Reviews and Comments

Commercial surrogacy is not a radical, qualitative change in modes of reproduction, since children are already treated to some extent as commodities and, crucially reproductive labour is already unfairly distributed, among genders, classes, races and geographies. Two implications follows: first, commercial surrogacy is wrong only in the sense that is an acute manifestation of broader problems; second, we should treat surrogacy as work, e.g. alienated labour: "I am sympathetic to the impulse, in that the advancing frontier of commodification elicits, in so many of us, a form of recoil that feels almost beyond words. I think I get it. We refuse the concept that the most precious things should be for sale, as though that will change the reality that—exploitatively, yet consensually—they are".

Where I felt the book falls short, or maybe just irritates me, is in the righteous take down of diverging positions, especially since it comes from a self-defined utopian manifesto that can allow itself to smooth over practical difficulties within its vision and tensions or contradictions within its argument. Lewis attacks liberal feminists for its blindness to class issues in the surrogacy business model (rightly!), attacks what she defines as surrogacy-exclusionary feminism (without really giving a satisfying account of their arguments which may not be the point of this particular book but would have been interesting). And finally, she attacks those who attacks the customers of surrogacy as moralist, while at the same time most of the book present those same customers as having drunk the koolaid of reproductional capitalism and reaping the advantages of their class privilege. So, basically, 'they' are all wrong, regardless of where they stand on this issue; even if Lewis agrees with them, she charges them of thinking the right thing of the wrong reasons. She attacks attacks attacks without conceding any ground, any area where her vision or arguments may be prone to appropriation or be weak or harmful, which is only possible because both vision and argument are intentionally vague. Ultimately, the reflection around surrogacy becomes a basis to call for a rethinking of family, again, on similar lines as Haraway: "For if babies were universally thought of as anybody and everybody’s responsibility, “belonging” to nobody, surrogacy would generate no profits. Would it even be “surrogacy” at this point? Wouldn’t the question then simply be: how can babymaking best be distributed and made to realize collective needs and desires?".

A short, enjoyable book about graphic design for the communication of (statistical) information. It is easy to get nostalgic for these "simpler" times when bias and distortion were thought as the main threats to truth. Tuften is a minimalist, and his principles are good to keep in mind, even if he can veer towards the austere. He probably would argue that when the data is interesting there is no need to spice it up, when the data isn't interesting there is no point in spicing it up.

The book offers some key principle for graphic integrity: maintain proportions between dimensions on paper and numbers; be generous with labelling; show data variations, do not vary design for aesthetic purposes; in time series with monetary values, account for inflation; associate every size-changing dimension to a variable (e.g. if a variable represented by rectangles doubles, only double either the width or the height); give context to interpret the data.

His theory of data graphics: Data ink is the ink that carries information. One should aim maximize the proportion of data ink to non-data ink, within reason.

The Kreutzer Sonata is such a mind-bending story. I vaguely remember my high-school teacher citing it as a must-read, and retrospectively I cannot help but think: what the actual fuck.

I won't argue with the style (fantastic, gripping) and, sure, the book is full of deep thoughts, existential angst and moral theories about 'man', i.e. the hallmarks of great (straight, white, male) literature. But can we just stop to think about the plot for a second:

Man grows up behaving like a lad, visiting brothels and seducing married women. Man decides it is time to marry, picks young attractive gentlewoman. Man is disappointed because she is not a sex goddess the first time they sleep together. Marriage deteriorates because of lack of communication and shared interests. Sex is occasionally good, but always followed by arguments. The only thing that gives Man some satisfaction is reproducing (though Man blames wife for loving children too much - specifically for loving their bodies as well as their souls). Doctor orders wife to stop breastfeeding for health-related reasons, Man is disgusted. Doctor prescribes wife anti-conceptional, Man decides marriage no longer has a point. As wife's health improves, she looks more beautiful. Man is disgusted by this fact, Man starts beating wife because irritated by her demeanor. Man begins having attacks of groundless jealousy. Wife begins taking piano lessons, encouraged by Man. Man becomes jealous of piano teacher. Man surprises piano teacher and wife having dinner together during his absence. Man kills wife. Man blames moral corruption of youth for his moral corruption. The cure: abstinence for both genders, including after marrying.

In the postscript, author confirms he actually shares Man's conclusion. Wikipedia informs us author had 13 legitimate children, and at least an illegitimate one.

The other stories are variations on the theme of: rural life and poverty (though, thank god, not starvation) are virtuous - we (Russian aristocrats) should do it more often.

After starting and failing to read to an end five different fiction books, seven in total (lockdown, work stress, general restlessness), I took a stab at this one. Admittedly, it is just over 100 pages, but I started at 8am and by 12 I was finished, with a break in between for breakfast.

A family escaped from the DDR. The mum and two teenage kids are waiting for the dad to come back from a business trip - ready to celebrate his promotion with a mussel feast. The time passes, but the dad does't arrive - and the more he's late, the more we learn about him; the more we learn about him the less we like him: tyrannical, unsympathetic, arrogant, abusive, even violent.

At breakfast, T and I argued over how to interpret it. She remembered reading it's supposed to be a critique of the West, or the East, or an allegory, East vs West. Judging by the author's quote on the publisher's site, it is the story of a revolution: ‘I wrote this book in August 1989, just before the Fall of the Berlin Wall. I wanted to understand how revolutions start. It seemed logical to use the figure of a tyrannical father and turn the story into a German family saga.’ It's also 'just' a family portrait: convincing, detailed, heart-breaking.

I loved this one. A novel that reads like a memoir (I thought it was), about a woman taking care of the dog of a friend who has killed himself. On the one hand there is the love story between her and the dog, the getting to know and trust each other, their growing dependent on one another. On the other, the one between her and the dead friend: not quite a romance, but affection, admiration, respect, sexual tension.

Grief, love relationship and writing are the three main themes. As she overhears at the memorial, her friend is now another dead straight white man, a womanizing and non PC one at that. It is implied that one of the reasons he killed himself is that he felt the chasm between him and today's intellectual climate had grown too wide: in a world where people want to read 'politically constructive' stories from 'the oppressed', what place is there for the historical writer - relatively privileged, often morally reprehensible, not too concerned about offending people? It could be a very annoying line of thinking, but because the narrator herself is not fully on board (a progressive woman, concerned about who should she write about and for, aware of her privilege...) it is easier to listen to. I'm not making much sense, and maybe it doesn't matter, I think the main reason I liked the book is her soothing tone, erudite but full of humor and, above all, love and sadness for the loss of two loves.

Not really a mystery novel, but a sort of choral intrigue. The story revolves around a financial fraud, a Ponzi scheme to be precise, orchestrated by Jonathan Alkaitis, who took money from investors and used it to maintain the appeareance of high returns while actually not investing in anything, which I believe is the definition of a Ponzi scheme. The book explores the perspective of many of those involved: large, rich investors, smaller, midlle-class investors, complicit colleagues, their wives and husbands, Alkaitis himself and, at the centre of all, Vincent, Alkaitis pretend trophy wife, a charming but-lost young woman that comes dangerously close to a stereotype (perhaps my main criticism of the book). The novel is well written and does a very good job of keeping you hooked, weaving together all the different threads to build a very complex picture but without resulting difficult to follow. It has also a certain depth, in that it explores the question of responsibility, in the sense that all the characters are responsible for something: doing the wrong thing, not doing the right thing, pretend not to know what they are doing, getting someone else to do the wrong thing...

The book's narrator is a single mum, abandoned by her husband but nevertheless held responsible for wanting a divorce, for not welcoming here ex's wishes to father their daughter without contributing to supporting her or taking care of her. It is a very moving portrait because neither the mum nor the daughter correspond to ideal types. The mum is exhausted, seeks comfort in casual sex and drunkenness, sometimes cannot find the force to get out of bed and yells at her kid for having needs. Her daughter ( I am not sure we learn her name?) is often grumpy, clearly distressed by the rough break up if her family, wets herself, craves time with her friends' parents who can offer more stability. A cute, imperfect, realistic duo.

If single mothers and children are often portrayed in very stark terms (victims/irresponsible/sluts - victims, innocent, helpless), the book restitutes them complexity through details: the joy of jointly splashing into rain puddles, irascible hang over mornings, the changing of peed-on sheets in the middle of the night, the relatable cruelty of refusing to change peed-on sheets in the middle of the night.

After transitioning, Thomas undergoes a new gender-identity crisis, as he realizes that some of the 'masculine' behaviors he adopted as a lesbian and/or non-binary person take on different meanings, and have different effects, now that he passes as a man. Many of these behaviours used to help him to demonstrate competence and assertiveness, which are things he no longer needs to work as hard for. In other words, some things that seem integral part of the 'man package' do not appeal to him at all.

Encouraged by his partner, Thomas decide to explore this dark side of masculinity by tackling it heads on, and signing up for a charity boxing event. This environment interestingly brings together two toxic sides of masculinity: the physical violence for which certain working-class men of colour are trained (Tyson towering over the book as a tragic example), and the social violence of the Wall Street type that most often joins this kind of scheme, taking clients to boxing gyms the same way in the 1980s they would have taken them to do coke (sic).

The account of his experience is interspersed with bits of information from social science books and interviews with experts on masculinity, which I didn't think added much. For me, the strength of the book lies in Thomas' desire to engage and see the humanity and tenderness in the macho men he encounters.

For background, like many readers of this book, I'm a great fan of Josie Long as a comedian. I find her standup funny, and her politics good and genuine. I first saw her performing around 2014 at a benefit show for an anti-eviction campaign in East London, and have nurtured my friend crush ever since. Contrary to many celebrities and comedians' books, this is the book of someone who approaches writing as its own thing, and aspires to be taken at face value as a writer. By which I mean: the stories here are not merely a different format for her standup, which is a brave thing to do. They allow readers to see a different (but coherent) side of her.

Some of the stories read like well-observed vignettes. I'm not sure if that was intentional, or if maybe they needed some more developing to have a full narrative arch. The fact that I'm not sure is probably not a good sign. At several points, though, the book 'changes gear', offering some truly excellent stories. Some of my favourites:

2021, 20/21 - A survivor of an abusive relationship is forced to interact with her abuser, who has moved in her neighborhood with his family. Twenty years after the break-up, she can finally see the abuse for what it was, but still feels the irresistible urge to know what is going on in his life, and that of his new partner. The not-quite-irrational anxiety at the the thought she may meet him at any point, the conflicting feelings of hoping his new relationship doesn't follow the same pattern, but also not wishing him to be happy... Poets rise - A black-mirror-esque story about a woman working for a surveillance / sabotage agency that targets left-wing people, trying to break down their spirit to prevent them to engage in activism. (the next time I forget my phone code, I'll know who to blame). Poets rise again - A funny-sad story about scammers getting scammed, that is mostly about how class-based societies are the real scam. (Only now do I notice these two stories form a series).