The last Barbara Kingsolver books I read were back in high school, for my English classes: Poisonwood Bible, The Bean Trees. I remember when Animal, Vegetable, Miracle first came out last year—I did a double take and kind of thought Kingsolver might just be jumping on the whole food writing bandwagon (I had recently finished reading Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma at the time). But Animal is definitely not in the same vein at Pollan’s books in that it’s more of a personal narrative rather than a manifesto about eating locally/sustainably. It does echo a lot of the same themes, but when I was finished reading Animal, I found myself musing more about whether I too might be suited to a rural life of gardening/farming, like the Kingsolvers discovered they were over the course of the book. The other strong theme in Animal is the idea of eating food in season: Kingsolver teaches the reader about what fruits and vegetables belong to each season by demonstration (writing about what’s in their garden), rather than by lecture, which makes the topic accessible.

Kingsolver’s college-aged daughter Camille also contributes several short essays accompanied by recipes, which adds a refreshing young perspective and voice to the overall book.

Though the book is essentially just a collection of Steingarten’s pieces for Vogue, it’s a well-curated compilation. Steingarten’s at his most enjoyable when his articles focus on the food he is passionate about (the chapters on bread, steak, and chocolate are my favorite examples), and less when he’s just trying to be funny (writing about when he broke his ankle, or about a trip into the desert). The book also reveals a side of Steingarten I wasn’t as familiar with before—the role of home chef (rather than food enthusiast/critic). Though it’s clear from his stories that Steingarten has expensive tastes and a sophisticated palate, his writing doesn’t come off as being snobbish (at least, most of the time). A nice, fun read for anyone who enjoys food and learning more about it.

Anthony Bourdain is a badass. That’s all I have to say.

I bought the audiobook for a roadtrip. It’s read by Vowell and features voice cameos from Brad Bird (from the Incredibles), Jon Stewart (as President Garfield), Conan O’Brien, and other interesting personalities. I had fun trying to guess who was who. :)

Dawkins’s prose is compelling and imaginative, and the points he brings up about evolution and the origin of life are thought-provoking and bold. He doesn’t hesitate to criticise/poke fun at people, whether that be the religious right, President Bush, Tony Blair, intelligent design theorists—but you have to give him credit for his persuasiveness and clear arguments. He highlights the beauty of Darwinian evolution by making it seem simultaneously complex and simple; one of my favorite parts of the entire book is this excerpt from the end of a subchapter called “The Flounder’s Tale” :

Perfectionism is a vice of evolutionists. We are so used to the wonders of Darwinian adaptation, is it tempting to believe there could be nothing better… [but] imagine how imperfect a jet engine would be if, instead of being designed on a clean drawing board, it had to be changed one step at a time, screw by screw and rivet by rivet, from a propeller engine.

A skate is a flat fish that might have been designed on a drawing board to be flat, resting on its belly, with wide ‘wings’ reaching symmetrically out to both sides. Teleost flatfish do it a different way. They rest on one side, either the left (e.g. plaice) or the right (e.g. turbot and flounder). Whichever the side, the shape of the whole skull is distorted so that the eye on the lower side moves over to the upper side, where it can see. Picasso would have loved them. But, by the standards of any drawing board, they are revealingly imperfect. They have precisely the kind of imperfection you would expect from being evolved rather than designed.

Much more expansive, substantive, and fulfilling than the original radio series (which I was able to get from a friend and listened to prior to reading the book). I’m a little crushed about the ending, though!

A must-read for any Lord of the Rings fan, and in some ways—especially scope, depth, and sheer epicness—The Silmarillion is better than the trilogy. This is my second reading of the book, and every time, I’m left with a profound appreciation of the work that Tolkien poured into his vast mythology. Now I’m thinking about whether to read Unfinished Tales.

I especially appreciated the new afterword written by Gladwell—it reviewed some aspects of the book as they apply to this age of the internet, and just made the tipping point concept that much more relevant. The conversational nature of Gladwell’s prose is at times compelling and at other times a little confusing. I’m definitely planning to read the book again.