His story about his experiences with Fitzgerald in Paris is the largest of these stories, and it really a biography in its own right. His ability to describe Fitzgerald’s looks and quirks shows his own writing genius. This is Hemingway at his personal best: the man who supported another genius even though that genius had severe mental handicaps.
Can't understand the narrator
The unsuccessful injection of Victorian royal society into Russian Society
I used to think perfection was something hard to attain. But we have proven, in our own San Fernando Valley that we know how to live a perfectly idiotic, perfectly empty life – and then we know how to brag about it. As this book proves.
America became a child-centered society – where the children were the center of the family – and assumed the rest of the world (including their parents) existed only to please them.
I watched this in amazement – and could have sworn I heard the parents telling their children “Do not be anything!” Whether they said this or not – this is what their children became – nothing. To the complete satisfaction of their parents.
This book is unusual in two ways – the victim had a mild case which make it easier for her to recover – and the author did a good job of involving the reader in the story – sometimes, too much so, it seemed to me (someone not too skilled emotionally). It took me a while to get through it.
After listening to a number of these case histories – I have noticed that the survivors (only about 1 out of 5) were good at getting help. In this case, she was saved by her sister – who worked very hard at getting help for her. Most refuse help of any kind.
And she was lucky in finding a med that worked. Many never find a combination that works very well – and they end up being arrested and institutionalized, over and over.
As soon as I started listening to this, my first impulse was to trash it as trash. And I have not changed my opinion – but only put it into context – the natural work of a trashy culture. It is not literature – but people are no longer interested in that. They want trash – and Domenica Ruta knows how to dish that out.
She has a big advantage over me – she can remember her dysfunctional childhood – in amazing detail. I cannot remember much of anything before I was ten. It was too terrible for me to remember – and no one who was there during that terrible time wanted to remember it either.
Her family relished their terrible lives and wanted to remember all of it. Not knowing that one of their own would cash in on it with this book.
The book starts out with a bang: with an explanation of how the atomic bomb and the computer were motivated by the same forces, with the same potential for destruction.
But it quickly gets bogged down details, instead of keeping the overall story firmly in mind. The author uncovered tons of details, and cannot resist showing them off.
I didn't even make it though the first part.
I can’t believe the moral indignation of the other reviewers. Once again, I am reminded that our world regressed in the last century, not progressed.
I have to admit that after hearing the first chapter, when she tells how the story of her adolescent affair with JFK forty years earlier hit the news, I felt ashamed to be interested in it. But she quickly set me at ease, and make me part of the story – as any good writer can do – and she is a excellent writer. I assumed at first it was ghost-written, but became convinced she wrote it herself – at least most of it.
This is history, and should be regarded as such – history written by an insider with a special background. That is probably also why I could identify with her, because I had a similar, sexually repressed childhood. Something nearly impossible to get over.
Back in the early Sixties, when this history was happening, my life was also centered on New York City. Beth and I got married when we were living living in Manhattan. We later moved to California, but our New York years stand out as some of the best in our hectic, short life together.
In the Sixties America had its last chance to redeem itself – and failed. Mimi’s history is a vital part of that story.
This book sounds like it was written by a gossip columnist. I realize it was written by a fine historian, but in dealing with Andrew Jackson, he didn't have much other material to work with.
When Jackson became President, the era of the Founding Fathers was over, and our modern political system was born. If this had been its purpose, the book could have been much shorter - and for me, more interesting.
Jackson, to use his words, was a man of the people - of the political mass, which he identified with completely. The American frontiersmen were just that - crude and greedy - as they made clear by their treatment of the Indians.
This could probably be made into a movie, with the most salacious parts emphasized. The jealousies of the women would provide some interesting character studies, much like a soap opera - which it resembles.
Only it they had plenty of time on their hands.
The young man kept making the same mistakes, over and over.
Only it it were abridged.
This was originally published as three volumes. The first one would have been adequate.
If blood, gore, and witches are your taste, you will get plenty of these. I enjoyed all the action, blood and all.
It must have been written with a movie in mind, and I am sure the scenery was magnificent - and the heavy-handed plot (lots of muscle, but little brain) would be no difficulty there.
After MacBeth became King, the story started falling apart, and I stopped listening to it.
Where he killed the traitor, realized he had probably made a mistake, but put it out of his mind.
Narration is excellent, sounds like a Scot
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