This was as horrifying as it was incredible. A powerful retelling of one of the most devastating natural disasters in recent decades, coupled with personal accounts from survivors. Some scenes are truly disturbing — please take care to read the content warnings.
The insight into the political climate surrounding the tsunami, the pitfalls of Japanese authorities, and the society’s response was particularly interesting. What is most terrifying, though, is that despite the country’s preparedness, lives will still be lost in future disasters. This made me consider what it’s like to live under the constant threat of natural disaster, with the possibility of losing loved ones, a home you spent a lifetime making your own, or even your own life. It reminded me to be grateful for what I have.
Loved this! This book offers a comprehensive look at the history of food and our eating habits. The tone is appropriate and non-judgmental throughout — something I was concerned about going into it.
The author provides a sociological assessment of various food-related issues, such as access to food, time poverty, gender, and eating disorders. There is a great balance between personal experience and research, with many different cultures and lifestyles represented. This type of book is enjoyable in audiobook form, as it's almost like a podcast. I find myself thinking about some of the information I learnt from here on a regular basis, and would love to have my own copy of it at some point.
First, let’s get this out of the way: yes, this is a book about a white woman temporarily moving to a developing country to ‘find herself’… BUT! This story is about more than meets the surface. Zeppa is extremely vulnerable, relaying her unfiltered experiences and less-than-perfect thoughts/worries/feelings. She demonstrates an ability to view herself and her surroundings critically. She experiences severe cultural shock upon her arrival in Bhutan, but overtime falls madly in love with the country and its people. She inevitably compares her home country (Canada) with Bhutan, and, in doing so, indirectly touches on the differences between individualism and collectivism, materialism and material poverty, as well as Christianity and Buddhism. There’s just an abundance of food for thought. I’m now on the search for a more recent book on Bhutan that accounts for the development that has occurred since 1999, especially with the well-known Gross National Happiness Index. I would love to see Zeppa update this book if she hasn’t already done so.
My favourite quotes (spoilers):
(About Bhutan) What I love most is how seamless everything is. You walk through a forest and come out in a village, and there's no difference, no division. You aren't in nature one minute and in civilisation the next. The houses are made out of mud and stone and wood, drawn from the land around. Nothing stands out, nothing jars.
And if you hit upon the idea that this or that country is safe, prosperous, or fortunate, give it up, my friend...for you ought to know that the world is ablaze with the fires of some faults or others. There is certain to be some suffering...and a wholly fortunate country does not exist anywhere. Whether it be excessive cold or heat, sickness or danger, something always afflicts people everywhere; no safe refuge can thus be found in the world — Buddhist scriptures
Standing there with an armful of rhododendrons I have picked in the forest, I am aware of two possible versions: I can see either the postcard, or I can see the family bent over the earth in aching, backbreaking labor, the ghosts of two children dead of some easily preventable disease, and not enough money for all of the surviving children to buy the shoes and uniforms required for school. It is too easy to romanticize Bhutan. The landscape cannot answer back, cannot say, no you are wrong, life here is different but if you add everything up, it's not better. It is merely a scenic backdrop for the other life you will always be able to return to, a life in which you will not be a farmer scraping a living out of difficult terain.
This short story collection is somewhat experimental in its format and style, to the point where it’s often difficult to piece together. Some stories had fascinating observations about the nature of travel, and I found myself enthralled by the writing. Yet, they always ended too soon. Others were more like poems—a paragraph’s length and written in a cryptic style. I think this book is designed to be savoured—you read a story or two every day while on a trip or adventure.
This book feels intimate in a way that is hard to replicate—like I’m sitting next to Mr. Smith in his cabin while he tells me anecdotes from his life. He has a great literary voice—his humour and sincerity shine through. Reading this hasn’t made me desire to live off-grid; that’s not the point. But it has shown me that it is possible to live completely on your own terms, as long as you have the survival skills to do so (I do not). He notes that he was able to leave society behind precisely because he was never tied down in the first place; he had no obligations or responsibilities toward anyone at the time. It’s not so easy once you have social connections to maintain. Most of all, I loved the descriptions of nature, animals, and the simple life—all of which reminded me to look more closely and lovingly at my own natural surroundings.
A wholesome and poignant young adult novel! The build-up was unusually slow, but the payoff was great. I loved the complex themes of mental health, belonging, and friendship. I wish I had a book like this to read when I was younger (❁´◡`❁)
Stories of mental illness are always worth sharing, in hopes that they make someone feel less alone in their struggle. Haig does a good job of putting abstract feelings into words while emphasizing that experiences of depression vary greatly.
This book is just that—his experience. For a book entitled ‘Reasons to Live,’ it lacks any practical advice, even falling short of prompting people to seek professional help or therapy.
Revisiting ‘The Vegetarian’ for a second read was just as impactful as the first. I admire this novel for its stark and harrowing portrayal of the ways women are both controlled and overlooked. Yeong-hye is practically invisible in her marriage—her husband nonchalantly admits that he settled for her. Yet, when she makes a decision for herself by adopting vegetarianism, it triggers a significant reaction from those around her. She doesn’t even own her narrative; it’s commandeered by the men in her life, making for a compelling use of the unreliable narrator. Throughout the book, she is sexualized, scrutinized, and dictated on how she should behave. Sadly, empathy and assistance are scarce.
Her desire to stop consuming—meat, and more broadly, resources—resonates with me. There are moments when I grapple with immense guilt over consumption, feeling undeserving of it all. Her longing to become one with nature and to cease being a burden mirrors a broader sentiment of not wanting to impose upon the world. Ultimately, her transformation into a natural existence is a sort of self-purification, liberating her from these burdens and the scrutiny of men.
There's also an interesting conversation to be had about the social pressures and conventions around eating meat. This theme reminds me of Ruth Ozeki's novel 'My Year of Meats' which explores the meat-obsessed cultures in Japan and the U.S. in more detail.
A very fascinating and well-researched book that doesn't give you a 'step-by-step' guide to drawing, but instead teaches you to develop an artists' perspective. I think that understanding these concepts is a much better starting point. I've been working through the exercises in this book slowly, while also drawing things that I like in between to keep myself interested.
This is a good short story with beautiful writing and imagery, as well as some poignant observations about the power of memory, youth, and love. Something short and sweet to get you through a coffee break.