A French journalist creates an online identity to talk to jihadists, but unwittingly attracts the attention of a crazed ISIS fighter? Sign me up! I'veA French journalist creates an online identity to talk to jihadists, but unwittingly attracts the attention of a crazed ISIS fighter? Sign me up! I've stalked those ISIS idiots on Twitter for more years than I care to admit, and non-fiction about crappy countries is totally my thing. This book should be right up my alley! Right?
Sigh. Goddammit.
In the Skin of a Jihadist is just an extended version of Anna Erelle's NY Times/Daily Mail/Guardian articles promoting her book. If you've read any of those--hell, even if you just skimmed a summary on Buzzfeed--voila!, you've got the entire story. You can skip the book, because in 240 pages, there's not one detail that Erelle hasn't already published online.
Well, that's irritating.
But In the Skin of a Jihadist has bigger problems than being a longform version of Erelle's old web articles. The real issue is that despite its intriguing premise, this book is boring. (I survived Critical Theory in grad school, so "boring" isn't a word I toss around lightly). It's so lifeless that it damn near rivals Waiting for Godot/Moby Dick/anything by Jane Austen or Alessandro Manzoni, etc. as the dullest sh!t in print.
A contemporary book so monotonous that it sparks flashbacks of the bad classics?
Yikes. And it gets worse.
I get that Erelle is a journalist who wants to be taken seriously. I also get that she wants her subject matter to be taken seriously. But when you invent a fake identity to pursue a story, there goes my ability to consider you a serious journalist. As for the story itself? Catfishing some waste-of-life pussy ISIS fighter? Meh. I think I saw that on MTV once.
With her dubious professional ethics, near-zero credibility as a journalist, and a flimsy story, Erelle had nothing to lose when she started writing this. She could have written anything. Why she didn't drop the journalism shtick and focus on breathing life into her corpse of a book is beyond me. But no, she stuck to the (not very exciting) facts and called it good.
Lame.
Come on, Anna! Where's your creativity? I've got a couple of ideas to make your book less of a chore to read. See if you can work these in by the time the second edition rolls out:
Tell the real truth: You know what I mean. Spill it. Was the ISIS guy hot? Were you ever attracted to him? Were there any late night phone calls that your boyfriend didn't know about? Speaking of your boyfriend, he sounds hot. Can you tell us more about him, other than the fact that he sits in the corner brooding? Thx.
Embellish: As noted above, your professional integrity went out the window when you created a fake identity. You're no different than those of us who Twitter-stalk these assholes behind a fake avatar image, so we really only half believe you anyway. Well, run with it! Tell us some sweet little lies and liven up this party! Say you were toying with the idea of converting to Islam but a new-found love for Scientology stopped you. Say that you actually catfished 5 ISIS fighters, 2 of their wives, 1 of their slaves, and a few of their sheep. Describe your pet unicorn. Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just make something up! If it's interesting, we'll pretend we believe it.
Criticize someone, anyone, anything, for fuck's sake! Why be objective when you can engage readers with your opinions about the situation you created with your ISIS bachelor? There's already , so why the fear of stirring the pot? Go ahead, tell us why you think Islam sucks -- we can handle it. Or tell us how ISIS fighters think they're tough shit, but compared to the hotties in the Légion Étrangère or the Japanese during the Rape of Nanking, they're really just a bunch of whiny little girls. Better yet, make fun of your terrorist beau for being a fucking moron. Come on, tell us how in the hell a 38 year-old was dumb enough to be fooled by your fake identity, and then mock the hell out of him! I mean, being catfished when you're old enough to remember Prodigy and AOL? HAHAHAH!! DUMBASS!! LOL! (See how easy it is, Anna?) Voice an opinion! Just do something! And make it count.
Add some personality. How about French-ifying the text a little? You know, call the ISIS fucker a tête à claques, drop a few meaningless Foucault and Sartre quotes, and remind us of the superiority of France as you blow smoke in our faces with disdain. (God I love French people). See? I like your book better already.
Revise the "purpose." Yeah, yeah, yeah, your selling point is that your fake identity gave you precious insight into how ISIS manages to lure young European women to Syria. But come on, that's about the lamest attempt of all to legitimize your book. Yes, it's shocking when seemingly normal girls disappear from their comfortable lives, only to pop up on Twitter in a niqab, married to a hairy stranger, and posing with Kalashnikovs in war-torn Raqqa. But "How does it happen?" Come on, really? Um. It's called brainwashing, and teenagers are the easiest targets. It's not complicated: teenagers are vulnerable, they long for a sense of purpose, they romanticize dumb things, and they make stupid decisions. And when their parents give them unfettered access to a device that connects them with the world... Well, gee, what could go wrong? When you're 15 and the hot ISIS fighter you met on Twitter tells you that you're "different" and "special," that means something. When that same stud tells you'll get to fire guns learn self-defense, be a sex slave get married in the lawless totally safe caliphate, and bring up the next generation of Muslims...that sounds rad. And when the hot stranger packages it all as a sacred mission that guarantees a spot in heaven? Holy sense of purpose, Batman! That's way cooler than sitting through 10th grade chemistry! Something tells me you already knew this, Anna.
Find better material. When it really comes down to it, I don't care about some dumbass jihadist in Iraq. Call me when a bomb falls on his head. Or not. I don't care. This whole war thing has been going on, ad nauseam, since the beginning of time, and there's absolutely nothing new or noteworthy about ISIS...well, other than their propensity for blowing themselves up in their quest for world domination, but you can't expect a Milennial terrorist to know that "No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. You win by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country." But even laughing at ISIS gets old. If you really want to get my attention, use your fake identity something interesting. Infiltrate a group of young French women planning to move to Syria, and give us the scoop on what hell they're thinking. Or, trick a local imam into dating you and tell us what happens. Better yet, see if you can become 2nd wife to that ass-clown and write a salacious tell-all. Or, if Anjem doesn't pan out, become wife #4 to some devout Muslim/secret polygamist living in Paris and let us know how it goes.
See what I'm getting at here?
Save the dry reporting for your articles. You're hardly a journalist in the book, so give us the goddamn goods or go home.
It's taken me 6 months to process what I've read here.
Some thoughts/disclaimers before I even start:
--I've been deleting ARC offers from publishers fo It's taken me 6 months to process what I've read here.
Some thoughts/disclaimers before I even start:
--I've been deleting ARC offers from publishers for years; this is the only one I've ever accepted (don't ask why, it's a long story)
--I can never fairly review anything this chick has written, given that my review of Betancourt's memoir was a colossal f*ck up, and given that meeting her in person had me do a complete 180
--I hate fiction, and I particularly loathe historical fiction about eras of human tragedy. I also have a special hatred for magic realism.
--Not only does this book have everything I can't stand--historical fiction and magic realism--it also covers a historical period that makes me want to vomit: there was something especially evil about the Dirty War. The messy torture, killing and disappearing of 20-somethings for having the wrong political views, and kidnapping their newborns and passing them off as the children of military families? It makes the clean, systematic extirmination during the Holocuast seem more merciful in some ways. I'd rather read 20 Holocaust novels than 1 about the Dirty War -- that's how badly I hate this topic.
--I was able to get around the hatred for historical fiction/magic realism/the Dirty War for a couple of reasons. 1) I fell for the bullshit non-analysis factor of "seeing yourself" in the story: the characters in the story frequent my old stomping grounds in Connecticut and NYC, down to my old block and the church next door to my building on W. 14th Street in Manhattan; the single mother's relationship with her son probably got me, too, especially the mother happening to hear a child psychologist on the radio. Freaky shit coincidences, total non-analysis, but it kept me going. 2) I figured out early on what the author is doing -- I'm guessing her intent here isn't to have you curl up with a book and be a passive reader. I think it's pretty obvious that there's something else, something way larger and profound going on between the lines here.
--I didn't hate this book at all. In fact, I loved it and respect what (I think) Betancourt has done. She may have been a politician, but there's no question that this chick is a writer, 100%. And a damn good one.
--I think a lot of this book's lukewarm reviews on GR are from people who haven't had an analytical thought since 9th grade English. I may have to rip into those people a little, but I'll try to be nice-ish...
But I'll get to that later...
Review coming...just need a few more days to organize my thoughts.
Author Julia Powell is a mix of many people. From page one, when she tells us she sold her own eggs to pay off credit debt, she is much like the dreadAuthor Julia Powell is a mix of many people. From page one, when she tells us she sold her own eggs to pay off credit debt, she is much like the dreaded person seated next to you on a long-haul flight that proceeds to tell you their life story in a matter of minutes. She is also the TMI girl that we all know, whose narrative describes the smell of her burps and piss, bitches incessantly about her job and Republicans, describes smelly cocks, drinks too many cocktails, tells us she sleeps with her face on her husband's ass, says fuck every other word and undoubtedly finds herself witty and funny while being oblivious to the gaping jaws and cringes of those around her. She smacks and insults her loving and patient husband while contemplating cheating on him and living vicariously through her slutty friends, both single and married. (I smell a divorce cooking.)
In short, she is the loud girl we all wish would shut the fuck up.
She also started a year-long cooking/blog project -- an idea given to her and set up by the very husband she treats like garbage -- to cook every recipe from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She proceeds to alter and screw up recipes, partly due to their difficulty, partly due to her bad planning, and mostly due to her own stupidity: i.e., boning a fowl isn't that difficult so stop stressing about it; why don't you try asking the butcher if he can slice the bone marrow for you instead of trying it yourself and making a disgusting mess?; please don't tell us about getting lobster meat out with a tweezer. We are, of course, supposed to laugh at this and find it all funny. Ha. Ha.
As she embarked on this culinary journey, I couldn't help but remember that she'd mentioned having three cats and a python, and being disgusted that this was the environment in which she'd be cooking. But no worries. She will of course tell us about the cat hair in the kitchen and in the food, along with the dead mice for her snake shoved in the same bag as her cooking ingredients. And the vegetables falling on the rotted out kitchen floor, which she naturally picks up and throws into the pot. And the flies in her kitchen. That lead her to find the maggots. In her kitchen. Yummy.
Julie ends up getting lots of media attention, a big blog following, a book/movie deal out of the whole thing. An ignorant reader like myself gains a new appreciation for the complexity of Julia Child's recipes and something like (but not quite) admiration for the author actually going through with cooking every recipe in the book.
This will not go on my "sucked" shelf, as is certainly didn't suck. I give it one star for being very readable and for being a somewhat touching story of how one nobody became somebody all by herself. I simply didn't like her tone. I just couldn't take it.
I hear she has a sequel coming out next month, this time about being a butcher. Would I read it? Absolutely. Not because I want to read about her mutilating dead animals and describing even more bodily functions we don't need to know about. Really, I'm dying to know if she divorces that kind husband who was by her side the whole time. I'm betting she did....more
Every time I finish a Charlotte Bronte novel, my heart pounds and my mind is disoriented. After reaching the end of her stories, closing her pages forEvery time I finish a Charlotte Bronte novel, my heart pounds and my mind is disoriented. After reaching the end of her stories, closing her pages for the last time, and remembering the long passages written out in long-hand, it's all like slowly surfacing from the depths of another world, and you're back home in reality, not quite sure you want to be there.
Although it doesn't have the exquisite tragedy of Villette or the kick-ass karate-chop combos of romance, ghosts, crazy ladies in the attic, religious nut-jobs, and true love found in Jane Eyre,The Professor is still one hell of a novel.
Its themes are common to Bronte's novels: Catholic wickedness (aka, “Romish wizardcraft� in this book -- HAHAHA!), relationships among the different social classes, social-restraint, and independence. Illustrating these themes are our upright, plain, poor, and virtuous narrator and his love interest, who are contrasted by the so-goddamn-evil-i-love-her Zoraide Reuter and her equally two-faced and back stabbing boyfriend, M. Pelet.
In many ways inferior to Jane Eyre, and in many other ways a "rough draft" of Villette, this novel is probably not the author's best. But I loved it. Why? Because Charlotte Brtone wrote it.
Bronte famously wrote that Jane Austen's writing was like "a carefully fenced, highly cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers: but no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh air, no blue hill, no bonny beck ... rather, comprehensive, measured, balanced, certainly “highly cultivated.”�
What is Bronte then? Her writing is wild, like weeds, growing out of control and wrapping around you eyes, heart, and mind, but she planted those weeds and cultivated them just as carefully as Austen cultivated her garden -- but with more skill. Bronte gets you in a snare from which you cannot break free. Her words, her writing, her storytelling are all overpowering in their savageness. When you try to release yourself (it's called putting the book down) you'll find your heart beating from the rapid ride that she has taken you on ... and you want to jump right back in.
Seriously, I love this woman. Favorite writer EVER!!...more
Bauby was the editor of the French Elle magazine, but then he suffered a massive stroke that left him paralyzed and speechless except for the ability Bauby was the editor of the French Elle magazine, but then he suffered a massive stroke that left him paralyzed and speechless except for the ability to blink his left eye. He dictated this book by blinking his eye.
I found this book remarkably moving and sad. While I read the author's emotional accounts of his life, and how it feels to simply be a body trapped in a mind, I kept getting distracted and was unable to concentrate ... why had they saved him? Why not let him die? This poor bastard is stuck in a body, unable to talk, breathe, eat, hear properly, and yet, when he was dying of the stroke, why did they save him?
He died two days after the book was published in France, which I find to be a relief ... he's finally free and at peace.
I would say read this book if you want, but it's really sad and won't exactly be uplifting....more
This wasn't bad. I think you just have to be French (of have some understanding of French culture/mentality) to get it.
I have neither, so I found it This wasn't bad. I think you just have to be French (of have some understanding of French culture/mentality) to get it.
I have neither, so I found it to be psuedo-deep/self-centered/angsty/incomplete/dull. What pisses me off more is the reviews that even DARE to compare her to the American great, Dorothy Parker. UH. DON'T. GO. THERE.
1) I have French friends and have no idea what the hell they're thinking 2)I have an infatuation with French men and have noI bought this book because:
1) I have French friends and have no idea what the hell they're thinking 2)I have an infatuation with French men and have no idea what the hell they're thinking 3)I am slowly being seduced by all things French and have no idea what the hell I'm thinking
The French mentality is so fascinating to me because I don't understand it beyond what seems like a mix of class, snobbery, and something alluring.
This book is a funny, quick read, but the author forgets one crucial fact: for everything he bitches about sucking in France, one must remember that in Italy, things are a hundred times worse. Someone should write a book about that. ...more
The constant hangover that my summer has been has really left me too stupid to finish this now ... but I'll get to the end because this book friggin rThe constant hangover that my summer has been has really left me too stupid to finish this now ... but I'll get to the end because this book friggin rocks.
***UPDATED***: This book is totally not summer reading ... I just finished it last month. Although I prefer the story of Jane Eyre, Vilette is by far a better book as far as style and prose. An absolute must read, one of the best books I've ever read ....
Dammit. When a book is good, I actually don't have anything else to say except read the damn thing. ...more
I bought this book on my visit home to the USA, thinking it was a book about French culture.
It's totally a self-help book for someone who idealizes PI bought this book on my visit home to the USA, thinking it was a book about French culture.
It's totally a self-help book for someone who idealizes Paris ... but it's actually cute. There are some awesome film recommendations, cool advice about the use of bright colors, and lots of hints on some great books. The author uses a lot of Edith Wharton's personal quotes about France, which is interesting.
Anyway, haven't read it. It's good to poke through if you're bored. :)...more
So I picked this up in America because I wanted to read about Europe (France, in particular) while I was there. What can I say? Euro-trash soap opera So I picked this up in America because I wanted to read about Europe (France, in particular) while I was there. What can I say? Euro-trash soap opera sums it up nicely. This is yet another 500-pager that left me wondering why it wasn't cut down to a nice, clean 250 pages. Cut out the numerous food descriptions, the over-done, unnecessary, and dry descriptions of the character's clothes and jewels, and you're halfway there.
The first 200 pages were dull, but I kept reading for the simple reason that I wanted my 13 bucks worth. Around page 250, the story starts to get interesting. Slightly. Enough to motivate me to keep reading. The end was trite, melodramatic, and stupid ... I've read better endings by Harlequin writers, for Chrissakes.
To the author's credit, there was a jaw-dropping plot twist and a touching love story that grew from one character's transformation. Other than that, the book was trash, not even worthy of beach-reading.
The characters were flat. The writing is boring and patronizing, if not just bad. I couldn't stand how the author was used the same repetitive adjectives to describe two completely different characters: this is not a literay device, this is just sloppiness from the writer and the editor (who probably fell asleep on the job hundreds of pages of ago.) Metaphors sucked. Nothing original here at all.
The story could have had potential, though ... too bad a better writer didn't come up with the idea.
La Petite Américaine
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