Kindle Consumption: 2023

A handful of books were my companions each evening this year as I dozed off, or was wakeful, or inexplicably alert in the wee hours. Some off these I’ll recommend wholeheartedly, while others are not worth your time.

Menagerie Manor, by Gerald Durrell- Some of us are acquainted with Durrell through his accounts of an idyllic boyhood on the Greek island of Corfu. Durrell continues his obsession with animals in this volume, a collection of stories from Durrell’s years building and maintaining a zoo. The quality of the writing is an echo of My Family and Other Animals; however, in some of the stories, Durrell is inspired again, and I was at times happily transported in his telling of how he acquired and maintained his zoo creatures. Durrell is known for helping to revolutionize the purposes and operations of zoos, yet sometimes I found myself wondering whether a few of his animals would have been more content left alone in the wild. In some ways, perhaps, he never stopped being that ten-year-old kid fighting the odds to maintain his vast collection of specimens.

Vagabonding: an Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel, by Rolf Potts. Despite the inviting title, the author failed to convince me to adopt his philosophically driven approach to travel. If you really want to travel, to understand a place, he says, you have to build your life around traveling and then really spend time in the country you want to explore. Don’t just drop in for a few days, visit tourist destinations, and then race off to continue your career. Instead, work and save money just to travel. Then get there and be there. Go slowly. Really experience what the place is like. I’m glad Rolf Potts gets to spend his life this way, and he probably loves it. Most of us are enriched by what he would see as quick swoops into new territory, and are happy to resume our working lives back in the States, amongst friends and family. I found the author’s manner a little off-putting, as if he had a chip on his shoulder, and I don’t remember learning a great deal or vicariously experiencing his journeys as I hoped I would.

Walking to Samarkand: The Great Silk Road from Persia to Central Asia, by Bernard Olivier-When this travel narrative opened with the writer’s inner conflict about his long tour on foot, I thought it was going to be the French version of Vagabonding. Thankfully, that was not so. Walking to Samarkand makes us Bernard’s traveling companions through countries rarely visited or even discussed by the average Westerner. Ostensibly reporting on ancient travel lodges along the Silk Road, the author considers these buildings only briefly. His story is more about the people, friends, food, and challenges he encounters on his route, which began when he was dropped off in Turkey and included a trek through Iran and Turkmenistan. Through my reading, I learned that one can walk well over thirty miles in a day, if motivated enough. Since this narrative was an almost ideal bedtime companion—engaging, yet soothing in its way—I plan to keep an eye out for his other Silk Road volumes.

Growing Up Hard in Harlan County, by G.C. Jones- Probably my most recommended book this year, Growing Up Hard takes us to a pre-Depression-era childhood in a mountainous Kentucky coal-mining community and introduces us to a way of life most of us have never contemplated. In Jones’ humble, nearly illiterate voice, he recounts for us in detail how he took advantage of surprising opportunities to make a living while still a boy. Descriptions of hauling wagonloads of supplies over a mountain take up pages of text, but readers can’t help but admire the author’s tenacity and quick skill acquisition. While still a child, G.C., owns a pair of fine mules, and it’s startling how well he’s compensated for the work he does, as well as how honest both he and the business owners are in their transactions. Sadly, the author had a troubled—and puzzling—relationship with his father, and was kicked out of his home for seemingly no reason at twelve. He could have used the fat pile of bills he earned from his labors, but he chooses to give most of it back to his family instead.

The story takes us through the Depression, where opportunities tanked and we see the government stepping in to make sure residents had enough food to keep body and soul together; through coal mine wars, where mine owners were ruthless and local authorities were corrupt; to his own business ventures as an adult, where the soil for independent enterprise does not seem as fertile as it was during that author’s childhood. The only point of pride in G.C.’s life seems to be in his many children, whom he cherishes more than makes sense for a product of such a dysfunctional childhood. The book ends somewhat abruptly, as the author describes his working life in later years, adds some thoughts, and stops writing. Perhaps fittingly, the internet gives little clue as to the identity and appearance of G.C. He was just a quiet American who did his part to build our country, starting with a pair of fine black mules.

Astonishing Bathroom Reader, by Diego Jourdan Pereira- For me, this was a bedtime reader, and not consumed on the toilet, although I was treated to a number of clever potty jokes while drifting off to sleep. This was a solid nighttime companion in that most of it was not too exciting, but engaging and informative enough to keep me turning the pages. It was divided into sections such as astronomy and the human body, and very long—definitely worth more in content than the two dollars or so I paid for it.

The book had a number of faults, one being the aforementioned vulgarity that I found unnecessary and a little gross. I was also skeptical of many of the “facts” I read, some of them raising more questions than answers. The writer did not shy away from dark, grisly, and unmentionable topics, which I could have done without. I scanned and skipped around to avoid them, but there were still some statements I couldn’t unsee. He also took shallow dips into topics, leaving readers unsatisfied. I began to suspect that the author assembled the book by scanning Wikipedia, pulling anything that looked interesting for those needing entertainment while unavoidably delayed. I still appreciated the effort it took for him to curate his content, however, and enjoyed novelties such as the survey of mythical creatures like Sasquatch and the Loch Ness Monster. Apparently, similar lake creatures have been spotted around the globe, including in the body of water an hour from my house. I might have shelled out two dollars for that fact alone.

To the Edge of the Sky, by Anhua Gao- Edge of the Sky is one of those autobiographies that opens up vivid new worlds to readers. In this case, the world is a dark one. Gao was raised by parents who were high up in the Chinese Communist Party, seemingly noble and beloved idealists whose privileged life at first cushioned her from the realities of life after the revolution. Soon enough, however, Mao’s insane Cultural Revolution pronouncements penetrated, and she knew hunger and shame and struggle, especially after her parents died. Some of Gao’s accounts in this lengthy, detailed work are incredible, such as when Chinese citizens, blindly following poetic dictates of Mao, killed off all the birds in their country, an action whose repercussions are still felt today.

Gao managed to go to school, join the army, get married, and pursue a career, while often witnessing bizarre acts of mob persecution directed at individuals. She tired of the constant politics and brutality. The day came when she herself fell from the good graces of the authorities, and endured unjust imprisonment. Today, she lives in freedom, having kept her wits and determination to survive her ordeal. Gao writes well, yet leaves us with a few questions and sections of her story that perhaps could have been shortened. However, readers are the richer for knowing Gao and the truth of what life was like under an evil Communist dictator.

The Secret War for the Union: The Untold Story of Military Intelligence in the Civil War, by Edwin C. Fisher- Despite the riveting title, this book did not deliver. It was full of dry facts and battle logistics that would have been far more digestible presented through visual media. After a short struggle, I surrendered.

The Wreckers, by Bella Bathurst- The mind-blowing fact I got from this book is that shipwrecks were frequent in the past; the ocean floor is littered with wrecks. After imparting that concept, the author tried but failed to hold my attention with tales of crooked folks who made a living by illegally salvaging what came ashore from the ruined ships, who may or may not have helped along the deaths of those who were doomed to drown. The author says that few sailors in the past learned to swim, and finding themselves in the sea, they would give themselves up to the deep. Furthermore, rescues were not systematic or much attempted until later in history. The book suffers from not having sufficient material for a whole volume, and circles back to repeat and explore what was said before. A few chapters in, I found no need to expend further energy on the otherwise promising work.

Brave Companions: Portraits in History, by Dave McCollough- This is a collection of the biographer’s short pieces, probably commissioned by magazines. Some reviewers didn’t appreciate the bundling of articles into a book, but I enjoy well-written shorter works. The quality may have been uneven, but the story of the Brooklyn Bridge was outstanding. I also appreciated the account of the Panama Canal, liked reading of Roosevelt out west, and enjoyed other pieces that provided a calm evening’s distraction. This was two dollars well spent, regardless of the nature of the collection.

What did you read in 2023?