DNF due to the health scare(s) both she and her husband experience at the beginning of the book. Even though I knew they were okay, it was too much toDNF due to the health scare(s) both she and her husband experience at the beginning of the book. Even though I knew they were okay, it was too much to relive in the moment, my own recent family health scares too fresh. I skimmed ahead to see if I could just skip that part, but multiple other chapters failed to grab me. Love the concept; the execution feels NPR-ish and banal....more
DNF with prejudice. For the way this topped all the end-of-year best-of lists, you’d think it would be more than naval-gazing faux-buddhist pseudo-phiDNF with prejudice. For the way this topped all the end-of-year best-of lists, you’d think it would be more than naval-gazing faux-buddhist pseudo-philosophical twaddle. ...more
When I grabbed the ARC of this, I figured I’d skim to get the gist on a subject I find interesting, guided by either a jaded skeptic or true believer.When I grabbed the ARC of this, I figured I’d skim to get the gist on a subject I find interesting, guided by either a jaded skeptic or true believer.
Instead, I got neither. Or both. Both, and so much more. I read it cover to cover, and while it’s ostensibly about the wild world of psychedelics and the medicinal application thereof, it’s really about trauma and healing and faith and abuse and the universal need for belonging. Londoño is by turn both the skeptic and believer, sometimes within the same page. A skepticism full of empathy; a belief full of nuance and doubt.
It struck me how much all these individual experiences of psychedelics reflect the individual experiences of religion. On one hand, you can have powerful transformation and deep healing; on the other, it’s a field rife with abusive and predatory behavior, full of quacks and craven capitalism, exploiting the most vulnerable. A tool that’s neutral in itself, but wielded for great good or great harm.
Londoño keeps himself on the page, an active participant in the story as he peels back the layers of damage in his own life. Everything from childhood trauma and violence (growing up in war-torn Colombia in the 80’s and 90’s; coming out as a gay man), to mental illness and depression (inherited and otherwise), to battlefield PTSD (a war correspondent on the ground in Baghdad during the height of the invasion).
In fact, he’s uniquely positioned to question the ethics of the “silver bullet” fix, such as the grotesque moral equation of DARPA funding research to “cure” PTSD and depression just so it can basically have soldiers immune to it, able to march off and wreak more destruction and trauma on the world. Is this really the goal we want? How can that ever bring true healing and hope?
Those are the best parts of the book, where he wrestles with the conundrums, refusing to fall prey to easy answers. That, and the slow path of healing, watching Londoño forgive and embrace his younger self. His compassion for the war vets, for the queer kids, for the abuse victims, for the weirdos, for the lost and seeking, finally has to also extend to himself. It’s not egocentric, nor does it pull focus from the journalism. Rather, it’s powerful to watch him choose to be vulnerable through the pain and the joy.
Because I don’t think the magic fix is ever going to be any one thing, be it psychedelics or religion or medication or therapy. What works is whatever makes you face your unmet needs, and meet them. Whatever brings you radical compassion and acceptance. That’s the recurring theme here, between the lines—whatever makes you stop running, whatever brings you connection, whatever blows the doors wide open, whatever bears witness to the pain, whatever makes you experience the transcendent kind of love.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Provocative and inspiring. I love how much activism and disruption is displayed in this selection of queer art, as well as how much intimacy and joy. Provocative and inspiring. I love how much activism and disruption is displayed in this selection of queer art, as well as how much intimacy and joy. Sir Isaac Julian, Hernan Bas, Sola Oluode, Ghada Khunji, Xiyadie, Laurence Philomene, Tammy Rae Carland, Hugh Steers, Kehinde Wiley, Slava Mogutin, and Charmaine Poh were all standouts for me. And the section on Act Up and AIDS protest art. (It includes Zoe Leonard’s “I Want A President” manifesto, fuck yes.)
The breadth and depth of this collection make it a powerful representation of queer lives and queer love. And as this is a digital copy, I would love to one day page through it in print.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
This is a good book to graze through, gleaning what speaks to you and leaving the rest. For me, the care compass is helpful. I like any ideas about plThis is a good book to graze through, gleaning what speaks to you and leaving the rest. For me, the care compass is helpful. I like any ideas about pleasure, intuition, and curiosity.
It is also very… Brooklyn, though. Sometimes I play a game where I don’t look up the location or credentials of an author and try to guess based on the words; 9 out of 10 times I’m right when it’s Brooklyn. And by that I mean, it’s a particular flavor of the social justice world (and identitarianism) that will either be empowering or alienating, if not downright hypocritical, depending on your context for it.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Very Anglican in the exegesis—which is not a bad thing, given that I grew up with the more American fire-and-brimstone fundamentalist tradition. An exVery Anglican in the exegesis—which is not a bad thing, given that I grew up with the more American fire-and-brimstone fundamentalist tradition. An excellent amount of research in a massive tome that still manages to be incomplete. Ehrman may be more digestible, but highly recommend this one too for anyone interested in the literary and historical context of the bible. ...more
Did this need to be a book? No. Is it good to have more of Octavia Butler’s words in the world? Yes, alway
Our tomorrow is the child of our today.
Did this need to be a book? No. Is it good to have more of Octavia Butler’s words in the world? Yes, always. Beautiful art and powerful words in this (very short) essay, that’s good enough for me.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
I think the metaphor of a mask can be misleading. It sounds like I’m being deceptive, or changing who I am to fit in, whereas I’m actually just try
I think the metaphor of a mask can be misleading. It sounds like I’m being deceptive, or changing who I am to fit in, whereas I’m actually just trying to wear my true feelings on my face. I see it more like a language—a way to communicate. Yes, it can feel stressful and unnatural to speak a new language. It requires extra concentration, and it’s easy to make mistakes, but it can also be useful.
(Masking) becomes more of a problem when the effort is one-sided. Communicating across neurotypes is like communicating across cultures—one side shouldn’t have to constantly adapt everything about how they communicate just to be understood.
Masking as a language, I’m intrigued by that analogy....more
Note: if you get a posey of basil, lavender, and oleander, RUN. (Basil = hate, lavender = betrayal, oleander = a warning to someone yoPretty pictures!
Note: if you get a posey of basil, lavender, and oleander, RUN. (Basil = hate, lavender = betrayal, oleander = a warning to someone you distrust.)...more
Skimmed. Right away, there were errors in the religious history, which makes me suspicious of the subjects I don’t know. I doubt it’s as neatly packagSkimmed. Right away, there were errors in the religious history, which makes me suspicious of the subjects I don’t know. I doubt it’s as neatly packaged as Kennedy claims....more
I read this back-to-back with the Shannon Harris book, and while probably not the brightest idea to double-dose the religious memoirs like that, it’s I read this back-to-back with the Shannon Harris book, and while probably not the brightest idea to double-dose the religious memoirs like that, it’s a fascinating comparison on how wildly different the two stories are, yet ultimately how similar.
(Beautiful cover award goes to Alice though.)...more
Most of the memoirs I read about ex-evangelicals or purity culture exiles start in childhood, or at the very least the teen years. While technically tMost of the memoirs I read about ex-evangelicals or purity culture exiles start in childhood, or at the very least the teen years. While technically the latter might apply—Shannon was incredibly young when sucked into the whirlwind courtship and marriage with the evangelical celebrity Josh Harris—it’s still quite strange to see an independent, feminist, mentally-healthy young woman from a secular family undergo the transformation into perfectly submissive, conservative pastor’s wife that left her a shell of her former self.
She still keeps many things private, as is her right, but it’s a great outsider-turned-insider-turned-outsider perspective on the beast that is charismatic reformed Calvinism, abuse and all. And since her ex-husband’s book took up space on my shelf for too many of those formative years, I’m happy to replace it with this one....more
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