Review: The Art of Asking

I don’t know why I started following Amanda Palmer on Twitter.

I’d never heard her music.

I’d never seen her show.

I’d never read her name in the news.

I only knew she was the wife of Neil Gaiman.

Amanda Palmer HuffPo
When I saw she had written a book, I thought “yeah, I’ll add that to the list and read it someday.” Then, it started to take over my Twitter feed. One Saturday I decided to see if my small-town library even had a copy; they did, and it was available. I tweeted about it, and much to my surprise, Amanda Palmer herself retweeted me. Twice:

Amanda Palmer Retweeted Me

I used her book for my second-ever Teaser Tuesday and almost couldn’t put it down:

Here's the thing: all of us come from some place 
of wanting to be seen, understood, accepted, 
connected.
 
Every single one of us wants to be believed.

Artists are often just . . . louder about it.

Art of Asking is also the first book in a long time I received flak over. Apparently, the cover “isn’t appropriate.” Really, people? Ulysses and Lolita were fine, but AoA needs to be hidden away? Perhaps you forgot the phrase

"Don't judge a book by its cover."

And what a book it is. Amanda recounts her early artistic career as a Living Statue, the growing pains of the Dresden Dolls, her falling-into-love with Neil Gaiman, the backlash of a successful Kickstarter campaign, her current tour, and many personal relationships. Through it all she delves into the basic human need to be seen and understood without being judged, to ask without fearing the possible – inevitable? – rejection, to trust unconditionally.

Amanda lets us into her world and barew her own fears and faults and foilables. She does not claim perfection, far from it. What she offers is light.

A flashlight on a dark path, keeping others from stumbling.

A spotlight on an exit ramp, showing the way.

Track lighting on fine art, highlighting beauty and grace we might have missed.

The best books reach inside and change the very essence of our being. They change how we see ourselves, those around us, and the world we live in. They are unavoidable catalysts for change in a static world. In my last twenty-nine years, only three authors spoke to me in such a way:

J.R.R. Tolkein

C.S. Lewis

Dante Alighieri

Now the Triumverate becomes a Tetrarchy:

Amanda Palmer has arrived.

Review: A Burnable Book

Knowledge is currency.

It can be traded and it can be banked, and more secretly than money.

A Burnable BookLondon, 1385:

A book and a cloth prophesy regicide.

Two aspiring poets hide their own a dark secrets.

Two ambitious men plot revenge.

Two fallen women desire a better life.

This is the scene and these are the principal characters of Bruce Holsinger’s A Burnable Book. A book of heretical verse prophesying the death of Richard II circulates through London. When the only known copy goes missing, it’s up to John Gower – enlisted by his friend Geoffrey Chaucer – to track it down and stop the assassination.

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

Distraction, deception, subterfuge, mendacity, all those unspoken tools of the subtler crafts: government and trade, diplomacy and finance.

As far is intrigues go, I found A Burnable Book relatively easy. It is quite obvious that Chaucer is the author of De Mortibus, that Gower’s son Simon is in it up to his ears, and the identity of the so-called “mystery girl” is evident early on as well. History tells us that Richard II wasn’t assassinated in 1385, so we know the plot will fail. (I really shouldn’t have to give a spoiler alert for something over 600 years old, you know . . .) However, this did not stop me from enjoying the book and seeing how the characters would figure it out. For me, the only real plot twists were (a) just who was responsible for Simon’s involvement in the plot and (b) just how much Chaucer “knew” beforehand.

As a work of fiction, I found A Burnable Book to be about as satisfying as a bag of chips: It filled time but had little actual value. Adam Scarlett really turned me off. A relatively minor character, his rather violent end was not really necessary to the plot. Furthermore, coming as it did in the final ten pages of the book, it somewhat ruined the denouement of the overall storyline. I understand the motives behind his death; I simply think it should have come at a different point (preferably not at all).

I borrowed this book from my local library; otherwise, I would have felt robbed. I definitely wouldn’t pay $26 for the hardback edition, and even $8 for a paperback may be a bit much.

My overall rating:

2.5 stars

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑