The next book on the docket is Salt, Sugar, Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us by Michael Moss. This is a great book! I am very impressed with the amount of research that Michael Moss does on behalf of this book. He goes inside the depths of the industry to mine out the truth of what is behind the obesity epidemic that is flooding the United States and the world. It begins with the scene of a meeting where the heads of the largest processed food companies got together to discuss the obesity epidemic and how the blame was about to be laid at their feet. They walked away and decided that they weren't going to do anything about it, whether or not they would be blamed for causing everyone to become Fatty McGhee's. The book is split up into several sections - salt, sugar and fat. Moss goes through the industry leaving no stone unturned to find out what happened when and shows us that the industry cannot survive if they would be made to remove their cheap sugars, hydrogenated fats and synthetic salts. They would essentially collapse. It also follows the life of different and interesting people who were giants within the powerhouse companies (like General Mills, Post, Kellogg's, Pepsi-Co, Coca-Cola, etc.). One man was in the running to be the president of Coca-Cola when he found himself in the middle of a personal sea of upset because of his changing view on the product he was selling, promoting and representing. He began to have a heart change and realize that what he was doing was wrong and not the best thing for society and the world. He was one of the most powerful men of all of these companies and he got fired (by a man who was also in the running for president). He left that industry and started working on something he could believe in: selling baby carrots as snack foods. As you read this, if you grew up in America throughout the 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's or 90's, you will recognize and reflect on the marketing campaigns that were targeted at you and you will get to see their backstory. You will go behind the scenes to find out what was going on and why the chosen techniques were selected to be marketed at you. I remember the commercials for Frosted Lucky Charms (they're magically delicious!), Hi-C (and the big glass pitcher dancing around with children), Gushers, Jiff, Coke, Keebler products (with their little elves in the tree), Juicy Fruit, and "Yipes, stripes! Fruit Stripe Gum!" It was the world of sugar. You get to check out behind the scenes of the marketing arms of the companies who put out the chemicals and how they got away with it. It's quite a history and with this knowledge you are able to become a more aware consumer. I would absolutely recommend that you check it out and read it. You won't look at the processed food industry the same after you do. And it is written in a style that is easy to tear through - you won't be bored and you'll feel like you're getting insider information (because you are!). The video is an excerpt about how we got pushed into to eat a zillion jillion pounds of cheese each year. The narrator is Michael Moss. This gives you just a glimpse of some of his reporting and research.
Go get it! Check it out! Keep on reading, Ms. Daisy
Woah, long title. But the book is easy and interesting reading. Here's the deal. You know Genghis (that's actually his last name), don't you? He's the dude who started off in the steppes of Asia and took over local clans, then went for empires. He claimed more land than anyone thought possible. How did he do this? The book starts out by explaining his family and his history and then goes in to his thought on this subject. The guy was genius. Here's what he did. When he would conquer some land, he would leave his daughters or his wives (he had 4 at a time) there to rule it. Then he would take the leading men with him to fight and campaign. The bonus in this is that the women have their own power and do not generally seek to usurp more for themselves as they are inherently tied to Genghis himself (and thus intricately tied to the power anyway), which would be a danger in having headstrong and energetic men in charge. The daughters married tribe leaders so that there would be peace between groups and then those groups would be brought under the ruling power of Genghis. He would then take his new son-in-law (who had no ruling power of his own, he was known more as the prince consort) to battle with him. Won't the group left behind be more likely to adapt into his empire when their own prince's neck is on the line? He quite thought so, too. The women of the empire (his daughters) didn't sit around in fluffy robes and pick their noses all day. They were in charge, under their father, and at times also took up their bow and arrows to fight. They were not wussy little maidens. Their father charged them to be true to their three "husbands" - their reputation, the land they ruled and finally, the human man he wed them to. He said that they were intertwined and would all be mutually beneficial to them if they were faithful to all three. I look forward to hearing more about their secret history (apparently someone thought it was needed to cut out a section of the Mongol history - literally - within their records that spoke of women being in a place of power). Berry eenteresting, no? Ms. Daisy
This book was an overwhelming example of strong determination and perseverance. The women who trekked thousands of miles and cared for each other and the men were so strong and so devoted to their cause. I am glad to see that they were so devoted, but their extreme devotion ruined many aspects of their lives (and was horrific and disturbing at times). The women who got pregnant on the Long March were forced to leave their babies behind - some in empty huts, hoping a family would be back soon to help and be willing to adopt the child into their own life; some were left on the side of the road. This is the tragic side of devotion to a cause. Their own family and futures were drastically harmed as they saw the group as more important than their own life and children. Reading about the Long March did open up that unfamiliar aspect of thought, though. Western society thinks inherently more about the individual than the whole. Each person must fulfill their "own destiny", regardless of what that may come. The people who marched called one another "brother" and "sister" and thought of their own group as a family. This group-think can certainly get things done, but throws your individual life on the altar to the gods of the cause. (Which reminds me of the group-think lauded in books like 1984 and Brave New World , showing the loss of freedom and thought that such a lifestyle brings.) The physical difficulties are incomprehensible - up mountains in the snow with sandaled feet, shreds of clothing, as the wind and the snow rips through your skin and face. At the end of a long day enduring the tortures, stopping too soon or at the wrong place would leave you dead and frozen by morning. I cannot think of a more grueling physical and emotional experience than this, as these were experienced along side of all of the perils of war. If you're looking for a read that will take you to the extremes of human capability, this is a great book for you. It is beyond anything you can imagine. Keep on reading! Ms. Daisy
I picked up a book on Sarah Churchill (a biography), but I was interrupted about seventeen times while I tried to read the first fifteen pages over the course of three weeks so I ditched it for now and grabbed another. This one I have no problem with flying through the pages. Wow.
Dean King has listened to and rewritten the true stories of several women along the Long March across China during the fight between the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and Chiang Kaishek (the overall Chinese leader at the time). They travelled ON FOOT for 6,000 miles (10,000 km). There were only 100 women on the march and some crazy amount of men (in the tens of thousands - it may have been 100,000, I forget at the moment). More than half of the men died. Almost all of the women lived. They carried a blanket, a cup, a ration of rice and a pistol. The women were from ten years old to their mid-thirties. They were from well-educated and gentry class down to poor farmers and fishermen's daughters. Some ran away from their abusers to join the group that promised them equality and a new way of life. Some were involved in fighting, some involved in playwriting/editing and propaganda (or as King calls it, "evangelism"). This book is a page-turner. I think even if you aren't very interested in historical stories, you may find this is better than fiction. (Bonus: you'll learn something while you're reading.) I gotta get back to it. Go check it out! Keep on reading, Ms. Daisy
I finished the book a week or so ago (finally - I had a few reading detours on the way). What an interesting guy. I know that this was part of his whole life philosophy, but I cannot believe how many books that guy had read. He used to write down all of the books that he read and he gave a sampling from the years 1930-1935 and 1937 (I think) - a few of the years he was reading 120ish books. That is a book every three days for the whole year. Dude. Crazysauce. After I read half of it, I realized why he called it his memoir. Have you ever listened to an interesting old guy? I think he was getting toward 80 years old when he wrote it. He meanders around in his thoughts and one thing reminds him of another and he goes and goes as the river in his brain flows. As I was reading it I felt like I was sitting there listening to him as he sat with a pipe in a high backed chair in front of his fireplace. He had a lot to say and a lot of opinions to share (like most of us do) and it was obvious how his experience brought him to his conclusions. If you're an adventuresome sort or you are someone who doesn't rest and likes a challenge, pick up his book and see if you can compete with him. I saw that his children were born when he was much older than what is common (he may have been in his 50's or 60's when his children were born). I wonder if he wrote the book because he wanted to pass on his life to them in the event he wouldn't be around to tell them his stories - and so that they could continue to his grandchildren (since, perhaps it is likely that he may not get to spend a lot of time with them). He explores his philosophies on learning and writing. If you are an aspiring writer, this book may interest and benefit you as he goes through the ups and downs of writing and the persistence necessary to survive through repeated submissions and rejections. I suggest you give it a whirl - the lives of people are always interesting to hear about, especially when they do things like cross Death Valley, take care of mines by themselves, publish books, hop trains to anywhere and everywhere, sail the world and have encounters with crazy wildlife. Keep on reading! Ms. Daisy
A little while ago I read Lonesome Gods by Louis L'Amour. I liked the book somewhat, but when I got to the end of it, they had this blurb that all this crazy nutso adventure stuff was his actual life! I was more intrigued with this piece of information than I had been with the entire book. I wondered if there was a biography on him to tell more of his crazy adventures, and by golly, by gee, there was. Woo! So, I found this book called The Education of a Wandering Man . It is his memoirs and it is crazy. This guy's life is more fiction than fiction is. So he begins by telling of his love for reading and saying he got his education from reading books, not through the traditional way. He has this list of books he ticks off that he read and they are about one million zillion volumes long. He also was a world traveller. He started off one of his first jobs as a man on a boat, working and doing whatever the people told him to. He went all over the world this way. When he arrived back in the United States, he would pick up odd jobs by hopping trains and living in different places and states looking for work. After he would save some money, he'd get on the next train and go find something else to do. At one point he decided to be a caretaker of a mine. It was out in the middle of nowhere, just past Death Valley. It was about 70 miles to the next town and he got dropped off by an old man. He said he was lonely. Super lonely. So he read some more books. He wanted to write and to learn, so he was glad for the time to think, but he was still lonely for a kind of companion with whom he might be able to discuss life and literature. As he was finishing up his job at this mine, he was instructed to get into a Model T and drive back into town. He started her up and all was well...until about three seconds later when he ran over a huge rock and it broke the axle. He had to WALK THROUGH DEATH VALLEY to get back to town. He carried a can of pears and threw sand at rattlesnakes. He had a four inch scorpion in his boots one morning. He made it through alive to the town by some miracle after several days (he tells the story in detail in the book). This is where I've left off. This guy was a man's man. If you want an adventure of your life while sitting in the safety of your own living room, pick this one up and shake your head in disbelief. It's more amazing than fiction. Keep on reading! Ms. Daisy
So I'm almost done with Modi's biography. Poor guy! What a life. Seriously, you know how artists today are just straight up mostly nutso? Like you know how they have to dress in togas and shave half of their heads and walk around viewing life "artistically"? Well. Yeah. Paris in the time of World War I (or the Great War) was pretty much filled to the top with all sorts of weirdos. Famous artistic weirdos. So Modi never really got in with a group. He was always out on the fringe. He did get along with women very well and he always treated them in a gentlemanly fashion (he was raised quite bougie). He wanted his models to feel comfortable and he would often sing or recite poetry to them while they were in the studio and he was swigging heavy drink and painting their portraits. Poor Modi was a drunk. Kinda crazy, too. He ditched his bougie past to live like a vagabond in Paris. His Italian family didn't really understand it and he would send postcards to his mom, whom he loved very much. He had some love adventures. One of the women was a writer who drove him ballistic crazy beans, she was an insane Englishwoman who used to fight wildly with him in public and in private. No, like fight. Yeah. She was very sassy and together they were like fireworks. Then he got tangled up with this woman who swore that she was having his baby (which he swore wasn't his until his dying day) - and this woman even after his death went to his family and said that the child was his (they politely refused and said any child he claimed they'd be happy to claim, too, but this one wasn't). The last woman of his life was what he referred to as his "wife", although she wasn't technically (they never got married in a church or even had the papers done through a governmental institution), but he did write this oath that she was his wife and had witnesses sign it. She had a baby with him, a little girl. He was still crazy and out drinking on the town while little wifie-pants stayed home and they employed a wet nurse for the baby. His "wife" was only 21 when she found she was pregnant with his second child. It was when this became very turbulent. Poor Modi got sick. Like bad sick. He had a horrible cough and he was coughing up blood. His doctor misdiagnosed him and he was truly suffering from tubercular meningitis. Amadeo's friend who was his art dealer was advised by many that since he was sick to hold all sales (until he died - which always skyrockets prices for art). Modi was suffering badly and knew his end was at hand. He died on Saturday, January 24 at 8:50 p.m. His widowed "wife" stared incomprehensively. She was nine months pregnant. She tried to go in to deliver but they said that it wasn't time. Two days later, she jumped out of a five story window. His funeral was the next day, paraded through the streets of Paris, followed by Picasso, Leger, Valadon, Kisling, Salmon, Indenbaum, Zborowski and Simone Thiroux. Their friends said they should have a joint funeral, but since his wife's family hated his guts out and thought it was a worthless peasant, they refused. They came and took away her body in a rush the day after his funeral and refused entry to the friends who followed in taxis to the cemetary. His daughter was scooped up by his family and was brought up to live in Livorno, Italy. And his paintings sold at exponential prices. Poor Modi. What an ending. Peace, love and don't drink absinthe, Ms. Daisy
So yeah, you know how I was reading the Story of Tea ? Well, since I had read it before and I was halfway through it again, I decided to check to see if it had gotten less expensive on half.com so I could adopt it into my library. Lucky duck me, I found it on the cheapo and bought it. Since then I have relagated it to the shelf of resource. Aaaaand I picked up three biographies/autobiographies instead at the library to tear up. I am up to page 85 on a very interesting one: Modigliani: The Pure Bohemian. Dude, I love Modigliani! Well, not love love. But as for who I enjoy in the age of the modern artists, Modigliani is the one. I have not read about his life before so I didn't know what to expect. His family was Jewish and Italian and he was from Livorno. In Livorno the Jewish people had been under a special protection (unlike elsewhere) since the time of the Medicis and were encouraged to settle there and were granted equal political rights. He used to hear and then later repeat that his family was 'bankers to the Pope'. He had times of illness in his youth and his mother doted on him intensely. He was the baby of the family and she took great care and showed much concern for him. In his sickness, he convinced his mother to let him go to art school. Since he was a bit spoiled, she allowed it. Eventually he grew up and was given an allowance from his family so he could try to make it in Paris. He moved so much that people who try to piece together his history have extreme difficulty in doing so. He kept his slightly bougie attitude in the midst of the completely impoverished artists who were his peers. In this he stood out and was never fully part of a group. He looked up to Picasso and Matisse. He mixed in Paris in the time of all of those modern artists (can you even imagine Paris in that time!?). Many of the artists were going toward cubism and futurism and swearing off nudes and the old masters. He couldn't go there. He wanted to be a sculptor but lacked means to get supplies to do it and on the rare occasion he got his hands on some stone, he would get into coughing fits from the dust. A sad juxtaposition, no? So, that's where I'm at. Wanna read it? Keep reading, m'dears, Ms. Daisy
I've just started this new book this week, The Story of Tea, by the Heisses. I have actually read this book before (Maybe last year, maybe longer?), but it is filled with so many wonderful piles of information that you really probably should read it about fifty times. It's like the textbook on all things tea. And I love tea. So. Fits perfectly. I love how they incorporate so many aspects of tea - they start off with the history of tea and how it was used as currency, about how the different Chinese dynasties developed their own knack for what they wanted in tea (from actual tea leaves to the porcelains to the different tea ceremonies), how sometimes tea was totally off-limits to commoners and how special teas were for the emperor only (usually the ones that were the most delicate and the "first-plucked"), how it came to Japan, how the British developed it in India but thought it was a different species from the China bush (it isn't, it's just a different variety - in China it grows like a bush and in India it grows like a tree), how the Dutch got involved, how the Americans dumped tea in the Boston harbor and went for coffee instead and so many other lovely ditties. I prefer non-fiction to fiction, so this suits my taste (Get it? Taste! Ha!) just fine. I love how they explain about how different teas are made and how they get into the "terroir" of certain teas. They've been all over the globe tea trekking and have had tea with the monks and have visited sacred tea gardens, they've visited tea factories in China and watched small villages bring in their own harvest and hand-roll their delicate green teas. These people know their stuff. If you're somewhat of a tea snob, you've got to get your hands on this book. Warning: it may increase your snobbery, but you'll be so glad it did. This book will appeal to your senses because I guarantee that you can't really get through chapter 2 without sitting down and reading with a lovely warm glass of the elixir as your companion. As you drink it, you'll get to wondering about its far travel to your own favorite tea cup. And that, my fellow readers, is where I am today. I got my copy at the library, perhaps you can find yours there too? Happy reading and tea-ing, Ms. Daisy
Okay, I finished it. Yeah, it was a heck of a lot more exciting in the end than it was in the beginning. Did you finish it? What do you think? I was overwhelmed with the amount of enemies coming from every direction, actually. I was like how can one person who is not Monsanto have that many people hate them at once? It was a bit trying emotionally. But then again, I get stressed out when Ariel (the little mermaid) is up on land and I'm thinking her father is going to kind of wonder where she is for three days and she is going to be totally busted. Won't he notice she's gone? How can that even be pulled off? But I digress. So, obviously, that. But besides that, I was pleased with how Tia Elena and Miss Nesslerode developed their character and weren't afraid of the crazy guys. After I finished the book, I said to myself, "Well, I guess things probably haven't changed too much in any of the big cities. People are still getting killed multiple times a day. Like he said, people from ancient times have been clubbing each other over the head with rocks and who knows what, so why would we be shocked it is still going on?" Now people just do it the quicker and less-painful way by letting off some bullets. When I got to the end of the book, I read (in my version) that Louis L'Amour lived a life that was similar to Johannes. Now THIS was impressive. The story, while some parts were a little out of the ordinary, seemed mostly believable (except for the giant uncle living in the mountains and him finding the black stallion out in the middle of the desert - teensy bit unlikely, but at least humanly possible.). But when I heard this was essentially a fictionally derived version of his life, I was totally impressed with this guy. He had been all over the world and learned martial arts, and did plenty of other crazy things, not to mention having about 10 different jobs. So, I liked the author more at the end than I did upon starting. Quite frankly, I'm not really into Native American spirituality (no offense anyone), just not on my top ten list. That came through quite a bit in the story (throwing the rocks on the piles as he passed) and it seemed he was attributing his "luck" to the now lonesome gods watching over him. I did like how he continually emphasized to try to think calmly and rationally under stress and the repeated appearance of confidence via slow breathing and his creative bluffs. Meghan, although she may come off to some as brave, seemed to be more foolish and easily-swayed to me and I disliked her because of her stupidity in those areas. Her redeeming quality of beauty, although beneficial, seemed a little wasted on her. I was glad for things to turn around for her and for her to get a brain in the end and to see that she had enough cojones (yeah, not literally) to shoot that dude when he was going to attack her. I was bothered that Uncle Al died without meeting Johannes. I thought that would have brought some good closure to them both, especially being that they were family and neither one of them had much of that. But alas, I am not the author, so it is what it is. I am not that far out of it, so those are just my first impressions upon finishing it. Not very deep, just stuff I was thinking about. Anything you want to say about it? Was it believable or too far-fetched for you? Which characters did you like best? Were you surprised Miss Nesselrode was from Russia? That's all for me for now. Keep reading! Ms. Daisy
I am currently reading Lonesome Gods by Louis L'Amour. It was something my dear friend started reading and said it was so good that I wanted to read it too. (She's awesome, by the way. But duh. Like I would pick un-awesome friends!) The basic deal is this is a sort of western novel. I've never read a western novel before and when she said it was, I was kind of put off by it. Not my kind of thing, really. But it is a classic. She said not to worry because it was very good and L'Amour is an excellent writer who has a knack for nature and incorporating it into his writing. So I bit. She was right. She told me the first fifty or so pages were a bit dry. Yes. They were. Then things started to pick up. The star of the show is this young boy. When the story starts off, his mother has already died and his father is about to die. It is set in the west (going to California) in the 1800's. He's only 6 when we begin the story, but by the things his father teaches him to do, until you find out he's a 6 year-old, you think he's probably 12. Johannes' (that's the boy) maternal grandfather hates his father enough to be on an at least decade long rager bent on killing him. Nobody is sure if he'll want to kill Johannes, too (at first - you find out later he quite might). L'Amour seems to have a fascination with nature, Native American traditions and gods, a belief in evolution and a love for classic authors. Or at least those seem to be expressed repeatedly throughout this work. If you get your hands on it, tell me what you think. I'm at this point only in chapter 28 (out of 61), so I can't give you the full-throttle version yet. Keep on readin', Ms. Daisy
Maybe you like to read. Maybe not (maybe the last time you did that was in college). I do. If you want, we could read a book together. You could tell me what you think of it. Not like an intense thing, like you have to study for a quiz and answer all the questions and write an essay and take a test. It's like, if you want to read something and you like reading something someone else is reading, well then. We've got something in common. So I just thought you could share your thoughts, what kinds of things stand out to you, if you want to get all deep and philosophical but nobody else will listen to your awesome ideas, we will here. Just an idea. You don't have to like it or participate in it. I'll just be reading books anyway. (Fine! Go play on your side of the playground!) But you're invited to do so. Welcome, lovelies!
