The Simp is the story of Raj, an actor who lands a job as an assistant to Jim and Anna H—, a high-powered Hollywood director and his young wife. The problem is that Raj’s entire persona is based on lies. He rarely shows his true self and forces the reader to grapple with questions related to representation, identity politics, and cancel culture. Raj is trying to make a name for himself in an industry that doesn’t have space for him. Anna is trying to write her screenplay and establish her talent. Jim is trying to hold on to his influence and refers to Raj as a simp, someone “who is too eager to please.” The real question is why is Raj so eager to please, and what does that say about power? Each character in this novel could be a study on identity and power as they all navigate tensions related to race, gender, sexuality, and social class.
I enjoyed Sethi’s clever, satirical style, and I highly recommend The Simp.
Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Shuster for the ARC.
From the moment ChatGPT was released, I immediately tried to understand Large Language Models and how they would impact me as an educator. I was probably the first person in my school district to deliver professional development on AI, and I thought it was most important to focus on how it works and its possible implications for the classroom, including research, the credibility of online information, and student cheating/plagiarism. My stance has been, “This is fascinating technology, but maybe we should proceed with caution.”
Trying to sort through the AI hype has been frustrating at times, so I’ve been reading as much as I can to make sure I have the information I need to make informed choices as an educator and consumer. The Reverse Centaur’s Guide to Life After AI: How to Think About Artificial Intelligence–Before It’s Too Late by Cory Doctorow is an extremely valuable addition to that reading list. What stands out most is how Doctorow explains complex concepts, such as the economics of the current AI bubble and the role copyright plays in LLM training and outputs, in a straightforward, easily comprehensible manner. He also dispels the “AI inevitableism” that has always frustrated me. One of the major themes running through this book is that AI tools are products made by companies that may or may not endure, especially if/when the AI bubble bursts, and that we have the power to influence the direction AI takes. Doctorow offers numerous examples of situations in which AI failed to live up to the hype, while acknowledging areas where AI is actually helpful and not necessarily damaging to the environment. The key, according to Doctorow, is ensuring that we are Centaurs, people who are assisted by AI, and that we retain our autonomy over when and how we use it as opposed to the “Reverse Centaur” who is an assistant to the machine. While I don’t agree with everything in this book (it will take a lot to convince me that AI therapy could ever be a good thing), I think Doctorow’s insight and explanations are extremely valuable, and I recommend this to anyone who wants to learn more about the issues surrounding AI.
Thank you to Libro.fm for an advance listening copy of the audiobook and to NetGalley for an ARC of the ebook. I have to say that I preferred the audiobook because Doctorow narrated it himself. His reading conveyed the tone in a way that did not come across in the printed text.
John of John by Douglas Stuart follows John-Calum (Cal) as he returns home after graduating from art school and struggles to fit back into his father’s conservative religious expectations. As the novel unfolds, the point of view shifts and readers gain insight into a variety of other characters’ perspectives as they, like Cal, determine which parts of their stories and identities to share. I don’t want to write too much about specific characters or plot details because I knew very little about this book when I started, and I think that’s one reason I was so engaged. The structure of the novel is extremely well crafted and layered, and the writing is gorgeous. If possible, avoid spoilers!
It has been a long time since a work of fiction has stuck with me like John of John. I cannot recommend this enough!
Thank you to NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the ARC.
The Violence: My Family’s Colombian War by Adriana E. Ramírez is an account of Colombia’s history beginning with the assassination of Jorge Eliécer Gaitán in 1948, which started La Violencia, a period of brutal conflict and oppression of rural and working-class people. At the center of the book is Ramírez’s grandmother, Esther, a powerful woman who navigated political violence, spiritual, emotional violence as she tried to keep her integrity and her family’s land and assets in the face of increasing political turmoil and guerilla warfare.
Woven through Esther’s story are moments that stress the importance of understanding the past: “A Colombian aphorism says that to understand tomorrow, you need to make sense of yesterday. Like a long line of dominoes, one moment in time topples another, which topples another, until soon nothing stands.” As Ramírez writes to make sense of her family’s yesterdays and grapples with the impact of her grandparents’ choices, readers will see parallels to the issues we are all facing today, both personal and political, as well as the burden placed on those who recognize history’s patterns: “And we students of history, we men of God and revolution, saw it all coming but we were called radicals and expelled from our pulpits.”
The Violence: My Family’s Colombian War operates on two levels. One is the story of Colombia and the other is a story of a family and community. Both are torn apart by various forms of violence and are still grappling with how to heal and how (or even whether) to forgive. At the center is Ramírez’s grandmother, Esther, who finds ways to maintain her strength and dignity while surrounded by political conflict and personal betrayal.
I found this book engaging and thought provoking. I saw so many parallels between both Esther’s personal conflicts and Colombia’s political conflicts with what we see in the world today. I highly recommend this book!
Paradiso 17 by Hannah Lillith Assadi traces the journey of Sufien after his family is displaced from Palestine. The novel, based on the life of the author’s father, asks readers to consider the idea of home as Sufien grapples with life away from his home in Palestine and journeys through Kuwait, Italy, and finally the United States. Even though he was young in 1948 when his family was forced out during the Nakba, he still feels a deep connection to his homeland and struggles to feel a sense of belonging elsewhere.
We know from the beginning that Sufien is dying, and Assadi deftly weaves together his reflections on his life’s journey with Palestinian history, as Sufien tries to make peace with his choices and attempts to find solace in his relationships. As I think about Paradiso 17, I keep coming back to the idea of searching and that so many people fail to find satisfaction because they want more than they have or want to recapture moments that have passed. At one point, Sufien asks, “Why is it we always realize how much we will miss a place on the eve of leaving it?” And he still leaves. He still searches. Ultimately, he must reconcile his hopes with his reality, deciding if the choices he made were worth the costs..
This is a book that will stay with me. It is beautifully written and tells an important story. I can’t recommend it enough.
Black. Single. Mother. by Jamilah Lemieux begins as a memoir of Black single motherhood then expands into a meticulously researched disruption of racist and sexist stereotypes. Her story and the stories of the other Black single mothers she includes show that single motherhood is not to be looked down upon and that when socio-economic factors are controlled, children of single mothers are no less likely to thrive than children who grow up in households with both parents. She also challenges the notion that Black fathers are prone to absenteeism by citing research that shows that “Black fathers . . . are reported to be more active in the care of their children than dads of other races.” Because Lemieux weaves her research into her story, I found it to be more powerful than other texts I’ve read that address similar issues. It’s much easier to disrupt biases and reframe understandings when confronted with personal stories that humanize data.
In Black. Single. Mother., Lemieux provides a method for unlearning deeply ingrained societal biases. This is essential reading for anyone committed to understanding the intersection of race, gender, and family in America.
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for the ARC.
In her latest collection, How About Now, Kate Baer confronts the tension she faces as she grapples with middle age. While the poems in this collection are deeply personal and often showcase raw vulnerability, they mirror what many women face during this stage of life (including me). Baer captures the reality of navigating relationships with family, friends, and oneself highlighting the need to step back and see the bigger picture when times are tense, while basking in the comfort of and taking joy in those relationships in times of need or peace. She also stresses the importance of appreciating each moment, and in “Meanwhile” calls on us (in a snarky way) to put down our phones. (I felt attacked.)
Ultimately, How About Now reads like a reflection (or maybe a memoir in poems) on the process of living. We are a product of our pasts, but that does not need to define us. We can let go of the distractions, focus on loving ourselves, our environment, and the people around us. The collection begins by stating, “The problem is the new life costs you the old one” and the rest of the collection shows that change, growth, and love are worth it. As Baer states in the acknowledgements, “Finally, to anyone holding this collection in your hands, wondering if there’s enough time for you: I wrote this with you in mind. You’re still here. It’s not too late. How about now?”
This is the energy I’m bringing with me into the new year.
One of my first thoughts when the extremely brutal Debt Police make an appearance in The Payback was, “I hope no one in power reads this and gets ideas,” because like a lot of books with dystopian elements, The Payback should not be an instruction manual. Well, unless you’re rooting for the protagonist, Jada, and her friends, Audrey and Lanae, as they come up with a scheme to erase their student debt and take down the system as a whole. The novel shows how deep the problem of debt, especially student loan debt, runs and how difficult it can be to get out from under it. The Debt Police are a violent representation of how much debt can brutalize you and keep you down, adding a physical layer of demoralization, fear, and despair to Cauley’s critique of the current system, ultimately asking the question of whether we need to be paying so much for education (among other things) at all.
Cauley’s characters are well developed, entertaining, and smart, and the novel is a necessary critique of many elements of society. I highly recommend it!
I feel like I should read this a few more times before writing a review, because even though this is a fast and engaging read, there’s immense depth to this novel that showcases Okorafor’s masterful skill as a writer. The title evokes Roland Barthes’ essay in which he argues that literary critics should avoid using the biography of the author to aid in finding meaning in a text. Instead, the reader’s own analysis should be centered. Okorafor brilliantly plays with this idea through Zelu’s story as she watches her novel morph into something she never intended as it is adapted for the screen. And then there’s the tendency to look to Okorafor’s life as an inspiration for the novel. What do we make of that?
The Death of the Author is a masterful work on every level, and I cannot recommend it enough.
In The Dream Hotel, Laila Lalami envisions a dystopian future where, after a devastating mass shooting, dreams are monitored and Americans are given a risk score in order to prevent future violence. The main character, Sara, is detained due to postpartum dreams that indicate to the Risk Assessment Agency that her husband may be in danger. What is originally to be a twenty-one day period of observation turns into a lengthy ordeal that raises many questions relevant to what we’re seeing today with technological advances and authoritarian legislation.
The Dream Hotel seems like a cautionary tale warning us of what could happen if we open ourselves up to more surveillance. If we think we’re among the “good people” who would never pose any risks or be targeted. If we place too much trust in technology (especially AI) to solve our problems.
This is a disturbing but necessary read because Sara’s response to her detainment, her observations of the world around her, and her work toward freedom offers hope that there is always a way out.
