Waypoints: Part through-hike story, part life history

I missed getting this post written up for a new release Tuesday post on 10/25, but it works out OK because I’ve been slogging through Martin Chuzzlewit for the last month and once again I don’t think I’ll have it done in time for this week’s review. Maybe next week.

I have loved everything Outlander since I first picked up the book in 2015. So naturally when I saw a memoir by Sam Heughan hitting shelves this month, I had to add it to my reading list. It was a fun read, but I don’t think it was the best it could have been.

Waypoints juxtaposes Heughan’s journey to becoming a recognized actor with his spur-of-the-moment decision to complete a 96-mile through-hike of the West Highland Way during a random week off in the fall. Each chapter covers one day of his hike, interspersed with memories and reflections on his life and breaking into the acting spotlight. The book provides his personal history and professional journey, highlighting lessons he learned along the way.

I enjoyed this book to a degree, but I struggled with the way his hiking journey related to his life journey. Did the book come about because hiking led him to be reflective of his life and career so far? Did he just think, “they’re both journeys, why not put them together?” I’m not sure, but I personally don’t feel like it worked perfectly.

With a title like Waypoints I guess I expected it to be a little more obvious. In the sense that, maybe it would have worked better to have each chapter focused on getting to the end (waypoint) for each day of hiking, then having a clear waypoint in his life or career that the chapter also focused on. We begin the book thinking it’s going to be a lot about his West Highland Way hike, but it ends up primarily being a memoir of acting. Which is fine, but it makes the hiking bits feel a little out of place.

I will say, having done some backpacking and attempted one through-hike of comparable length, I did enjoy the hiking bits and got a laugh out of his panic buying all sorts of gear, hating the weight of his pack, and scoffing initially at hiking poles. If nothing else, this book has inspired me to add the West Highland Way to my hiking bucket list.

Good Omens: An apocalyptic comedy of errors

Good Omens has been on my reading list for a while. I’ve only read a little bit of Neil Gaiman’s work and none of Terry Pratchett’s, but after watching the show I bumped this book to the top of the list. And let me just say the audio production with David Tennant and Michael Sheen was excellent. Better than reading it myself, possibly.

Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon make an unlikely pair, but having known each other since the beginning they have developed something of a friendship while waiting for armageddon. Armageddon will be heralded in when the antichrist turns 11. The duo, questioning orders from above and below, decide to prevent the end of the world. Except there’s only one problem–they’ve managed to misplace the antichrist. Time is running out and they have to find the child and come up with a plan to save the world, without getting caught by their superiors.

This book may be considered irreverent, but I’ve gotta admit it is a lot of fun. Turning heaven and hell into bureaucratic agencies and focusing on two boots-on-the-ground soldiers makes for a comedy surrounding the end of the world, while also making Aziraphale and Crowley relatable. After all, we’ve all probably encountered situations where “the plan” doesn’t seem to make much practical sense.

Readers like me will find them relating with both characters at different points. Sometimes Aziraphale’s inability to break the rules reminded me of myself, while at others Crowley’s sass and malicious mischief felt mildly reminiscent. Of course no one is really supposed to relate to a demon, but I think the point is that both of them spent so long on earth, so long around humans, that they began to experience a degree of humanity themselves, leading them to desire to save the world instead of participate in the great war between good and evil.

Good Omens the show followed the book exceptionally well (based on having listened to the full-cast production with the same actors), which is always a bonus for me. So many page-to-screen adaptations fall short of the source material.

All in all, it was a really fun book (and show). It’s upbeat and funny, reminding readers that you’ve always got a choice.

New Release Tuesday: Newsroom Confidential

Even though I don’t get to work very much in the field of journalism currently, it still has a place in my heart. It’s not perfect, it’s easy to get cynical about it, but it’s also quite misunderstood by many readers. Margaret Sullivan’s book, Newsroom Confidential, takes on some of those challenging questions and misunderstandings, offering a view from the journalist’s side that I hope many media consumers will read and consider.

Sullivan worked in the news industry for decades, both at local papers and national papers. She held a variety of roles, from reporter to columnist, from public editor to top editor roles. Coming of age with Woodward and Bernstein as role models, Sullivan has watched public trust in the news media steadily decline over the decades, until it’s reached an all-time low. As she considers all she knows about the field and the shortcomings of reporting over the years, Sullivan acknowledges that a solution isn’t particularly easy. Rebuilding trust and restoring journalism to a foundational role in democracy requires hard work and mind shifts within the field, but also within the minds of readers.

When I started this book, I wasn’t expecting it to take on the idea of public trust in the media. I was expecting something more of an anecdotal book telling stories and experiences from Sullivan’s career in journalism. And although it was a little disheartening to read her stark view of the state of the field now (which is undeniable, to be sure), Sullivan’s book also provides some hope. If nothing else, it serves as a reminder (or a news flash for readers, maybe) that the majority of journalists have good intentions of promoting truth to their readers. The waters have gotten muddy over the years, but with a few exceptions, most organizations aim to tell the truth, not propaganda.

Sullivan doesn’t pull any punches when highlighting some of the serious failings of journalistic institutions over the years, even ones she used to work for. Global news leaders who failed to apply appropriate skepticism and curiosity over big stories undermined journalism as a whole, leading to plummeting public trust in news media and a challenging pit to emerge from.

She also takes on the idea of objectivity, a topic that is fraught, to be sure. She says how she’s encountered readers who say, “I just want the news to give me the facts and let me decide.” I’ve definitely heard that before. And on the surface, it sounds OK. But, as Sullivan points out, that kind of definition is part of what has led to a false equality approach to all topics, even if it means offering the truth and a lie as equally acceptable “facts.”

Although she offers some ideas for how journalism can make a comeback, Sullivan’s book isn’t entirely, or even mostly, prescriptive. Instead, it gives readers a lot to think about. It’s a reminder to media consumers that journalists don’t check their humanity at the door, and that they are required to make some judgments in the name of presenting the truth. Most of us would agree that a story presenting the earth as a sphere and the earth as flat would be ridiculous. We’d lose some faith in the credibility of the organization that gave both ideas equal weight and attention. Yet, often this is exactly what readers claim they want, what they believe is “unbiased” and “objective” journalism.

Sullivan tackles a messy subject in this book. Many big news outlets have betrayed public trust by not doing due diligence. Readers then are wary of trusting what they read. It’s a vicious cycle that will take work to break and shows of good faith on both sides. Sullivan’s book overall is one that takes the view of hope.

For myself, this is a book I would recommend to people within and without the field. I’ve heard my fair share of complaints from family and friends about media objectivity and how they “just want the facts.” And I’ve also seen and experienced news that balances to unequal “viewpoints.” When journalists listen to what readers are concerned about and when readers understand how journalism is supposed to work, I think there’s room for productive and meaningful dialogue, and that’s where healing the disconnect begins.

Uprooted: An eastern European fairy tale

Naomi Novik is another author who has been on my TBR list for… a long time. I’ve thought about suggesting her to my book club a few times, but I try really hard to not make our book selections simply all the books and authors I’ve been meaning to read. As my season at the park has been winding down, I haven’t been going through audiobooks as much as before, but I’ve been trying to squeeze a couple more in before winter hits and I give them up again.

Uprooted opens on a small village close to the woods bordering two nations (essentially old Russia and Poland). Once every ten years, the Dragon comes to take one of the young girls. They don’t know how, but it helps him protect them from the woods. Agnieszka never expected to be taken, but she finds herself in the Dragon’s castle trying to avoid him as much as she can. But the dark magic that infests the wood won’t leave them alone, and as chaos and trouble start to bubble, Agnieszka finds there’s more to her–and the Dragon– than she ever suspected.

Very early on in this book I found myself thinking, “Agnieszka is really stupid.” Without giving too much away, let’s just suffice it to say that Novik made it really obvious to the readers what she was doing with Agnieszka and the Dragon, but Agnieszka remained painfully oblivious. (Also, I’m glad I listened and didn’t have to figure out pronunciation on my own. If you’re wondering, her names sounds like “agneshka.”)

I wanted so badly to like this book, but I’ve gotta be honest here and admit that I really don’t know what happened in the last quarter to third of the book. In the course of doing pretty mindless work, I still managed to lose the thread of the story several times. I know some of the highlights, but not the details of the ending. And I feel sad that it didn’t hold my attention the way I wanted it to.

That said, I really did enjoy the eastern European setting and feel. My guess is that Novik reimagined some fairy tale or other to form the basis of her story, and I really like that. It’s so easy to forget there are fairy tales beyond Grimm and Andersen.

In the end, I think it was mostly Agnieszka that sort of ruined the book for me. She was that blend of heroine who was at times all bluster and courage and other times all incompetence and volatile. While that may be a good mix for some readers, I generally can’t stand those characters. And when you can’t stand/can’t relate to the main character and narrator, it’s tough to get into the book.

I’m not going to cross all of Novik’s books off my TBR at this point, but I’m also not going to move them to the top, either. I’ll get to them if/when I get to them, and that’s OK.

New Release Tuesday: The Book of Boundaries

If you know me, or have gotten to know me in the last few years, you know that I am big on boundaries (not necessarily great at it, but a fan nonetheless). So even though a lot of boundary books repeat the same general information, it’s always good to get a reminder and refresher in learning to set them and why we need them.

In The Book of Boundaries, Melissa Urban lays out some of the most common areas and situations where we need boundaries. From spouses and significant others to parents and in-laws, employers and coworkers to boundaries with ourselves, Urban provides information and scripts for specific situations while also encouraging her readers to find the words and phrases that work best for them. She also encourages her readers to automate any and every boundary they can–from screen time limits on phones to automatic out-of-office replies on the weekend, anywhere we can make upholding the boundary effortless is a win.

As mentioned, when it comes to books on boundaries, most books share a large portion of similar content. The whys behind boundaries and the areas where we most need them are common to most of us. What sets Urban’s book apart from others that I’ve read (or that have touched on boundaries) is that she provides specific scripts for specific situations. And while readers don’t have to use those exact words, Urban encourages them to use the scripts verbatim is that is what works best for them.

Urban also talks about some of the areas where we long to set boundaries but can’t, because a boundary would essentially be trying to control someone else’s behavior. In these situations, Urban coaches readers on effective communication and taking ownership of our own wants and needs.

I suppose part of why I am drawn to books on boundaries is because I hope to absorb it all like osmosis and magically begin living a neatly boundaried life. That’s not exactly how it works, but maybe if I hear the messages enough they’ll bleed into my processes. If nothing else, continued reading will help keep boundaries at the forefront of my mind, so that I can draw on that knowledge when I need to set a boundary.

The Devil in the White City: A history of Chicago’s World Fair

True crime has never been my jam. I’ve read a few books here and there over the years, and while interesting they’ve never been enough to send me down that particular rabbit hole. But I decided to give Erik Larson’s The Devil in the White City a listen because I needed a new audiobook for work and that one was immediately available.

The book is a thoroughly researched history of Chicago’s World Fair in the late 1890s. It’s also the story of H.H. Holmes, a serial killer who preyed on young women throughout Chicago (and beyond) during the fair’s construction and duration. Although it wasn’t the fair that drew Holmes to Chicago, it provided him with ample opportunity to act on his impulses. Holmes built and owned several buildings in Chicago, each with the purpose of facilitating murder when it struck his fancy. And with so many young people traveling to Chicago for the fair, Holmes had a nearly endless supply of unknown and unsuspecting victims on hand.

This book has been a best seller for ages, and will continue to be as it’s in development for a TV show now. But I personally didn’t find it super engaging. It was torn between being a history of the fair and a biography of Holmes, and it didn’t fully accomplish either. Part of my challenge, I think, was listening to it. When a book is densely researched, as this one was, I don’t absorb all the information. So when a passing character is mentioned I may not remember who they are or why they matter (I found myself running into this a couple times).

I can tell that Larson did a lot of research. He appeared to have consulted various primary documents relevant to key characters in the narrative. He had full histories of them as well. I just didn’t find it easy to consume, at least in audio form. The hopping back and forth between two related but drastically different stories kept me from fully sinking into either one– and either one would have been good on its own.

Personally, I felt like this book is more the story of the world fair than the murders. The amount of time dedicated to each narrative is unbalanced, leaning heavily in favor of the fair’s history.

In the end, I can see why this book was picked up for TV. And I think it might work really well in that medium. And I may have enjoyed the book a little more had I read it instead of listening to it. But at the end of the day, I still feel like Larson could have tightened up his narrative and better focused in on the story he wanted to tell, instead of trying to tell all the related stories at the same time.