February 2022 Recap
First thing to note: thanks to some very kind feedback, I’ve added a page on this blog for my top recommendations! You can check it out here, and please continue to let me know if there’s anything I could do to make this blog better.
On to this month! I read six books this time, half audiobooks and two-thirds nonfiction – not my usual ratio! I’m trying to develop a new reading strategy now that I actually have things to do outside of the house for the first time in two years, so we’ll see how things progress.
Reading Recap
Pelosi by Molly Ball
I’m not always the biggest fan of many of Nancy Pelosi’s politics/brand of politics, but you cannot deny that the woman is f*cking formidable. I listened to an interview with the biographer on a podcast, and, given that Pelosi also my representative in Congress, I was interested enough to pick the book up (or download the audiobook from Libby).
My only criticism with the book is that I often felt annoyed with how fawning Ball could be over Pelosi – though she claimed she herself wasn’t a particular fan of her when she started out. It felt like she was glossing over some of Pelosi’s more controversial aspects, was overly effusive, and took every opportunity to defend or make her into a hero instead of a person.
That being said, I did really enjoy this biography. Ball’s writing is smart yet conversational; she’s well-researched, weaving in many fascinating details throughout. I learned a lot about Pelosi’s history – about her particular political stances (I especially didn’t know much about her history as an advocate regarding the AIDS epidemic/international human rights), as well as more broadly about how she paved the way for countless women in politics, despite the many attacks she faced along the way.
(Also, thank god she finally seems to be letting the stupid stock trade issue go.)
Rating: 4.3/5
The Barbizon: The Hotel that Set Women Free by Paulina Bren
I’m not really sure what led me to pick up (or, again, download) this book, but I’m so glad that I did. The Barbizon reads like a biography – only instead of being about a person, it’s about a women-only hotel in New York City,
The book spans about seven decades of the hotel’s history, before it was converted to condos in the early ‘00s. But it’s more than that – it’s about the women who lived there, from Sylvia Plath to Joan Didion, Ford Models to students at the Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School. And it’s even more than that – it’s about the ever-changing paradigm women faced in the twentieth century, progressions and backlashes and so many contradictions.
The Barbizon Hotel only set certain women free, however – white women, who were at least in the middle-class. When demand was particularly high, you also had to be pretty and young to secure a room. Bren was certainly aware of this, but my main criticism of the book is that she still glossed over the structural biases and barriers the hotel upheld, keeping certain women out even as others progressed throughout the 1900s.
Rating: 4.5/5
Anatomy: A Love Story by Dana Schwartz
I was really, really hyped for this book. Its author, Dana Schwartz, hosts one of my favorite podcasts (Noble Blood) and often guest co-hosts another (Hysteria) – she’s also great on Twitter, and I strangely see her as a cool-older-sister-type (even though I already have a very cool older sister). I’ve been eagerly awaiting this book for months, and was even more stoked to see it immediately fly to the top of the NYT YA Bestsellers list, and make Reese Witherspoon’s Book Club.
With all the excitement, it was maybe inevitable for me to be at least somewhat let down by the book… and, unfortunately, I was.
I’ll start with the highlights, though: the setting and overall mood of the book are just excellent. It takes place in nineteenth-century Scotland, with delightfully gloomy gothic vibes, echoes of Frankenstein without going full-scale horror, as well as some Jane Austen woven in. I also thought the main character was lovely – young, bright, wildly ambitious yet also hopelessly naive. She reminded me a bit of Stevie from Maureen Johnson’s Truly Devious.
But. Quite a lot of the book just… didn’t work. The main issue was the plotting – it took maybe three-quarters of the book to really pick up, and there were both many plot holes and storylines that just didn’t pay off. The “big twist” at the end seemed totally obvious to me from the very beginning, the ongoing mysterious disappearances were just not interesting, the romance was bland and not really believable. I could go on, and may end up writing a blog post about it, because I have a lot of specific feelings. It just felt like a book that had been given its first round of feedback, but never got the edits to actually incorporate them in.
Rating: 3.1
We Run the Tides by Vida Videla
Another book I hope to write a full review of – but this time because I loved it a lot.
What really shone through, for me, was how perfectly Videla captured the feeling of being thirteen. The main character, Eulabee, is smart but sheltered, observant, and absolutely devoted to her friends. She’s awkward, she tries too hard and she cares too much. Videla also beautifully captures the spirit of San Francisco, the city really present on every page (“almost like it’s a character,” I know – but at least it isn’t New York).
The book really revolves around character and setting, so the plot almost doesn’t matter – sort of strange when it’s about disappearances and even murder. Still, I was relatively engaged with the story until the last third or so, when I found myself feeling impatient as it lost some of its momentum. It redeemed itself a bit with the epilogue, which I found unexpected and interesting. Overall, I was really enamored with this book and have continued to think about it/its characters ever since I finished.
Rating: 4.5/5
The End of the Golden Gate: Writers on Loving and (Sometimes) Leaving San Francisco by Gary Kamiya
It’s a bit hard to write about this book as a whole, because the different essays, all by different authors, varied so dramatically. I do think it would be best read more slowly than I did, since reading straight through the essays quickly became pretty tedious and annoying, as the same complaints I hear constantly about this city were repeated ad nauseam.
I know I’m biased because I always have and still do love San Francisco, love living here. Every day I remind myself what a dream it is, how thrilled Middle-School-Allie would be with where I am. Still, I found some of the essays just selfish, overly extended grumbles. Everything sucks now, back in my day the city was actually cool, blah blah. Cities change. That does come with serious problems, but many of the essays didn’t address those, just the writer’s own personal grievances.
Still, other essays were much more thoughtful and poignant, offering valuable, unique perspectives and nuanced critiques. Some wrote about San Francisco’s many contradictions, its racial inequity and class divides – issues like homelessness and gentrification. Others just wrote love letters to San Francisco, beautifully capturing their own experience at a specific time instead of complaining about a then-versus-now, which I also found lovely. If you’re to pick up the book, essays by Gary Kamiya, John Law, Daniel Handler, Alia Volz, and Kimberly Reyes are some that stood out to me – I also wouldn’t be afraid to just skip a chapter if you find yourself rolling your eyes too much.
Rating: 3.8/5
Wow, No Thank You.: Essays by Samantha Irby
Another difficult-to-review collection of essays – though slightly better since all are written by Irby. Like any collection, some chapters are better than others, but Irby keeps the bar high.
This book is quick to get through – it’s smart, honest, self-deprecating, and reliably funny. I laughed out loud more than once while listening, earning strange looks on the bus (mostly from my partner sitting next to me) or when I erupted into giggles while running. Irby writes about her experience being queer and Black, helping raise stepchildren in a small, white, conservative Midwestern town – an odd and enticing enough premise on its own. She also writes about her experience dabbling in Hollywood, her wild youth, her constant bowel problems, her mental health challenges. Irby’s writing is bold and casual, matter-of-fact without being too in your face.
Some essays had less to say than others, and sometimes Irby tried out stylistic techniques (such as repeating herself over and over for pages) that didn’t really translate well to audiobook, but I thought that was fine. It’s a fun book, and I wasn’t sorry to listen to any of it.
Rating: 4.1/5
What Else?
Once again, still apropos of absolutely nothing, here are a few other things I enjoyed (or didn’t) this month:
Dining
For our fancy meal this month (and for Valentine’s Day), my partner and I went to Mourad, a Michelin-starred Moroccan restaurant I’ve been dreaming of trying since I moved to San Francisco three years ago.
It was worth the wait. The restaurant itself was simple and elegant; we were lucky to sit upstairs with a direct view down into the kitchen. My partner was able to recognize the executive chef, a minor local/culinary celebrity, and we spent most of the time watching him and the other cooks move around – their movements almost balletic, dinner and a show.
The food itself was also, of course, exceptional. We ordered way too much in our excitement, but the standouts were octopus that was melt-in-your-mouth tender, and a giant heap of short rib served with cabbage, apple, and radish.
Watching
I haven’t really been watching tv or movies that particularly excites me lately – way behind the trend, my partner and I finally finished Ted Lasso, which I found light and enjoyable, but that’s pretty much it.
We did, however, go to watch the San Francisco Ballet, which was a real treat. We’d gone for The Nutcracker in December, which is fun (I danced in it for something like ten years growing up) but not really the most impressive show. This time, we saw “Trio” by Helgi Tomasson, “Mrs. Robinson” by Cathy Marston, and “Symphony in C” by George Balanchine. My partner’s favorite was “Mrs. Robinson,” a re-telling of The Graduate from the seductress’s perspective – it was more modern, fun to follow a familiar story. My favorite was Balanchine’s piece, basically the opposite – very traditional, technically difficult, with white tutus and a large corps pirouetting in perfect unison. I told my friend who I danced with all about it, since that was very much the style of our teacher, and she laughingly agreed “No one cares about Balanchine except us.”
Baking
This month, I made an absolutely amazing salmon-and-dill-stuffed-focaccia with garlic and flakey sea salt, once again from Nadiya Hussein’s delightful book. It wasn’t quite as poofy as your typical focaccia, but I think that’s from the filling. It was so delicious I didn’t mind anyway – it was enough to be its own meal, but also held up for several days as a snack. My partner and I also smeared some cream cheese with chives from the farmers market over it, emulating a lox bagel, which was amazing. I might even add capers if I make it again.
A friend also requested chocolate chip cookies for his birthday – wanting to try something new, I found this tahini and honey chocolate chunk recipe from Half Baked Harvest, which was very good – still recognizable as a mostly-traditional chewy chocolate chip cookie, with just enough of a twist from the tahini, honey, and cinnamon.
(Other) Reading
Speaking of cookies, I’ve really been loving Hrishikesh Hirway’s newsletter “Accept Cookies,” where he writes about music and snacks and art. Hrisihi seems like the type of person you could befriend immediately, and has some wonderful podcasts - “Home Cooking” with another person I want to befriend, Samin Nosrat (it’s no longer being regularly updated, but you can always go back and revisit their lovely dynamic) and “Song Exploder.”
(Other) Writing
I’ve started taking a flash fiction writing class once a week, which I’ve really been loving. I used to write fiction as a teenager, but have largely stopped ever since high school – going back to it has been really wonderful. It motivates me to write, just a couple of pages a week, and to gives me a little community of fellow writers with which I can share feedback. I thought about sharing something I wrote here, which felt terrifying, so probably a good reason to do it. Here’s a 100-word story that I wrote in class on our first day":
“The Morning After”
You haven’t felt this way in years. Woken by light pouring through a window, in a bed that isn’t yours. The slow remembering, lurch in the stomach, cautious turn to the other pillow.
He’s still there. You don’t know if you should feel disappointment or relief. Fuzzy shadow of a beard, crust in the corners of his eyes and lips. His fingers, tangled in your hair.
The baby starts crying in the other room, waking your husband next to you. You look away so he doesn’t catch you staring.
“Do you want to get her?” he groans. “Or should I?”
(Yes, I know this is terribly hypocritical given that I typically, loudly hate reading second-person perspectives. Oops.)
