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I really enjoyed this book. Engaging with sacred Jewish texts as a woman is a challenge and it was fascinating to see how Ochs did it head on. Really inspiring.
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Not at all what I expected but I enjoyed it very much. It's a very...fluffy read for lack of a better term, and I mean that in a good way.
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I would give this 2.5 stars if I could. This is a case of I'm glad I read it, I would not read it again and I can't think of anyone I would recommend it to.
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The Friend Who Got Away is a collection of essays on friendships lost. More than I’d like to admit I’m haunted by friendships that were once very important to me but now no longer exist. So I was obviously the target audience for this book. While I e...moreThe Friend Who Got Away is a collection of essays on friendships lost. More than I’d like to admit I’m haunted by friendships that were once very important to me but now no longer exist. So I was obviously the target audience for this book. While I enjoyed some essays very much I didn’t enjoy the book as a whole. I think I have to blame at least part of my dislike on my sensitivity to the subject matter. My longing for friendships past made me judgmental to the authors in the book who acknowledged that the death of a friendship was caused by their own deliberate actions. “I miss friendships that ended through nothing I intentionally did so how dare you whine about how much you miss the friend you intentionally hurt.” I became bitter at authors who say they think they possibly could salvage friendships if they’d just make the first step and write or call. But I became more bitter still at myself because I know the same holds true for me. If I’d only make that first step there are a couple relationships that could be salvaged but I know they wouldn’t be good. I know that they would only be based on the other person’s terms. But I want to be optimistic for other people so in my head I condemn those authors. “You’re being so selfish. Why won’t you just call her. She probably misses you and needs you and yet you just refuse to call.” I know I won’t call and I don’t want to chastise myself for it, so I chastise them.
That the essays all mark the end of friendships and not a single one offers any glimpse or hope of reconciliations is probably what bothers me most. Clearly it shouldn’t since I knew full well what the book was about. But while reading the few essays that I really related to I kept hoping that the last page would be about how the author had called, or the friend had sent a letter and they were repairing and rebuilding the friendship. I wanted some hope that deep, deep friendships, particularly between women, don’t die so easily and that there is always hope for the relationship to grow and thrive again. None of these essays gave me that hope and I don’t have that hope in my heart.
I’ll never read this book again, not by any fault of its own but because reading it just reminded me far too much of pains and longing that I try not to think about so much.(less)
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Julie Powell was rapidly approaching 30, unhappy with her job, frustrated with where she was in her life and unsure where she was going. All of this sounds way too familiar to me to allow me to even consider not reading this book.
At that edge of 30...moreJulie Powell was rapidly approaching 30, unhappy with her job, frustrated with where she was in her life and unsure where she was going. All of this sounds way too familiar to me to allow me to even consider not reading this book.
At that edge of 30 Powell decided to cook every single recipe in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volume I over the course of one year. It was a monumental undertaking to say the least and it changed her life in ways she never imagined. Through her year of MtAoFC she kept a blog updating her progress and pitfalls and all the normal blog fodder. I read her blog a couple times in 2003 while the project was underway but at the time it didn’t mean much to me so I paid very little attention to it.
This time round though the book means very much. Again, blame it on my familiarity with the general subject matter (sometimes overwhelming ennui) but I came away from the book feeling optimistic. Not because Powell ended up with a book deal, writing gigs, and got to ditch her white collar worker bee job, but optimistic because she was a bit different at the end of her project, a bit happier, a bit better.
Powell’s style is very blog-ish in the best possible way -friendly, familiar, conversational. Even at 300+ pages the book is a breeze to get through and the cooking success and tragedies are well blended with stories and anecdotes form other parts of the author’s life. There are no photos and no recipes, it’s not a cookbook, just a really good retelling of a time of serious change in one woman’s life.(less)
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“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you kept from making engagements each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happines...more“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you kept from making engagements each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself. ”
That is my favorite quote from A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway’s brilliant memoir of his time in Paris during the expatriate scene of the 1920s. The prose is pure, expected Hemingway, and the stories are personable, intimate and interesting. His reflections on his experiences with and opinions of other authors and artists including Ezra Pound (very kind and wonderful), Gertrude Stein (a bully and very moody) and F. Scott Fitzgerald (hypochondriac, needy, weak) are insightful and endearing. Though his contemporaries are interesting subjects his small, delicate reflections on the true happiness he and his first wife Hadley experienced are incredibly moving. Particularly since he wrote this many years after the fact, many years after their love story ended.
Equally moving to me are the notes and details on his writing process and the details of the deliberate life he was living. Before he’d written a novel or sold much of anything his dedication to producing good work was intense and constant. His commitment to finding happiness, enjoying good books and conversation, and living deliberately was equally great.
I don’t suspect this book is for everyone. There is no plot or really even a beginning or an end. But there are chunks of incredible prose that made me stop and savor every syllable. There are memories that created passionate envy in me. It is a book that is now beloved to me.(less)
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Of course I’ve read this at least once before. Maybe twice though I can’t remember. What I do remember is not particularly liking it the first time round. This time was very different. I think I was never ready for Hemingway until I read A Moveable F...moreOf course I’ve read this at least once before. Maybe twice though I can’t remember. What I do remember is not particularly liking it the first time round. This time was very different. I think I was never ready for Hemingway until I read A Moveable Feast earlier this year. Now Hemingway is a friend and a companion. I hate to feel so common (it’s very trendy and popular to love Heminway) but one can’t help who she falls in love with(less)
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