The Poisoned City: Flint’s Water and the American Urban Tragedy (Clark)

I haven’t finished an audio book for a while. Sometimes, they seem to drone on and on, especially if the reader is not very good. Xe Sands, the reader here, does a credible job here by largely staying out of the way and letting Clark’s research speak for itself. This is a powerful and specific story because it combines discussion of policy, science and the essential ingredient – personal stories. Clark has us meet residents, civic and church leaders as well as some of the people who first tried to figure out what was happening and convince others to take action. The corruption and ineptitude ran deep, and Clark’s writing suggested to me that this is far from the last one of these stories that will emerge. I appreciated how she didn’t treat the water crisis just as a surface issue (I can’t stop running into water language), but outlined the systems in place that made this crisis, or a crisis, inevitable. I wish she’d reached for that kind of depth in her epilogue though. The first part of it, which re-visits a church leader, is poignant. The second part, her big recommendation, was a little too mawkish for me and for the ending of this book, which is far from the end of this story.

Tonight No Poetry Will Serve (Rich)

I recently had the opportunity to hear Claudia Rankine talk, and she spoke about how much Rich was an influence on her so that got me in the mood to read some of her work. I think I’ve been reading too much modern poetry lately, and as odd as this may seem, a lot of it comes across as too loud. Sometimes, there’s too much posturing and not enough substance. Too much shouting and not enough style. I wanted something that would slow me down. And Rich, with “Tonight No Poetry Will Serve” and “Powers of Recuperation” and “Ballade of the Poverties” did just that.

Here’s “Tonight No Poetry Will Serve” —

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/tonight-no-poetry-will-serve

On New Terrain: How Capital is Reshaping the Battleground of Class War (Moody)

Since I am not too well-versed in economic theory (I chose to evade Marx in college), this was a challenging read for me. It’s not Moody’s fault. His explanations are clear and persuasive. I’m familiar with the argument (if not entirely convinced by it) that says electoral politics are not the way to make change. Like others, I have begun to realize the value of local races and developing a pipeline of effective leaders. And like others, I am delighted by the influx of women and representatives from a range of cultures that are now in Congress.

The most compelling part of this book for me was the argument about how Democrats have lost their way – not only because of the influx of capital and Citizens United but because they no longer represent the interests of those who voted for Obama or, further back, the interests of those who were once the core of the party, like unions. The Democrats no longer knock on doors. They use data to determine who to talk to about their votes. The reason our current ‘president’ is in office is not, Moody points out, because of who voted for him; it’s because of who didn’t vote.

But Moody doesn’t want to pursue a top-down solution. Not even socialism, he reminds us, can be imposed. He wants us to work outside of politics with unions as the center of our strength, and not what he calls the “bureaucratic business unionism” he says has started to prevail.

I watched a documentary about the Black Panthers. In one scene, they went to make their case to a group of West Virginia coal miners (if memory serves). A more incongruous pairing, at least visually, you can not imagine. At the end, one of the coal miners says, “If they’re for jobs, I can get behind them.” I think that’s what Moody would love. One of the responses to the 2016 presidential election was the notion that we need to find new allies. The Panthers, led by Fred Hampton at that time, I believe, did that.

No wonder we killed him.

Blood, Bones & Butter (Hamilton)

This account of The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef is a pretty good read. Hamilton takes us from her uniquely idyllic childhood and its implosion to her almost impulsive decision to open her restaurant and from her odd little marriage of convenience to its likely implosion. And there are a few stops in Italy along the way.

I haven’t read many chef memoirs and this, I think, is the first one by a female. Hamilton addresses the gender issue when she is an invited panelist for an up and coming female chefs and nothing goes the way she wants it to.

I don’t think I’ll ever gain a full appreciation of what it takes to be any part of a restaurant (I’ve never worked any job related to one), but this did add to my appreciation. We happened to go out to dinner while I was reading this and to have some idea of everything that happened to get that meal in front of me was staggering. And I tried to notice, appreciate, and be grateful for every little detail.

Trimalchio (Fitzgerald)

I did not know this early version of The Great Gatsby was available until recently, and when I learned of its existence, I was intrigued enough to want to try it. I’m sure a Fitzgerald scholar could go through it with you line-by-line to show you all of the changes and discuss their significance. I certainly noticed plenty and found most of them to be worth a pause or two for the purposes of contemplation. Mostly, though, I once again got swept up in the story.

I am glad this book exists. I fear that with the computer age, we are losing first drafts and any evidence of the revision process. I enjoy such things and suspect I am not alone. They are certainly great teaching tools.

Mr. Laurel and Mr. Hardy (McCabe)

I have bookmarks in far too many things right now (and I rarely admit that), so it’s been a challenge to actually finish anything. After enjoying the movie Stan & Ollie, I picked this up and was enjoying it and was on my way to finishing it when, and I’m not kidding here, the dog ate my book. I probably would have been more annoyed by that fact, but I imagined that it could have become a gag in a Laurel & Hardy film.

In any event, McCabe makes his motives clear in the subtitle for this book when he calls it “An affectionate biography of Laurel & Hardy.” Relying mostly on conversations with Laurel (Hardy was apparently not very interested in discussing comedy and trusted Laurel to represent them both), McCabe explores the arc of their career. And I’m going to use the singular there because it really was one career. Near the end of it, they even made that a legal fact – one contract for the pair of them.

There’s a fair amount of time spent discussing what made them successful and, more specifically, what made them so funny. The only factor that I merited more discussion was Laurel’s involvement in pretty much every aspect of production. He was the ultimate hyphenate before that term was even invented.

I’ll probably watch a few of their movies now. I’m not sure I’ll find them funny, but I will appreciate them more. I am probably more inclined to the direction Chaplin – once in the same troupe as Laurel (can you imagine that?!?) went, a direction referred to here as ‘social comedy.’

I enjoyed the movie, though some of its elements were, I know now, distorted.

a randomly selected clip – short enough that you might actually watch it and whoever posted it likes it a lot

A Letter from Manus Island (Boochani)

If you haven’t already heard, Behrouz Boochani, a Kurdish Iranian writer, won two of Australia’s biggest literary prizes for his new book, No Friend But the Mountains. He is a detained asylum seeker who is not allowed into Australia and had to deliver his acceptance speech remotely. The new book is not available yet, so I found his first, more a book than a manifesto. And it is both powerful and poetic. It’s also a reminder that the US is not the only place mangling the process of integrating asylum seekers. I am glad that the news of the awards brought Boochani to my attention. I am certainly curious about the newer book which was apparently composed entirely of text messages. But this one, and the actions Boochani describes in this slim text, they give me hope.

The Poet X (Acevedo)

This is a novel-in-verse. Occasionally, the plot sparkles and sometimes, the words do. Both come together in the end and I admit I got the goose bumps that come with a happy ending. Overall, it might be a bit long, but it’s worth persevering. And if students will read it, then I’m all for it. I do like that Acevedo is unafraid of difficult topics and she is also great at leaving the Spanish in Spanish. Not everything needs to be translated. Not everything should be translated. This one’s not for teaching, but I would put it in the right student’s hands.

Chronicle of a Death Foretold (Garcia Marquez)

I liked it – a quick kind of mystery story. I’m just not sure I get it, at least not enough to teach it. His writing is always delightfully off-balance and vivid. Maybe if I tried to teach it I would learn as I go. Certainly, it’s short which makes it appealing for the classroom. His characters always spring to life with just a few brush strokes. I got the sense that there might be some issues of ethnic tension. But it didn’t sing to me, so I don’t think I’m going to try to teach it.

Road to Rust (Perelman)

I didn’t mean to, but apparently I picked up the sequel. Perelman’s first book, Steel, details the rise of the steel and iron industry in western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio. This is the story of the fall. It centers on the labor wars but does not neglect the choices that the industry made (such as not investing in new technology or at least being very late to do so) that helped it bury itself. Though Perelman comes down on the side of labor, he does not let labor off the hook for the way its greed became the final nails in the industry’s coffin or the way that its racism kept it from developing the kind of coalition that might have made it more effective.

Perelman’s attention to detail is terrific. Though certain characters rise (Judge Gary, John L. Lewis) sometimes take center stage, this is truly the story on ground level. I had no idea of the kind of violence that took place. I always knew about workers not being able to get into factories, but trying to air drop food to workers who couldn’t get out?

The book, complete with photographs and the occasional political cartoon, is very insightful. Perelman keeps his account moving well and it is engaging enough that you will feel like you’ll want to go back into one of the board meetings he describes or a union rally and make an adjustment so that the story ends better. So much of it seems like it was so avoidable. And that’s what makes it a tragedy.