I like to read about extraordinary things that have really happened, and this is what Steve Martin's bio reveals--the development of his unique comedic style that became a hallmark of the last quarter of the 20th century. Quite enjoyable.
Sadly, the unlikeable characters and their disturbing and unending stories make for a tough go.
I was curious about what new material Amy Tan could mine. I persisted in reading simply to see if she could turn around this unlikeable set of characters and conditions into an interesting and plausible story. Alas, it was not to be.
This was a very disappointing production in comparison to the great work she has done previously.
Having been parented by two of the greatest generation, I enjoyed learning more about what they went through. All too often, they refuse to talk about what happened to them during their amazingly challenging lifetimes, WWI, the great depression, WW2. They have suppressed their experiences or allowed their reflections to fade from their memories. There is still much for us to learn from our parents. I thank Brokaw for helping to reveal some of their stories to us.
It sometimes seems that Mr. Card has a somewhat mechanical method to his writing: slice up a dictionary, toss the pieces in the air, pull out a few random entries and see what kind of unlikely drama he can cobble from them. Yes, Shakespeare is forced into the black box this time along with "I just been to L.A.". All this in Card's consistently strident, argumentative tone, signature since Ender's Game (I haven't read many of his earliest works). Magic Street is not among his best efforts. I have truly enjoyed a number of his other works, but I hope not to see any more of this derivative kind of stuff.
Peter Schikele has a consistent sense of humor-broad, slapstick, wah-wah-wah. Should've known better.
Yes, the world will soon have no more to give to mankind. Yes, it's wonderful that the author was able to live a year of sustainability. Thanks for alerting the rest of us to options to reduce our ever-destructive impact on the world. I am so glad that your turkeys now know how to mate. I am so sad that petroleum based transportation systems hold us all in their ghastly grip. Oh, for another era . . .
What a lame load of signature male fantasy! More or less like Marquez, Rushdie goes far to demonstrate how deeply the fantasy of a silent, obedient, sexually available automaton is the sine qua non of his imagination. This basic datum is moved from one exotic locale through time and space, but never progresses to anything worth reading. Pathological.
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