Book Review: Messi vs. Ronaldo by Joshua Robinson and Jonathan Clegg

 
 

Amazon / Goodreads

A few years ago there was a news story about a Spanish tennis fan coming out of an 11-year coma who was amazed that his favorite player Roger Federer was still dominant and winning Grand Slams. I don’t remember reading about any similar accounts around supporters of Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi but their long and concurrent reigns at the top of global soccer are certainly remarkable. From 2008 to 2018 one of the two won FIFA’s Golden Boot as the top player and the internet is full of arguments, articles, and websites devoted to determining which player is superior.

Despite its title, Messi vs. Ronaldo isn’t really about determining the winner of the matchup. Good thing to, given that it was published before Messi’s Argentina won the 2022 World Cup while Ronaldo was benched over large chunks of the competition and had his contract terminated by Manchester United during the same time period. Rather, it examines the rivalry itself and the factors on and off the field that helped both players ascend to such lofty heights. It’s a solid read about the rise of modern international soccer, especially if you’re interested in the business side of the sport.

Robinson and Clegg both cover sports for the Wall Street Journal and bring deep knowledge of the sport and business savvy. The reader gets a history of both player’s careers as well as the growth of sponsorships, the English Premier League and other top-flight leagues, mega-teams like Manchester United and FC Barcelona, soccer media, and more. The biographical details and big career moments may be old hat to some readers more familiar to such players (having only really started to follow the sport in the mid-2010s I found the earlier biographical portions more insightful), but the book shines with covering the economic forces that elevated both players into major international celebrity. Accounts such as how Nike got into soccer cleats and how teams sold off sponsorship rights in basically every possible economic sector were especially fascinating to me.

Again, there’s not going to be anything about the 2022 World Cup or Ronaldo’s recent decline and the coverage of Portugal’s 2016 Euros win or Messi’s courtship with Paris Saint-Germain may not add a ton to those subjects and the authors don’t care about deciding who is better (though I’d assume most would lean towards Messi after what just transpired in Qatar). Instead, the book aims to chronicle the rise of modern soccer through the deeply interconnected histories of two of its biggest stars, and it does a very good job of that.

8/10

Book Review: The Last Folk Hero by Jeff Pearlman

 
 

Amazon / Goodreads

The Last Folk Hero is basically exactly what I expected, which is mostly a good thing. This is the latest biography from Jeff Pearlman, who has made a career out of sports books that fall into roughly two categories: 

  1. Chronicles of successful teams that were quite dysfunctional/wild off the field - The Bad Guys Won, Boys Will Be Boys, Showtime

  2. Measured biographies of legendary athletes giving a full overview of both their amazing feats and positive traits and their flaws - Gunslinger, Sweetness, The Rocket that Fell to Earth. 

This falls into the latter, providing the definitive account of Bo Jackson’s athletic career. For those unfamiliar, Jackson was a Heisman Trophy winner from Auburn who played in both the NFL and MLB simultaneously for several seasons. A devastating hip injury in 1991 ended his pro football career (he played several more baseball seasons) but he still racked up his fair share of brilliant moments, including a legendary 221-yard effort on Monday Night Football against the Seattle Seahawks. He is also perhaps best known as having the most overpowered sports video game likeness ever in 1991’s Tecmo Super Bowl (and it’s not even close). 

The Last Folk Hero touches upon these highlights and more, presenting a comprehensive overview of Jackson’s life and playing career. It’s a by-the-numbers sports biography in terms of chronologically examining Jackson’s life and doesn’t really get very macro in terms of broader themes represented by Jackson (Pearlman has always seemed most interested in getting to know his subjects as well as possible and depicting their full character), but it’s mostly well-written and Pearlman’s level of research is superb. 

Jackson gave The Last Folk Hero his blessing (in terms of Pearlman notifying him about it and Jackson not shutting it down) but didn’t sit down for any interviews with the author. However, Pearlman conducted over 700 interviews while writing the book and there were several passages where I thought to myself “I guess Pearlman had to have interviewed Bo for that nugget.” Pearlman doesn’t skimp on any chapters in Bo’s life and despite the high levels of detail I didn’t find any portions to lag. I have always enjoyed football more than baseball but I found the hardball-centric chapters generally just as enjoyable as those focused on the gridiron. 

Bo’s life follows the arc of a folk hero almost to the letter: kid grows up poor and black in an Alabama town that isn’t always particularly non-racist with a single mother, has a stutter and a troublemaking streak, finds refuge in sports and realizes he’s absurdly talented, accomplishes some bonkers athletic feats despite largely coasting on his talent before being severely diminished by a horrible injury. Even if his star only shined brightly for a remarkably brief time, he still was an absolute phenomenon in the late eighties and is deserving of the full-on biography treatment. Bo did write an autobiography in 1990, but from what I recall from reading it as an 11 year-old, even at that young age I thought it was a little shallow. 

Pearlman deftly guides us through each chapter of Bo’s life, pulling no punches but also never coming off as a hatchet artist. I feel like Pearlman tends to gravitate towards “complicated” figures and fairly represent their full character, and he certainly does so here. Bo could be charming and befriend a random batboy and take him under his wing, or he could be an absolute jerk to a longtime teammate and demand he gets paid to autograph a football for him. It seems impossible to draw any conclusions from his behavior beyond calling him “mercurial” (Bo was mean to a lot of batboys and nice to a lot of teammates too). He mostly let his absurd athletic gifts carry him (I’m still gobsmacked he apparently squatted 975 pounds as a 195-pound high schooler despite rarely ever touching weights) until he fully committed himself to recovering from his hip injury with a punishing rehabilitation regimen. In short: Bo Knows Emotional Complexity. Pearlman devotes ample time to every stop of Bo’s career from high school through the pros and I especially liked his behind-the-scenes insights of major events like his decision to spurn to Buccaneers after they selected him first overall in the 1986 draft, how the Raiders sorta sneakily selected him in the seventh round the following year, the weird political games Al Davis played with the Raiders’ backfield (any biography with Al playing at least a supporting role is probably going to be entertaining), and Bo’s grueling recovery from the hip injury. There isn’t a lot of post-career coverage, but that was fine to me because outside of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it acting career he seemed to largely just spend time with his family (which is great, but not the most riveting reading material). 

My only real quibbles with the book are that some of the baseball seasons get kinda same-y (the football ones are less of a problem because there are fewer games anyway and Bo would only join after the baseball season had completed) and some grating writing quirks Pearlman has (he’s a big fan of the single-sentence paragraph to lend a sense of gravitas, which is fine in moderation but gets overused here). That’s small potatoes though and I thoroughly enjoyed the vast majority of my reading experience. 

This is a “sports biography” rather than a “biography about a sports player” if that makes sense (i.e. expect some sportswriting tropes and it’s going to be sports-centric rather than history-through-a-sports-lens) which is what I anticipated coming in and it’s done well. Like most books like this, if you saw the description and/or author and thought to yourself, “hey, that might be good,” rest assured that it is. Strongly recommended to any fan of the NFL or MLB, especially if they have any passing familiarity of/interest in Bo’s heyday. 

8/10

Book Review: Somebody Feed Phil the Book by Phil Rosenthal

 
 

Release Date: October 18th, 2022

Amazon / Goodreads

In the television show Somebody Feed Phil, Phil Rosenthal (creator of Everybody Loves Raymond) serves as a chipper guide through the sights and tastes of various global cities. It’s not as insightful or deep as something like Anthony Bourdain’s travel shows but it is much cheerier and a fine comfort watch. Rosenthal’s passion for travel and eating clearly comes through and he seems convinced he’s the luckiest guy on earth to get paid to do this. The new book companion to the show brings exactly the same energy. Somebody Feel Phil: The Book is a combination cookbook/coffee table book/memoir that should please big fans of the show with an interest in world cuisines.

The publisher actually only shared a sample (I believe the first third-ish of the book), but it was pretty easy to extrapolate from what I read. After a breezy introduction about Phil’s inspiration for the show, the book dedicates a chapter for each episode of the show so far.

Every chapter provides some show quotes, production details, and Phil’s general takeaways about the city and its food and people. As anyone who watched the show could probably predict, Phil is universally effusive with praise for basically all elements of the places he visits, especially the people. That’s his schtick and it’s never too tiring because the real stars of the book are its many recipes.

I came into the book expecting more of a travel memoir, and while you sorta get that, Somebody Feel Phil is more of a visually-pleasing cookbook. I’m not going to ding the book for being different from what I anticipated, especially given that the hardcopy seems to clearly suggest it’s a cookbook/coffee table kind of deal (i.e. the pages seem very big). Each chapter has about 3-4 recipes of dishes Phil had on his travels. Every recipe is written by an expert on the cuisine. The recipes are also often a bit off the beaten path, including khao soi (a Thai coconut curry soup), Pasteis de Nata (Portuguese puff pastry), and Braciola all’Arturo (Italian fried porkchop). The recipes are highly-detailed and feature a lot of tips for how to best replicate the flavors. I didn’t do any playing along at home and I’m not an expert on assessing cookbook recipes, but these seemed pretty well-done based on the detail. I think I could probably recreate at least some of these recipes even with my meager cooking abilities. My only nitpick is that I’d want some more substitution options knowing that some of the more specialty ingredients may be a bit hard to find.

There are also a ton of large and nice-looking photographs from the show’s production as well. These didn’t translate super-well on my Kindle but I looked at the full-color preview on Amazon and the book is jam-packed with a lot of photos, some vibrant, some majestic, some candid, all pretty amusing. But that is a watch-out with the electronic version. I’m not a big fan of reading recipes off my Kindle and the pictures are going to come through better in the hardcopy (the usual caveat for cookbooks, but worth reiterating here for those who expected more prose and fewer recipes).

Somebody Feel Phil: The Book is a bit hard to rate because I think it’s catering to a niche audience (fans of the show). But if you’ve read this far into the review then you probably count yourself as at least a moderate fan, and I think fans who enjoy cooking would get a lot out of this. The recipes are intriguing, diverse, and well-written and the reflective mini-essays from Phil about each episode are breezy and offer some interesting tidbits. I don’t think there is enough new non-recipe content to justify the price of admission for those strictly looking for a travel memoir, but if the whole package appeals to you I think it’s definitely worth picking up.

7/10

Book Review: Seventeen and Oh by Marshall Jon Fisher

Release Date: July 12, 2022

Football is the only major American sport where an undefeated season is remotely plausible, and the 1972 Miami Dolphins are the only team to reach that milestone (at least when playoffs are included, thank you Eli Manning). An undefeated NFL season is a big deal now: there is always a flurry of media coverage whenever a team flirts with going unbeaten and then the inevitable “Mercury Morris and his 1972 Dolphins friends are uncapping a bottle of champagne right now…” (which they don’t actually do) comment when that team ultimately succumbs to the vagaries and randomness of a now-18 game regular season and the playoffs. Back in 1972, however, the Dolphins achieved immortality without all that much fanfare beyond southern Florida. They were only one-point favorites coming into Super Bowl VII, with prominent prognosticators such as Jimmy the Greek picking their opponents the Washington Redskins (this was 3 years after the AFL-NFL merger and there was lingering skepticism about the quality of play in the AFC). 

But the Dolphins ended up triumphing in the Super Bowl and closed out their 1972 campaign with a sterling 17-0 record. That means that even though they weren’t the best team ever (or even the best all-time Dolphins team, as the 1973 Dolphins are widely regarded as being superior), the 1972 Dolphins are a big deal among history-minded football fans and there already has been one book written about the team (Mark Freeman’s fair Undefeated in 2012). 

With the 50th anniversary of the Dolphins’ unbeaten season now upon us, Marshall Jon Fisher has taken another literary stab at chronicling the 1972 Dolphins. Fisher grew up in south Florida in the seventies and his book Seventeen and Oh attempts to be the definitive account of the team. I’d say Fisher largely succeeds in that endeavor, though the book is hurt by the fact that the 1972 Dolphins weren’t terribly interesting besides the fact that they won a lot. 

Fisher meticulously reviews every game from the Dolphins’ 1972 campaign, weaving in various player profiles and some of the political and social events going on during the time, especially in the Miami area. The book goes game-by-game with each chapter covering one contest and the aforementioned non-football odds-and-ends. The game descriptions are decent albeit somewhat generic. The Dolphins were involved in some close games and had a few fourth quarter comebacks so there is some excitement in reading the recaps. 

I don’t really have any big problems with the book but rather just found it serviceable but nothing fantastic. The bulk of the Dolphins were lunchpail pluggers in the mold of their exacting disciplinarian coach Don Shula. The backfield trio of Larry Csonka, Jim Kiick, and Mercury Morris had some flair but they still aren’t that engaging and Undefeated doesn’t yield any new insights about them beyond what you’re probably already familiar with. Mercury Morris wanted more playing time, Earl Morrall was a bit of a square but workmanlike, Bob Greise got injured, Nick Buoniconti was very talented. This is all stuff I knew already. The sections on the history of Miami and its rise during the middle of the 20th century was interesting, while the passages on Richard Nixon (Tricky Dick was a big football fan and would call Shula sporadically) didn’t seem terribly necessary or add much.

The Nixon material illustrates a kind of Catch 22 with Seventeen and Oh: if you’re interested enough to devote 400+ pages of your time to reading a book about the history of the 1972 Dolphins, you probably already know enough about the topic and history of the time so that nothing is going to be all that groundbreaking to you. Seventeen and Oh is overall a good but not great trip down memory lane for Dolphins fans and anyone nostalgic for the NFL of the seventies, and it is the best book (so far) on the team. It’s hard for me to recommend it too strongly to folks outside of that demographic but if you want a general football history read it’s not too bad, just nothing amazing. 

6/10

Book Review: Tall Men, Short Shorts by Leigh Montville

 
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This was a book that I came into with some trepidation and it thankfully exceeded my expectations. Leigh Montville, a longtime sportswriter for the Boston Globe and later Sports Illustrated, recounts the 1969 NBA Finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and his hometown Boston Celtics. That championship had a lot to offer in terms of intrigue (the Celtics had won 9 of the last 10 league titles and were 5-for-5 against the Lakers but were dealing with an aging roster and the Lakers had acquired superstar Wilt Chamberlain) and drama (the Celtics and Lakers ultimately went seven games in 1969), but because of that it has been mined pretty deeply for content already. Again we run into the problem where the kind of person who would read a book about the 1969 Celtics-Lakers series (i.e. someone already at least somewhat interested in NBA history) likely already has some familiarity with what happens. Probably not what went down in that specific series, but  certainly a passing familiarity with the basics and major exploits of the bigger players like Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, and John Havlicek. Thankfully, Tall Men, Short Shorts is not just a love letter to the NBA of the late 60s and those classic Celtics teams (though it accomplishes that too). Rather, it is a de facto memoir from Montville and also a love letter to print and radio journalism, the social climate of the late 60s, the looser and smaller-scale brand of basketball of the period, and much more. This different angle makes for quite a compelling read. 

Tall Men, Short Shorts is structured in chronological order, covering each day of the NBA Finals, with frequent asides to set the stage for the series and provide additional color. Again, this is not a book about the 1969 NBA Finals but what it was like to cover the 1969 NBA Finals as a cub reporter from Boston. Montville has an outstanding eye for detail and memory and vividly presents his experiences interfacing with Celtics players, hunting for stories (and making sure player/coach Bill Russell followed through on his commitment to provide a column offering his own thoughts after each game), and contending with deadlines and the fact that he had to dictate his stories back to the Globe office. The book is effectively Montville’s diary from the Finals, and he includes game recaps and columns from the series written by both himself and other Boston beat writers to give readers a taste of what changed (writers rigidly fitting their stories into a predetermined narrative written earlier in the game due to deadlines) and what didn’t (an unfortunate reliance on insipid post-game player comments). This was a time when the NBA had only 6 employees, the games were blacked out locally on television, and newspaper writers and radio announcers played a tremendous role in providing fans with details about the on and off-court proceedings. Throw in all of the personalities and drama involved and this formula works quite well. 

I don’t really have any massive nits to pick with the book. Montville almost exclusively refers to himself in the third-person as “The Bright Young Man” which is a weird and stylistically awkward choice (especially when he occasionally slips in some first-person as well), some of the more personal anecdotes (mainly detailed passages around a high school basketball championship he attended and his military service) struck me as a tad self-indulgent, and I sensed some “get-off-my-lawn” sentiment when the 77 year-old Montville lamented about the state of the modern NBA and features like its reliance on analytics, but these are all small issues and didn’t detract from the reading experience that much. Overall, it’s a very solid read.
8/10

Book Review: Can't Knock the Hustle by Matt Sullivan

About midway through Can’t Knock the Hustle author Matt Sullivan explains how one of the biggest benefits ESPN and TNT gained from their television rights deals was not the rights to broadcasting the games live but rather the ability to run a constant stream of highlights through their oceans of on-air and social media roundball-related content. Many fans primarily digest games in bite-sized portions, Sullivan asserts, and often they find the off-court action more compelling than any actual hardball action. This fundamental premise underpins the entirety of Sullivan’s new book, which is effectively a fly-on-the-wall rather than a fly-on-the-court account of the 2019-2020 campaign of the Brooklyn Nets. Focusing almost completely on the team’s personalities and highlighting the increase in athlete advocacy for social justice, Can’t Knock the Hustle is occasionally enlightening but also falls victim to some general tropes of the format. 

As you might guess from the general standards of publishing timelines, this book is about the 2019-2020 Nets and not the “three-headed monster” Nets of 2020-2021 where a healthy Kevin Durant and James Harden joined Kyrie Irving. In 2019 Kevin Durant was on the mend from an achilles injury and the Nets had considerably lower expectations. It almost served as an audition period for many of the role players such as Joe Harris and Caris Levert to see who should make up the core for when the Nets made a championship push the following year. They were a fun team to watch and Kyrie Irving was always a threat to go off when he was healthy and felt like doing so, but they certainly weren’t a juggernaut. I know the top dogs generally attract the most eyeballs but as someone who watched about 80% of the Nets’ games that season I can say that the team had a variety of quite interesting characters with lots of personality. In addition to the perpetually mercurial Kyrie Irving and the sphinxlike Kevin Durant, the Nets boasted a point guard who turned down Harvard, tried to sell shares of his contract to fans, and created a signature shoe from scratch (Spencer Dinwiddie) and a shooting guard who was highly involved in the NBA Players’ Union and international aid efforts, the son of the first African-American athlete at LSU, and husband to a former Miss USA and nuclear scientist (Garrett Temple). And that’s only the backcourt, as Joe Harris is a fascinating representation of the evolution of what is valued in the NBA and the afroed Mario Kart and rocket science-loving Jarrett Allen were also compelling characters. Clearly, Sullivan had a good amount of content to draw from. 

The book is structured as a series of daily entries during the season and Sullivan also frequently cuts back to earlier momentous occasions such as Lebron’s decision and the rise of player empowerment, major events in Kyrie’s career, and some further backstory such as describing forward Taurean Prince’s periods of homelessness growing up in Texas. These flashbacks provide further context for the actions of the present and make for a richer narrative. So far nothing that I have described seems all that different from other season accounts, but what separates Can’t Knock the Hustle from many other books in the genre is Sullivan’s focus in virtually all of these entries: off-the-court matters, especially with respect to social justice. He devotes substantial time to covering past examples of athlete protest including the Stephon Clark protests impacting the Sacramento Kings in 2018 and Donald Sterling-related protests in 2014. Sullivan makes sure to praise the athletes brave enough to make a stand on issues and pillories players such as Lebron James who tried to appease their sponsors and offer modern-day wishy-washy equivalents to Michael Jordan’s “Republicans buy sneakers too” comment. In 2019-2020 the Nets specifically were drawn into controversy early on after they traveled to China during Morey-gate and the playoffs were nearly cancelled after the George Floyd and Jacob Blake shootings brought racial injustices to the forefront of the national discussion. Sullivan devotes considerable time to these topics and how they impacted the Nets specifically, as well as covering Durant’s intense rehabilitation regimen, basically everything Kyrie Irving did during the season, and some profiles of Nets role players. The reader isn’t kept entirely in the dark on the Nets’ on-court results but they are clearly lower-priority. 

My biggest issue with Can’t Knock the Hustle is the fact that I didn’t get much new out of it. And look, I understand that this is often the case with these kind of books, but at the same time a lot of sports books review a little less recent history. My memories of the 2019-2020 season, the Rudy Gobert game, and the bubble playoffs are all pretty fresh and like most basketball fans I was following everything in the bubble quite intently because I wasn’t really leaving my apartment ever and there wasn’t much going on in the world nevermind the world of sports. March through the NBA finals covers the final third of the book and it really felt like a rehash of major events without any new analysis. I grew up in New Jersey and still have a good bit of affinity for the Nets (no worries on them leaving the state, I did too for 13 years) so I watched about 80% of their full games that season and I feel like Sullivan captured most of the biggest storylines, but I would have wanted Sulivan to sacrifice a little bit of depth for breadth with respect to the roster. Sullivan clearly had a good bit of access to Kyrie, Durant, and the Nets front office and I did appreciate some insights around Kyrie’s relationship with his teammates and the circumstances of Atkinson’s firing (which really puzzled me at the time and now makes a little more sense) but I felt like there was too much of a focus on Kyrie and KD and too little on some very interesting players like Jarrett Allen, Caris Levert, and Joe Harris. Additionally, I liked the social justice angle but I would have loved a little more background on what changes happened to journalism/social media to give players this platform and caused the increased focus (and scrutiny) of what NBA players do and think around social issues. 

Overall, Can’t Knock the Hustle is a decent read but I can’t recommend it too much because it covers such a recent event without a ton of new insights for the big NBA fans who would be most likely to seek this book out. It’s well-written and I don’t want to ding Sullivan for the fact that I followed the Nets quite intently and for the fact that Covid happened, but at the same time I do wish there was a bit more on the “why” around the season and the NBA’s increased push for social justice rather than the “what.”  

Book Review: Out of Thin Air by Michael Crawley

 
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Elite African distance runners have what us marketers call a “differentiation problem” in the western world. Many of the top marathoners hailing from Kenya, Ethiopia, and other nearby countries get lumped into the jumbled mass of “East African Runners.” Even the most ardent followers of the sport will probably struggle to name over five current runners from those countries and will do an even worse job at naming what country marathoning stars such as Eliud Kipchoge (Kenya), Kenesisa Bekele (Ethiopia), and Dennis Kimetto (Kenya) come from. I’m not here to lament this state of affairs but rather note that there is much more we can learn about and from these runners. It seems like Anthropology professor and 2:20 marathoner Michael Crawley agrees with this assessment, and his book Out of Thin Air provides an inside look at the running culture of Ethiopia with lessons for pavement/trail/grass pounders everywhere. Although Kenya has traditionally been seen as the hotbed for marathoning talent, Ethiopia has been producing international running superstars since Abebe Bikila won an Olympic gold medal running barefoot through Rome’s cobbled streets in 1960. Crawley does a fine job at providing a readable ethnography of this Ethiopian running community.

Out of Thin Air is essentially a sister book to Adharanand Finn’s Running with the Kenyans with a more academically meaty bibliography (in an anthropological sense). Kenya has much higher rates of English speaking and has developed some semblance of a running tourism industrial complex catering to curious journalists and wealthy runners looking to learn from some of the best runners on the planet. Ethiopia is a tougher nut to crack for outsiders but it is quite interesting in its own right. The country is the only African nation with its own alphabet, the first to adopt Christianity, and the only one to successfully fight against colonialism. On the running front, it also boasts twice as many marathoning Olympic gold medals as Kenya. Crawley embedded himself in an Ethiopian running community around the capital city of Addis Ababa for fifteen months, learning the local Amharic language and frequently training and racing with his subjects. This participatory angle allows Crawley to get to know his subjects on a much deeper level than what we usually get on such athletes, many of whom are not fluent in English. Crawley’s own outstanding running abilities go a long way towards endearing himself with the runners and getting them to open up to him. Anyone who has been on a group run before knows that there are few better ways to quickly develop a bond with someone than the shared experience of a long run.

Ethiopian runners somewhat paradoxically balance the concept of idil, or luck bestowed from God, with the notion that they can create their own luck through hard work. Ethiopian days technically start at 6am and runners frequently began their runs as early as 3 or 4am to beat the traffic and/or heat and cram in workouts around work schedules. There is a strong collectivist ethos among the runners as well. They believe that runners can feed off of others’ energy and focus on matching pace and cadence. Running watches are not terribly common among runners, but when they are used they are often shared across athletes and used to monitor the pace of the entire group. There is also a strong sense of confidence and hope among the runners. This is a rarefied running community, where a runner with a 2:05 marathon would say that they ran “...and five” because the notion of a marathon over three hours is unfathomable to them. While race glory only accrues to individuals, the “condition” or fitness necessary to achieve those goals only comes through grueling group training runs.

Crawley befriends and writes about many runners during his time in Ethiopia. Some go on to lucrative wins in foreign marathons and half marathons, others fizzle out and leave the sport, and many fall somewhere between those two extremes. This allows Crawley to provide a fuller picture of the Ethiopian running “community” rather than needing to extrapolate from detailed profiles from a handful of in-depth interviews. From an anthropological perspective I would imagine that this is best practice. But one drawback to the lay reader is that there is no climax or big race being built to that the reader is highly emotionally invested in. The author does travel to a half marathon in Turkey with some Ethiopians he is particularly close with near the end but we still don't know them well enough to feel that strong a connection with them. Still, we get a first-hand experience of running in an elite international running event, which is pretty neat.

So what lessons can running readers take away from Ethiopians? I think the biggest lessons deal with the value of group training, focusing more on “maximal gains” and tough workouts and putting less stress on the smaller stuff, and running with a sense of feel and not being slaves to Garmin splits (though Ethiopians were sticklers to adhering to the overall time allocated for a workout). Easy runs are intended to be truly easy, though virtually every easy run featured strides afterwards to inject some speed and “springiness” into every workout. Ethiopians also believe that certain environments are imbued with specific characteristics and they often sought out different routes to ensure they were deriving the full range of benefits from different altitudes and terrains. Finally, the runners all showcased considerable confidence (earned through punishing work) and always had goals they were striving for. None of these are particularly earth-shattering, but it is always good to have them reinforced and learn more about one of the biggest hotbeds of marathoning talent in the world while doing so. Long-distance training can be a slog and there are only so many ways Crawley can make a long run sound interesting (but he tries his best) but Out of Thin Air shines a light on Ethiopian running culture and brings the country’s running scene to life and shares how we can apply Ethiopian running philosophy to our own training. It’s a solid read overall and I’d recommend it to anyone looking for similar fare to Running with the Kenyans.

7/10

Book Review: Amnesty by Arvind Adiga

Arvind Adiga is one of my favorite current authors and I am pleased to report that his latest novel, Amnesty, is another excellent addition to his bibliography. The book centers around Dhananjaya, an illegal immigrant from Sri Lanka attempting to fit in and lay low in Sydney, Australia. Arriving in the country on a student visa, he decides to start working at a grocery store and as a cleaner while sequestering himself in a storeroom above his grocery store. Danny stays past the expiration of his student visa and tries his best to fly under the radar, but getting blond highlights and going by “Danny” can only go so far when you are brown-skinned and lugging around a massive vacuum cleaner on your back most of the time. Still, the novel opens with Danny having worked himself into a standard yet unfulfilling and financially unsustainable routine in Sydney. 


Amnesty’s plot concerns Danny getting involved with a murder that he is convinced was committed by one of his cleaning clients. Taking place over the course of a day, the novel features elements of a thriller but it is a slow-burn and much of the “action” takes place through phone calls and Danny’s own internal dialogues of how to proceed. Although it certainly borrows more from genre fiction than Adiga’s other novels, it contains the same sociopolitical punch that fans of White Tiger and Last Man in Tower would appreciate. There is an underlying sense of mistrust between the many immigrants populating the novel and Danny feels utterly lost at sea and unmoored from any help. I found Amnesty to be a gripping read and Adiga did a good job drip-feeding readers Danny’s past and how he got into his current predicament as well as develop the novel’s central plot. In addition to being an entertaining read, Amnesty offers a striking commentary on the immigrant experience in modern society and probably ranks behind only White Tiger when it comes to my favorite Adiga books.

Advance Book Review: Trust Exercise by Susan Choi

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Amazon / Goodreads

I just could not get through this. I made it about halfway and once the story (jarringly) took a major shift in timeline and narrator and things still did not improve on the enjoyment front I abandoned the book. If I hadn’t received an advance copy for reviewing purposes I would have jumped ship earlier. Although I enjoy books set in academia and the author, Susan Choi, clearly demonstrates that she can be clever, Trust Exercise did not hold my interest in the slightest.

The plot of Trust Exercise centers on David and Sarah, two high school drama students at a performing arts high school. It begins in the early 1980s when the two are freshmen and they develop a romantic relationship after an incident during an exercise in their theater class. The first half mostly chronicles this budding relationship in a plodding manner.

The prose is dense and complex and Choi opts for style over substance for the most part. David, Sarah, their drama teacher Mr. Kingsley, and most of the other characters come off as tired and cliched and it was hard to get invested in any of them. I don’t have any problems with unlikeable or even detestable characters (I just thoroughly enjoyed Sam Lipsyte’s The Ask and consider myself a pretty big Irvine Welsh fan) but I do have beef with boring characters, and much of the folks populating the universe of Trust Exercise struck me as uninteresting. Pair this with a meandering narrative and you end up with a DNF from me.

2/10