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End of the March book reviews
Apr. 3rd, 2016 10:10 pm#26: Priceless: How I Went Undercover to Rescue the World's Stolen Treasures by Robert K. Wittman and John Shiffman. 3.5. This memoir by the FBI's only full time undercover art crime specialist (retired) has a lot of fun little details but ultimately didn't leave that big an impression on me. It's unfortunate that it actually does play out a lot like a lot of movies you've seen--despite the fact that this is true and those are not, it robs the narrative of some of its color. The bitterness that the FBI has not really replaced him (which seems legitimate to be bitter about) does also end the book on a sour note. But you'll learn a lot about art crime and fighting it, if not in any particularly great detail.
#27: Sex in History by Reay Tannahill. 3.5. The later parts of this ambitious work do a nice job of covering both sex and sexism across cultures and time periods. It starts out awkwardly, though, in prehistory, centered around a series of assertions that are not at all backed up. I realize that because of the breadth of the book she isn't going to cite every bit of evidence in the text itself. There are extensive references in the back. But when one declares what sex was like in say, the Edo period, it's obvious that we have a bunch of evidence including diaries, governmental records, drawings, and artifacts. When one makes declarations about what sex was like in prehistoric times, though, I feel like you need to back up your arguments a little more rigorously. Especially since a bunch of her declarations sounded pretty bullshitty to me. I'm happy to be proven wrong, but I kicked off the book with skepticism I never subsequently shook. The last chapter as she winds up to (for her) present day also shows some of how her own views color her account. Unfortunately, the rest is presented as blatant fact, making it hard to evaluate some of the claims. There's a lot here that's quite interesting, though.
#28: Venice: A New History by Thomas Madden. 5. I'll admit, I'm so incredibly in love with Venice as a city. The Venetians were just so different from pretty much anyone else around them, and I have to admire their spirit. Of course, I'm sure a history of the same periods from, say, the Genoese perspective would paint them quite differently than Madden, who is an unabashed Venice-lover. But for covering such a wide period of time, Madden does a fabulous job of giving perspective, helping you understand the chronology, and still taking time to note the small personal details that makes history come alive.
#29: Paradise of Cities: Venice in the 19th Century by John Julius Norwich. 2.5. This is a collection of chapters about notable English and American expats who lived in Venice in the 1800s. It's supposed to reveal the character of the city. At the end, the author wonders if he focused too much on the eyes of the people instead of the city through their eyes. The answer is yes. It's a far too detailed account of the lives of a bunch of people, several of whom are only significant for having been a big part of the expat scene. But most of what he talks about for each one is their lives outside of Venice. I was hoping to get more of a sense of the social scene at the time. Instead, I know about this one's feud with the British museum and that one getting in a fight with a judge in Boston. I...really don't care.
#30: Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. 5. This is a really difficult book. But a blistering, passionate, brilliant necessary one. I do not necessarily agree with all of Coates' arguments in his writing in general, but given the events of the last few years, I find it hard to argue with his perspective here. He's been told all his life that if he follows the rules, everything will be fine. And indeed, he's followed the rules and he's achieved a nice life for himself and his family. But his rage and his terror and his knowledge that all the rules in the world will not protect him or more importantly, his son, from being killed by the people who are ostensibly supposed to protect him because of the color of his skin fuels this polemic of searing but beautiful intensity. As a relatively privileged person, I admit that I don't actually know what to do with this. But I feel that I need to have read it.
#27: Sex in History by Reay Tannahill. 3.5. The later parts of this ambitious work do a nice job of covering both sex and sexism across cultures and time periods. It starts out awkwardly, though, in prehistory, centered around a series of assertions that are not at all backed up. I realize that because of the breadth of the book she isn't going to cite every bit of evidence in the text itself. There are extensive references in the back. But when one declares what sex was like in say, the Edo period, it's obvious that we have a bunch of evidence including diaries, governmental records, drawings, and artifacts. When one makes declarations about what sex was like in prehistoric times, though, I feel like you need to back up your arguments a little more rigorously. Especially since a bunch of her declarations sounded pretty bullshitty to me. I'm happy to be proven wrong, but I kicked off the book with skepticism I never subsequently shook. The last chapter as she winds up to (for her) present day also shows some of how her own views color her account. Unfortunately, the rest is presented as blatant fact, making it hard to evaluate some of the claims. There's a lot here that's quite interesting, though.
#28: Venice: A New History by Thomas Madden. 5. I'll admit, I'm so incredibly in love with Venice as a city. The Venetians were just so different from pretty much anyone else around them, and I have to admire their spirit. Of course, I'm sure a history of the same periods from, say, the Genoese perspective would paint them quite differently than Madden, who is an unabashed Venice-lover. But for covering such a wide period of time, Madden does a fabulous job of giving perspective, helping you understand the chronology, and still taking time to note the small personal details that makes history come alive.
#29: Paradise of Cities: Venice in the 19th Century by John Julius Norwich. 2.5. This is a collection of chapters about notable English and American expats who lived in Venice in the 1800s. It's supposed to reveal the character of the city. At the end, the author wonders if he focused too much on the eyes of the people instead of the city through their eyes. The answer is yes. It's a far too detailed account of the lives of a bunch of people, several of whom are only significant for having been a big part of the expat scene. But most of what he talks about for each one is their lives outside of Venice. I was hoping to get more of a sense of the social scene at the time. Instead, I know about this one's feud with the British museum and that one getting in a fight with a judge in Boston. I...really don't care.
#30: Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. 5. This is a really difficult book. But a blistering, passionate, brilliant necessary one. I do not necessarily agree with all of Coates' arguments in his writing in general, but given the events of the last few years, I find it hard to argue with his perspective here. He's been told all his life that if he follows the rules, everything will be fine. And indeed, he's followed the rules and he's achieved a nice life for himself and his family. But his rage and his terror and his knowledge that all the rules in the world will not protect him or more importantly, his son, from being killed by the people who are ostensibly supposed to protect him because of the color of his skin fuels this polemic of searing but beautiful intensity. As a relatively privileged person, I admit that I don't actually know what to do with this. But I feel that I need to have read it.
