The First Twenty Minutes

The First Twenty Minutes is not an old book. It came out in 2012. In terms of science and discovery, it’s pretty ancient. Gretchen Reynolds’ book on exercise science was cutting edge when it came out. For those of you who are into fitness and follow the latest trends, much of her book has already become common knowledge. But it’s still worth reading.

Getting into shape does not have to mean running for hours on a treadmill. A hard interval work (even one that only lasts 20 minutes) can accomplish as much as a much longer, slower run. Weight lifting has plenty of health benefits associated with it, besides muscle growth. Our bodies are designed to move, even if that only means standing up from your desk every twenty minutes or so and pacing around your office.

And that about sums up this book. If you want to know the science behind all of those claims, Reynolds has it for you. I got a little lost in the science sometimes. Most of the terms rang faint bells from my high school biology class. A lot of it still didn’t mean that much to me. I think she could have spent more time bottom-lining things and less time spelling out the exact experiments that were conducted.

I did think the findings were interesting, and even though I said much of it was common knowledge, I’m sure you’ll find some things that you hadn’t heard before. I know I did. And even what I already knew I liked having confirmed.

Reynolds’ mostly focuses on the science and lets the facts speak for themselves. I really liked the parts where she let her own voice come through a little clearer, which was mostly in the introduction and conclusion. So my biggest critique of this book, which I think should be a compliment to Reynolds, is that I wish she’d been herself a little more.

I still recommend this book to anyone who needs a little motivation to get out there and move more. Just about every aspect of your health can be improved through some form of movement. If you already exercise and want to understand more of the science of what is happening in your body, this is a good book. If you just like to learn things, this is a good book. All in all, I would say this is not a great book, but it is a good one. Four stars.

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Cinnamon and Gunpowder

Cinnamon and Gunpowder is the story of Owen Wedgwood, British chef extraordinaire, and Mad Hannah Mabbot, captain of the pirate ship the Flying Rose. Mabbot murders Wedgwood’s employer and kidnaps him, promising him that his life will be spared so long as he provides her with a delicious Sunday night dinner every week. As Wedgwood adjusts to life at sea, he also learns that much of what he took for granted on land is simply not true.

I really enjoyed this book. It made me laugh, it made me cry, it made me rethink the human condition and the nature of good and evil. All of the ingredients, as Wedgwood would say, for a five star book are there. And yet, it’s just four stars.

The beginning of the book is packed full of swashbuckling fun. I really like Mabbot’s relationship with her crew. I liked how she called Wedgwood “Wedge” and I liked the crew’s nickname for him, “Spoons.” But then the book takes a gradually more serious turn, as the true nature of the Pendleton Trading Company and the opium trade come to light.

I think the whole issue of exposing corporate corruption and making up for past mistakes is a great theme for a book. And it is a serious topic that deserves serious consideration. But  Eli Brown changes the tone of his story completely. I think it would have greatly benefited from a few more light-hearted moments in the second half.

I also could have done with some forewarning of what was coming. I didn’t know much about this book before I read it, so I started out with swashbuckling fun and expected it to continue on until the last page. The swashbuckling continues, but the fun doesn’t. Maybe if I had been better prepared for that, I would have made the transition better. Now that you know, you’ll have to report back to me once you finish the book.

Despite my difficulties with the tone, it’s still a great book. It doesn’t have quite the ending I wanted, but it has the ending the stories and the characters needed. It falls short of the five star mark, but at four stars, I still highly recommend it.

I Guess I’m An Immature Grown-Up

Chris Harris’s book of poems, I’m Just No Good at Rhyming, is specifically for “mischievous kids and immature grown-ups.” And I absolutely loved it. If it means I get to enjoy masterpieces like this, I will happily own the title of immature.

Harris put together an excellent mix of poems for all ages. Some of them are the type of sheer ridiculousness that will have kids howling. Others contain more subtle jokes adults will find hilarious. As with any collection, I didn’t love all of them, but it was pretty darn close.

My favorites (it was a hard choice, but if I had to choose) were “I’m Just No Good At Rhyming” and “Two Roads.” I really liked “Rhyming” because it’s my favorite kind of poetry. There are lots of ways to make words dance along in a poem without making them rhyme, and I’m glad he took a whole poem to point that out. And I loved “Two Roads” because it’s a really funny joke involving one of the most popular poems out there.

Lots of people are comparing this book to Shel Silverstein’s works. I suppose it’s apt, except I was never that big a fan of Silverstein (sorry Shel!) and I loved this book, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.

One of the things I most appreciated about this book was the number of times Harris inserted a more profound message into a poem without ever killing the mood. When you’re done laughing, you’ll realize that there’s some good food for thought in there.

While I’m gushing over Harris, it’s only fair to take some time out to acknowledge the brilliance of Lane Smith, the illustrator. The drawings complement the poems perfectly, and there’s some excellent back-and-forth between the two minds behind this project.

As a final note, take some time to read through everything. The front cover, author’s note, acknowledgements…everything is entertaining. I actually think the acknowledgements were my favorite part of the book.

If you’ve read it, how long did it take you to figure out what was going on with the page numbers? It took me far longer than it should have.

Five out of five stars. Read this book and then badger everyone you know to do the same.

A Man Called Ove

All I knew about this book going on was that it was about a grumpy old man with a cat who somehow reminds every single person who reads it about their grandfather. I really think I enjoyed it more because of that, so if you haven’t read it yet, all you need to know is that it’s fantastic and you should.

SPOILER WARNING: If you completely skipped over that first paragraph, I’m telling you, you’ll enjoy this book more if you don’t know what’s coming. So stop reading this and go read that.

For those of you who have read it, were you as surprised as I was? If anyone had told me that a book about a widower trying to commit suicide would be funny and heartwarming and incredibly relatable, I would never have believed them. But A Man Called Ove is all of that and more.

I could most definitely imagine either of my grandfathers stomping around their house, checking radiators and grumbling about young people and their foreign cars. And there’s something very admirable about Ove’s insistence on doing the right thing in the right way, even when he’s ungracious about it. But I think my favorite character is Parvenah.

Parvaneh is Ove’s new neighbor, a pregnant Iranian woman who’s bumbling husband and two energetic daughters keep unwittingly messing up Ove’s suicide attempts. Parvaneh is the only one who realizes what is going on (at least at first) and embarks on a mission to keep Ove alive.

The whole arc of the community pulling together to save Ove and Rune, combined with Ove’s backstory of always fighting the bureaucracy and losing was immensely satisfying. I wanted to stand up and cheer when he finally came out on top.

The end of the book had me on the edge of my seat. The first time Ove tries to hang himself, I wasn’t all that invested in whether he succeeded or not. By Sepidah’s birthday party, I was terrified that he was going to go through with it. And then he has his cardiac event and I was going to be furious at Frederick Backman if Ove finally decided he wanted to live only to die of natural causes.

The epilogue is bittersweet. Life goes on, and that means death goes on too. The community changes, but the more things change the more they stay the same, as shown by the annoyed young Saab driver who buys Ove’s house.

Missing, Presumed made me question whether or not everyday life makes a good story. A Man Called Ove has restored my faith that everyday life is the best story there is. Five out of five stars.