snarky, and almost oppressively true - I laughed a lot, even if the nonstop variety show of black humor got exhausting after a point. Still, really well done.

It had the most permeable membrane of any book I've read in a while, by which I mean that the boundaries between my life and the novel kept blurring. Maybe because it was a particularly sleep-deprived weird week, and there are certainly the aforementioned dreaded dream sequences (which I liked) bordering on magic realism (which I thought worked), but I keep remembering bits and pieces of the narrative the way you'd remember something you dreamed a few nights ago. And I kept nodding out while reading the book -- on the train, in bed -- which made it all the more hallucinatory. Anyway, I'm probably not making a very good case for the book and it's definitely not for everyone, but I liked it.

Still mulling it over. Such a strange little book, but in a good way. Finishing was like waking up from a dream - I wanted to start over again right away and reread it to see what exactly happened when. It's the first book I've read on the Kindle that I really wish I had in print form, and I'll pick it up if I see it used.

In the end it was a bit too narcissistic and all the self-realization schtick got tiresome. But she definitely made her point, and I'm sure at the time it was all very appropriate.

What's interesting to me now is what I took away then. Most of the literary references and all the shrink jokes went over my head. But the sex/feminist stuff hit home as much as it can when you're 13. Not that I related so much, but it was like having a salty-mouthed drama queen older sister laying all this stuff out for me. And a lot of the sociology was instructive. So much was outside my sheltered scope—about being raised a certain kind of assimilated Jew and, weirdly, a lot about attitudes coming out of WWII. It was written only 30 years after, and there was so much emotion right there on the surface. I think that was one of the first things I ever read that dealt with WWII and the Holocaust and the fallout in an honest, realistic way.

I'm surprised at how much I remember from my first reading of this at age 13. Either I was very impressionable or I gave it a VERY close reading. Probably both.

Great job on this by Rebecca Skloot. This is one of those times when the author's touch is all over a nonfiction book and it's a GOOD thing. She combines the story itself, her detective work, her interactions with the participants, and the hard(ish) science and ethics behind the issues. Even though class is a big player -- what gives the facts both human interest and tension -- she gives the reader enough credit to figure it out and never hits you over the head with it, which is much appreciated.

Very smart, even-tempered but heartfelt nonfiction, recommended to pretty much anyone.

Still digesting this one. Very impressionistic, and I'm not sure if it added up to what she intended or not. I think it might take a reread, or a re-skim, on my end.

This was really lovely. It's story of Korean and Korean-American families -- how they come together and pull apart -- and art and loss, all done with a true and light touch and no excess sentimentality. Chung has a great ear for language and an eye for nuance, and pulled me in steadily and surely -- by the end of the novel I was a bit surprised at how much I cared about every single character. There's a lot of heart in this book, and nothing overplayed.

There's much to like in this book, even though the narratives weren't blended quite skillfully enough to make it a seamless read. But there's a lot of good stuff here, a number of interesting prisms Ravé views the Jewish diaspora through -- language, religious myth, survivor guilt and anger, pride of place -- and it's all done with grace and insight. Even if it didn't hang together perfectly, and I suspect this is two novellas in one novel, I enjoyed the whole process quite a bit and will definitely keep my eye out for her next.

A funny, edgy book. The narrator, Alice Ziplinsky, is so perfectly off-kilter - she's both sympathetic and disconcerting, often at the same time - that she lends a slightly funhouse feeling to the story's telling. This dynastic epic of a candy-making family encompasses immigration, assimilation, success, failure, racism, inclusion, and everything you ever wanted to know about the candy business, all skillfully interwoven. And Alice's weird, funny, almost-perfectly-reasonable voice is the perfect medium. You pay attention, because Alice is the kind of narrator you want to keep an eye on, and in the process the story unwinds vividly. This is smart, out of the ordinary and fun - recommended whether you have a sweet tooth or not.

Some fascinating stuff on cat body language at the beginning, and what's probably good advice on introducing new cats to the household. Hopefully that won't be anything I need to think about for a while. Mostly the book made me thankful for all the cat problems we don't have -- litterbox issues, food issues, spraying, or cats who actively hate each other. We have two who are constantly at odds, but I see from reading this that it could be a lot worse, and I might as well just leave them to their skirmishes.

Beautiful little melancholy jewel of a book, with delicate, moody illustrations and a happy ending. I don't read a lot of YA/kids' books these days, so it was a nice change of pace. I forget how much I like pictures in a book, and that read-aloud quality -- I read some of it to the dog in bed last night, and she was appropriately transfixed.