Holly Witteman

I recently began reading for pleasure again when I realized that denying myself one of my deepest pleasures for so long had ceased to help my productivity. Rather the opposite, in fact. Also, I took a long overdue unplugged holiday over the Christmas break and I recently contracted pneumonia again, both of which offered opportunities for more reading. (The former was a much more pleasant set of opportunities than the latter.)

Some very brief, off-the-cuff reviews:

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson

I really enjoyed this book. The writing was quite good — occasionally a little awkward, but I think that was a reflection of the occasionally disjointed nature of the story. My primary enjoyment of this book was rooted in how well it aligned with my own ideals and experiences of what really works in international development. Bottom line: 4/5 stars.

The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill

I finished this book in a day a half over the holidays. Thank goodness there were grandparents around so that my husband didn’t have to pick up ALL of the child care responsibilities I was neglecting. This was one of the most captivating, engaging, horrifying and illuminating books I have read in a long while. Hill set the story amid many extremely familiar historical events and details, and yet somehow managed to tell a story that felt raw and new. The only quibble I have with the book is that the ending is a little unrealistic. (Satisfying, but unrealistic.) As a woman and mother, this book made me bawl. I was pleased to see it win Canada Reads this year. Bottom line: 5/5 stars.

Things I Learned About My Dad in Therapy, edited by Heather Armstrong

I wanted to love this book. I didn’t. As previously mentioned, I love creative nonfiction and books of personal essays. Also, I have followed dooce.com (Armstrong’s blog) on and off since 2001, so I had high hopes. Unfortunately, this book of collected essays doesn’t live up to the standards for humour and perceptiveness she sets in her own writing. Some essays are good, some are significantly less than good. I gave up on reading a few of them. The overall result is mediocre, like when you mix together all sorts of brilliant and less brilliant paints to achieve a sort of odd, unnatural, muddy colour vaguely reminiscent of baby poop. On the plus side, I look forward to trying again when her solo book comes out. Bottom line: 3/5 stars.