foggyreads

by David Chang (2020)

2022 reads, book 3/20:

I’ve only started watching chef David Chang the past couple of years, when I first saw him guest star on The Chef Show with Roy Choi and Jon Favreau. I then watched his most famous show Ugly Delicious, and more recently, The Next Thing You Eat. But these (mainly) lighthearted food-oriented shows are a stark contrast from the deeply personal stories and thoughts that Chang offers here.

In the preface, Chang says something along the lines of him being afraid for you to read his book – and I understand why. He lays out all of the ugly details here, many of which are his own mistakes. The first part of the book is in classic memoir style, written in a more-or-less chronological order; he touches on his childhood, college, and culinary school experiences, then focuses on his time working in a restaurant, to finally becoming a restaurant owner. The second part then loses its chronological format, and to me became more of a series of essays, where he touches on an important topic/event in his life or the restaurant industry in general.

What Chang does really well is offer a stellar view of what it’s like to rise up the ranks and run a restaurant in a messed-up industry (all with the imposter syndrome he dealt still deals with). We’ve all heard about chefs yelling in kitchens à la Gordon Ramsey, but Chang goes into even more detail about how all the stressors that come from working as a chef, including racism and sexism to name a few, lead to drugs, alcoholism, and poor mental health for many young chefs. I truly appreciated Chang’s candor throughout this book; especially seen in the chapter where he shows you how he would have wanted to rewrite his history, and the chapter where he turns 35 years old.

Bottom line: the synergistic interaction between Chang’s turbulent life and all of the issues that come with working in a restaurant is what made this book so honest, heartbreaking, and hopeful.

#readingyear2022 #bio #foodanddrink #physicallyowned

by Stuart Rojstaczer (2014)

2022 reads, book 2/20:

I wish Goodreads let you do half stars. I was really interested in the concept of this book going in. The main character, Sasha, is not only dealing with the loss of his mother, but also the fact that she could have solved one of the greatest problems in mathematics (worth one million dollars), but rumor has it she spitefully took the proof to her grave. So, other mathematicians who knew her come to sit Shiva, and try and see if she has the solution anywhere hidden in the house.

However, when actually reading the book, this plot seemed to take a backseat to the more memoir-eqsue style of the main character’s narration, consistently going back and forth between present and past, both in his life and his mother’s. I didn’t really mind this style of writing, but I was just expecting more of a comedy or mystery, so it seemed to drag at points. However, I enjoyed the characters a lot, and their interactions with one another were entertaining. Lastly, the book ended well by satisfyingly tying everything together.

#readingyear2022 #math

by Jean-Paul Sartre (1947)

2022 reads, book 1/20:

This book contains four plays of Jean-Paul Sartre, published between 1943 – 1947. I was most excited to read No Exit, but upon receiving this collection, I’ve read and compiled thoughts for all four plays in this edition below. I would rate the whole collection about 4 stars, but read on for the individual scores below.

No Exit (Huis Clos): A simple premise: three people, who didn’t know one another on Earth, arrive in hell. We, as the audience, simply watch (or read) the dialogue that ensues between them. What starts off a bit slow quickly ramps up to accusations being thrown, secrets being revealed, and true natures coming out at full force. I think it’s a great play, because not only is it a fun read at the surface level, but you can dig deeper into the meanings that Sartre hoped to communicate in this play, regarding freedom, acceptance from others and self-worth. 5/5 stars!

The Flies (Les Mouches): A retelling of the Greek tragedy Electra, which I was unfamiliar with before reading this. The main character Orestes returns to his home city, where he was kidnapped/rescued from as a child, as his father, the king, was murdered by his mother’s lover years earlier. He comes back and meets up with Electra, his sister who still lives there, to enact revenge. While the plot itself didn’t do much for me, the themes and motifs on religion, freedom, and guilt were interesting to dig into as I was reading. As a side note, the context in which Sartre wrote this was fascinating; it is said that he wrote this play to mirror the state of the German occupation of France, but in order to get it past Nazi censors, he disguised the plot into a Greek myth. Overall, 3/5 stars.

Dirty Hands (Les Mains sales): This one was a pretty fun read. It starts off in the future, where we learn that the main character Hugo just finished jail time for assassination of a political figure, and spend the rest of the play revisiting the events that led up to the assassination, to learn why he did it. The dialogue between the characters was witty, expertly written, and never felt dry. Not only was there substance, but the whole play even read like a comedy at times. 4/5 stars overall.

The Respectful Prostitute (La Putain respectueuse): Although it was short, this one was a rough. Set in the American south in the 1940s, this play explored not just racism, but power of the different political figures of that time. It was rough to read because of the vulgarity of the language, and the way that most, if not all, the characters acted throughout. Not only that, but the ending unfortunately was a bit unsatisfactory, so this gets 3/5 stars.

#readingyear2022 #physicallyowned #philosophy #theatre

by Albert Camus (1942)

"I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself, forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

It would be unfair to give this anything less than four stars, even though at times it felt like a three-star read. But that would be my own fault, since Camus pretty much assumes you know a good amount of many philosophers before him. Does this mean the book is not worth reading? I certainly don’t think so. I just knew that I needed to have my phone at the ready to get a quick history lesson in case Camus name-dropped someone nonchalantly.

As far as content, though, it really does an excellent job of getting to the point (eventually). By that, I mean I would find myself reading a few pages, wondering where things were heading, only for it to all click at a later point in time. The first section and the last section were probably my favorite, with being a little drier in the middle. Overall though, a great read to get to the core of Camus’ ideas, and the best way (other than maybe reading The Stranger) to understand absurdism at its core.

#readingyear2021 #absurdism #philosophy

by Albert Camus (1942)

It seems odd to review The Stranger only now, since I finished this book months ago. But this review has been sitting in a word document on my desktop this whole time, and all this time has helped me compile and organize my thoughts. In my review of Kafka’s The Trial, I mentioned how the absurdity lies mainly within the relationship between the main character and the elusive governing body that is accusing him. In The Stranger, it seems like the absurdity now exists between the main character, Meursault, and a plethora of social norms, all portrayed by different characters. Death (his mother), marriage (Marie), friendships (Raymond, Salamano, Masson), and religion (the pastor) are all life experiences that Meursault is confronted with. And what I saw a lot of in The Stranger was Meursault’s conflict with a society who viewed him as someone who did not abide by these norms.

But I even hesitate to call this a conflict, because Meursault seems at peace with himself throughout the book. Maybe it’s one sided? He may be scared or upset sometimes, but he never doubts what he believes. And this (to me) is the main theme of the book and Camus’s philosophy – Meursault is ‘free’ in this sense, and by accepting that these different experiences are meaningless to him, he is not bound to any sort of ground truth (by religion or other means) and is free to create his own meaning in his life.

This sounds great, but this line of thinking doesn’t come without conflict. The other characters do not share his views, and the conversations between Meursault and the pastor (one of the best dialogues I’ve read) perfectly exemplifies this. The pastor seems to be saying what everyone around him was thinking when presented with Meursault’s odd way of life.

This was one of my favorite books this year, and I would recommend to anyone wanting to either step more into the philosophical side of fiction or just read a modern(ish?) classic without being intimidated by a large page count.

#readingyear2021 #absurdism #favorites

by Erin Morgenstern (2011)

This is one of the first fantasy books I’ve ever read (I again apologize to Rachel for having never read Harry Potter – I promise I’ll get to it), and I think it did a great job at some things, and an okay job at others.

I’ll start by saying that this book absolutely ruined circuses for me, due to Morgenstern's incredible scene-setting talent. If I go to a circus and it’s not as she describes it in this book, then I don’t even want to go. The scenery and backdrop was set perfectly. The descriptions as the characters were walking through the circus touched upon all five senses, from the extravagant visuals to the wafting smells of circus fare that the characters would eat. Not to mention, the whole process of setting up the circus in the first part of the book was fascinating.

But while Morgenstern’s writing provided an excellent background for a story to take place, the plot’s timing felt a bit off. The beginning was extremely gradual, which might have been okay, but then the end felt a bit rushed. That being said, don’t let this review deter you from picking up this absolutely charming novel.

#readingyear2021 #physicallyowned #fantasy

by Franz Kafka (1925)

I’m still collecting my thoughts on one of my favorite books this year, Albert Camus’ The Stranger (and hopefully I’ll post them sometime next week), but in the meantime, it might be appropriate to comment on The Trial by Franz Kafka – one of the earliest pieces of absurdist literature. And this book certainly fit the bill – there was no shortage of odd and sometimes creepy situations for the main character, Joseph K. (referred to as K. throughout the book).

While The Trial does hold its rightful place in absurdist fiction, I argue it’s also a great authoritarian novel as well. George Orwell’s 1984 may be the quintessential work of that genre, but The Trial tends to focus less so on the large-scale dystopian/totalitarian society in 1984, and places more emphasis on the asymmetric/authoritarian relationship between K. and the Court that is accusing him. And it’s this Court that he is consistently trying to understand.

Even though this book is certainly dense in some parts (I’m suddenly reminded that K. goes on a 16-page internal tirade against his accusers and the systems that allow it), the ending chapter seems to occur fairly abruptly. The main plot cedes, but there are some loose ends. Throughout the book, K. has riveting conversations with other characters such as his lawyer, a whipper, a painter, a tradesman, and lastly a preacher (side note: a great parallel to The Stranger), but there really seems to be no convergence or closure of these side character plot lines.

However, these issues are likely there because Kafka never actually finished this book, and it wasn’t even published until after his death. It certainly doesn’t ruin the experience, just leaves you wanting a bit more. But even though we will never have the full book, The Trial is 100% worth the read.

#readingyear2021 #absurdism #german

a collection of short stories from The New York Times (2020)

This was definitely an interesting idea put forth by The New York Times. These stories were written during the height of the pandemic, but that doesn't mean that COVID-19 was the main conflict. In fact, in most of these stories, COVID-19 took a back seat to the plot, and each story focused more so on how the pandemic affected the characters and settings.

I struggled between 3 stars and 4 stars for this one – it's tough to rate a whole collection of short stories with just one number. The quality of the stories varied – some of them were really entertaining and thought-provoking, some were just average, and some of them didn't grab my attention at all. But I'll highlight my top ten favorites (in no particular order):

• “Recognition” by Victor LaValle
• “The Rock” by Leïla Slimani
• “Outside” by Etgar Keret
• “Keepsakes” by Andrew O'Hagan
• “The Girl With The Big Red Suitcase” by Rachel Kushner (probably my favorite)
• “If Wishes Was Horses” by David Mitchell
• “The Perfect Travel Buddy” by Paolo Giordano
• “The Cellar” by Dina Nayeri
• “Origin Story” by Matthew Baker
• “Barcelona: Open City” by John Wray

These particular stories were great, and made the whole collection worth reading. Would recommend to anyone who wants to read a variety of 1-2 short stories at a time to fill up some gaps in the day.

#readingyear2021 #shortstories

by Amitav Ghosh (2016)

“Similarly, at exactly the time when it has become clear that global warming is in every sense a collective predicament, humanity finds itself in the thrall of a dominant culture in which the idea of the collective has been exiled from politics, economics, and literature alike.”

As a quick overview, this book is divided into three sections: literature, history, and politics. Each section explores the relationship between that section’s theme, and (mainly) anthropogenic climate change. My thoughts on each section below:

From what I’ve seen, a lot of people enjoyed the first section, ‘Stories,’ which discusses how and why climate change is portrayed poorly in fiction. Personally, this section did not really capture my attention as well as the other two, but I will say that the connection Ghosh makes between the limitation of timescales in fiction and climate change is interesting; it just takes a bit long to get to that point (this is also the longest section in the book).

The second part, ‘History,’ is probably my favorite section, and one of the most interesting takes on climate change that I have ever read – Ghosh argues in great detail how imperialism (alongside capitalism) should be at the center stage in the rise of anthropogenic climate change in the 19th and 20th centuries. What cemented my love for this section was the well-thought-out argument of how the relationship between Asia and western countries (such as Britain and the US) perpetuated climate change into the 21st century.

The final section, ‘Politics,’ continues discussing imperialism as hidden driver of climate change, while simultaneously expanding on two well-known culprits, capitalism and denialism. This section concludes with another personal highlight, a comparison between the Paris Agreement of 2016 and Laudato si’, Pope Francis’ second encyclical, released in 2015.

I recommend this book to anyone who not only wants to take a deeper dive into human history and climate change, but to hear some intriguing takes on humanity’s relationship with the climate and each other.

#readingyear2021 #environment #govpol #science

by Simon Singh (1998)

“The Last Theorem is at the heart of an intriguing saga of courage, skulduggery, cunning, and tragedy, involving all the greatest heroes of mathematics.”

This books chronicles the history of Fermat’s Last Theorem, beginning with the teachings of Pythagoras in 6th century BC, leading into Fermat’s claim that he had the proof figured out in the 17th century, all the way to the final proof of the theorem in the mid-1990s. Mathematicians throughout history tried to prove this particular problem, and as more and more failed the more it essentially became a race. I mean, imagine being able to say you proved what past mathematicians such as Euler, Cauchy, and Gauss could not.

From the viewpoint of someone who works more with applied math, this book made me appreciate those who work in pure math, specifically number theorists. This is math most people, including myself, will never use, as they work on the types of problems that takes years to understand. It's also probably why Fermat’s Last Theorem has been a topic in popular culture, since the problem was at least easy to understand.

One of the best parts of this book is the heartbreaking section on Goro Shimura and Yutaka Taniyama, who together posited the Taniyama–Shimura conjecture in the mid-1950s and acted as a major missing link to prove the theorem. Unfortunately, Taniyama committed suicide and was unable to see his conjecture and the Last Theorem proved in the 1990s. I appreciated how section of the book highlighted their contributions and wished that they had more recognition for their work.

#readingyear2021 #math