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Not a dent into this book but I can't seem to focus on it and I have so many other books in my waitlist coming around... maybe I'll be in a more of a historical political gossip mood at another time, when the waitlist for this one isn't so long.

The author is writing through her baby dyke phase, so everything in this-- way more broad in subject matter than it should be and a bit navel-gazey-- is in that beginner stage of lesbian thought/info dumping... my response is mostly yes... I know... :). But also there are some errors ("compulsive heterosexuality" instead of "compulsory").

DNF. Strong framing, but the short stories lack thematic complexity and aesthetic sensibility.

The second forty pages were different than the first forty; among other aspects, I enjoyed them a lot more. So maybe this book will go through various stages with me.

Definitely a product of its time. Intentionally unpleasant, which makes everything feel like a slog. Seems to throw around a lot of narrative noise, though I like some of the things it may be getting at. Great turns of phrase, also. I'm hoping I'll settle into it after a while, since I can't bail on this one.

Completely fails to be interesting despite the setting and promise of the premise. Stagnant. No decisions made over the course of over 200 pages. Little character growth, little mystery, zero tension. Sometimes the dialogue is very wordy and roundabout. The worldbuilding is great. But for what plot?

I would say, now that two women are having sex, the prose is at its lowest point. Suddenly each sentence's imagery is so hackneyed, blatant, and self-serious that I just want to give up. I'm yelling "avocados??????" I'm yelling "Noooooo!" This is probably the fastest I've turned on a book's prose despite being thrilled with the turn of events. An incredible fumble to achieve this

Enjoying it less...

Up my alley. Wonderful prose, some of my favorite themes, and plenty of weird, aggressive sexual tension between women.

If not for book club I would have dnf'd. I am finding it uhhhhhhhhhh insufferable and am barely able to stay focused. Sorry queer people who are either caretakers of small children or healing their inner child (currently I am healing my inner edgy teenager)

Bruh the rancid feminine... I am having Fun

This book is like. What if a small town Gujarati woman is supposedly speaking Gujarati but a lot of the untranslated phrases are in Hindi (as in a Bollywood film set in Gujrat) but then on occasion she sounds like she's from California until the novel goes "oh shit" and includes like 5-6 conspicuous dialogue color notes (idioms like "stop eating my brains," etc) on one page. It's not horrible but it IS surreal

I would recommend this book to a lot of people as a self-help/rationality instigator, not as a science book, since I had hoped Robson were more skeptical and analytical about the studies he cites. However even as someone who thinks about this phenomenon all the time it was useful to think about how to apply the "expectation effect" to more aspects of my life.

GTN and HTN are puzzle boxes as much as they are novels and with all their focus on "play" it's not immediately clear what Muir is trying to say about us and the world we live in today. Nona the Ninth is less of a puzzle box and more of a true novel, and Muir starts raising and answering more thematic questions. It's a remarkable, emotional book. Finally the Point of the series, its wide-lens vision, becomes clear.

I'm enjoying this, like I knew I would. I like that it's strange and playfully crafted and makes me use my brain. Muir's perspective scratches a bunch of highly specific literary itches for me, in that it feels like a Homestuck AU and a theatre-style LARP and something I've never ever read before all at once.

Since I probably won't write a full review for this I should note the book gets a lot less "asinine" when it discusses the German occupation. But I'm still not the biggest fan of this novel-- it's really not my thing (⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠)

Asinine. But unfortunately I have to finish this for next month's book club. The letters (it's an epistolary novel) flow like molasses, making it hard for me to rush through. The book's approach toward its heroine is already unbearable.

I can't put this book down. After suffering an "aching" Australian drama the language and POV of Big Swiss is comfortably, blessedly, crudely American. It's written deftly, very quick, and the subject matter is like watching a trainwreck. Some scenes are chaotic-- 80 pages in and I already felt like I had a whole book crammed into me, pages flying around the room, etc.

Bored. Boring. What people think Jane Austen is if they have no sense of wit or charm. Would not bother to finish this if it weren't a book club pick. Boy I hope something happens soon

I'm exhausted by this book. At this point it feels like trauma porn, and will continue to be that unless Butler has more things to say. The first half does explore many themes, and the protagonist's perspective examines how trauma impacts agency and worldview and empathy, but I'm at a point where the atrocities heaped onto the reader don't feel connected to greater themes any longer. Senseless to be senseless.

That WW1 was THE phenomenon that codified the horror genre might be a dubious claim, but eh- Poole's writing has an obsessive, poetic quality that emphasizes feelings and themes over the minutae that might complicate his vibe (Poe? 1918 flu? WHEN was Partition again? etc). His compelling prose captures the miasma of anxiety and grief that descended upon postwar Europe and its profound impact on culture and narrative.

Unfocused. Scientific info so far is minimal and not connected to concrete ecological impact. Despite stressing the importance of looking @ plants as seperate entities that are unlike animals, forces metaphors and "behaviors" onto plant actions. Weird chapter comparing plants' non-hierarchal, brainless form/function to democracy and the "greatness" of ancient Greece, which is actual flagrant nonsense!!!!!

This is a book about information technology that's over a DECADE old. As such, it reads poorly, and its argument has lost any semblance of focus. Worst literature choice, cosi professor.

Reading this book for class. Jesus Christ, it's terrible. How do you science?

Joe McGinniss is a fascinating wreck of a journalist.

Reading this for class. Dude's a messy writer and goes on about some amorphous "moralism" in American culture but does not identify its boundaries. Claims identity politics is "sexless", then provides no proof. What the fuck.

Hello my name is Michael Pollan and I think vegetarians live a lie TROLOLOLOLO. PS, Mushrooms