When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamín Labatut, translated by Adrian Nathan West

5/5 STARS

What’s it about? Though When We Cease to Understand the World defies easy description, think of it as a treatise about the responsibility of discovery and the cost of our species’ relentless pursuit of knowledge. Labatut takes on this theme through accounts of Fritz Haber, Karl Schwarzschild, Werner Heisenberg, Erwin Schrödinger, and other luminaries as they redefined their disciplines, be it quantum physics or mathematics. Running through the book is an undercurrent of dread as scientific breakthroughs inevitably become tools of war.

How’d I find it? Shout out to Enoch Pratt Free Library for always having the hot titles available. I strolled in to pick up a hold and there this was, waiting.

Who will enjoy this book? When We Cease to Understand the World felt like a book by Milan Kundera, one of my all-time most beloved authors. Labatut’s blend of fiction and history, use of humor, and the slipperiness of madness and obsession hearken back to the Czech master. Fans of Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer will also enjoy.

What stood out? Hot damn, this is a good one. Labatut picks apart the insularity of academic research by visiting great minds at work in the battlefields of World War I or at a sanatorium among convalescing patients, settings that highlight the loneliness and mania of genius. The blurry line between fact and fiction keeps the reader unsettled, uncertain — thoroughly effective in a book that feels like a warning.

Which line made me feel something? From the section “Prussian Blue:” “An ingredient in Dippel’s elixir would eventually produce the blue that shines not only in Van Gogh’s Starry Night and in the waters of Hokusai’s Great Wave, but also on the uniforms of the infantryman of the Prussian army, as though something in the colour’s chemical structure invoked violence: a fault, a shadow, an existential stain passed down from those experiments in which the alchemist dismembered living animals to create it”

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson

5/5 stars

What's it about? Anne Carson reimagines the myth of Geryon, a giant felled by the Greek hero Heracles, who steals Geryon’s cattle as one of the labors imposed upon him by the gods. Is this relevant to your reading? Not really, but it would be a shame to spoil any bit of this devastating novel in verse about love, longing, monsters, mothers, and seeing, so that’s all the context you’ll get. A masterful modern retelling.

How’d I find it? A Northeast Library book sale in DC scored me this read.

Who will enjoy this book? Autobiography of Red is a sumptuous treat for those who revel in ingenuity of form and lustrous language. Readers who loved Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, Ocean Vuong (particularly On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous), and Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad will appreciate.

What stood out? I was admittedly skeptical about this book, as I didn’t enjoy Carson’s Plainwater (I know, I know). But the knockout language of Autobiography of Red left me breathless. I can’t wait to read this book again and discover what new pangs the words inflict. Buy this book, revisit it, underline heavily. Never have chapter titles done such rich lifting.

Which line made me feel something? I’ll be chewing on this book for days (pity on whatever I read next), but this line in particular from the chapter “From the Archaic to the Fast Self” has me thinking: “Like the terrestrial crust of the earth / which is proportionately ten times thinner than an eggshell, the skin of the soul / is a miracle of mutual pressures.”

Ghostways: Two Journeys in Unquiet Places by Robert Macfarlane

4/5 stars

What's it about? An exploration of two spaces that unsettle and lure the spirit: a strip of land off the coast of England that hosted nuclear tests and a forgotten valley thoroughfare. In "Ness," Macfarlane fashions a harrowing tale of encroachment, while "Holloway" chronicles friends as they hunt for a passage using instructions from a novel.

How’d I find it? I selected this book during a weekend browse at Bridge Street Books.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of Roger Deakin, Leanne Shapton, and Rob Cowen's Common Ground

What stood out? The writing is poetic and textured, and the lovely use of illustration and white space allow the reader to soak in the language before moving to the next page of prose. While the two tales differ greatly ("Ness" is certainly more didactic), they complement each other and pair for a delightful read.

Which line made me feel something? From "Holloway:" "...the landscape's pasts felt excitingly alive & coexistent, as if history had pleated back on itself"

Bluets by Maggie Nelson

5/5 stars

What's it about? Maggie Nelson plumbs the depths of her obsession with blue, of color itself, and of grief over a lost love in a knockout work that defies genre. The result is reflection rendered, a meditation of a book that succeeds in creating an immersive mood, a mind state.

How’d I find it? I was late to work, hustling down the sidewalk after finding a hard-fought parking space, and passed a Little Free Library. Well, I didn’t pass it at all. I found this.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of Anne Carson's Autobiography of Red, William Carlos Williams, and Emmanuel Carrère's Lives Other Than My Own

What stood out? What a book. A slice of brilliance that had just the desired effect: a tickle in the brain that had me mulling over the words like a worry stone. The numbered paragraphs (verses?) are peppered with references to works I want to read immediately.

Which line made me feel something? “...the blue of the sky depends on the darkness of empty space behind it. As one optics journal puts it, ‘The color of any planetary atmosphere viewed against the black of space and illuminated by a sunlike star will also be blue.’ In which case blue is something of an ecstatic accident produced by void and fire.”