Man and Dog by Justin Barbour - Book Review Five Star Adventure

 BOOK REVIEW: FIVE STAR ADVENTURE

Man and Dog by Justin Barbour

A true action packed adventure story told in the first person.

Self-motivated, focused, and determined Justin Barbour meticulously planned and calculated every detail imaginable then leaped into the abyss of a wilderness where turning back or screaming for help was not an option.

Action packed and fast moving. This great book is a real gripper.

EXCERPTS:

As I grow older I am beginning to notice that most challenges are head games. If you can put yourself in the right frame of mind, you will find that life becomes easier. The ninety per cent mental, ten per cent physical approach is true in most undertakings of this kind.

Believe it is in me, genetically, more than most, I know, to roam the outdoors and experience its wealth. It is a desire I cannot fight or resist. There is so much to love. More than most can really imagine. Life out there is challenging and exciting and keeps you on your toes. Curiosity is around every corner. Freedom reigns.

I’m not afraid to share my mistakes, because reflecting on failures is the only way we learn as a human race. We can receive feedback the easy way or the hard way—it doesn’t matter. It’s not what you messed up that counts; it’s what you get from the experiences. You can’t focus on the negatives. See opportunities and solutions, not problems and headaches.

With the echo of cars whizzing up the highway, it was sad to think our days of living alone in the wild were all but over. No more untouched fishing holes, no more land all to myself, no more silence. In fact, it was strange to think we had experienced it all—it was like a dream gone by! Tomorrow would be the beginning of our railway travel until we crossed over the road at Placentia Junction some fifty-odd kilometers away, a distance I anticipated would take me three good days to cover.

View my author's page on Amazon

The Reindeer Hunters: A Novel by Lars Mytting - Five Star Review

Book Review - Five Stars

The Reindeer Hunters: A Novel by Lars Mytting

A great book, a tremendous history lesson, and an intriguing read.

Lars Mytting shows excellence in delivering a very memorable look into how little Norway went from the poorest nation in all of Europe to becoming the richest in less then half a century.

EXCERPTS:

I bought a ticket to just the next stop, but stayed on all the way to Lillehammer, and walked into Helleberg’s sporting and hunting shop, where he saw a Krag-Jørgensen. The Krag had been patented in 1894 by Colonel Krag and Gunsmith Jørgensen, and was manufactured by Kongsberg Våpenfabrikk just as the chamber charger had been, though a sea of craftsmanship and technical advancements separated the two. The Krag had attracted attention around the globe as the world’s most advanced and precise rifle, and it was Norwegian.

The projectiles were amazingly long and just 6.5 millimetres in diameter, with an muzzle velocity of an unbelievable 770 metres per second, so there was nothing on this Earth that moved faster than the bullets shot from a Krag, and it was said to be able to kill from a distance of 600 metres. All the bother of preparing the chamber charger to fire was eliminated with a little waterproof cartridge, and not just that: the Krag could take up to six cartridges at once! He had studied the mechanism closely.

On the train home he had sat in the gangway next to an old lady from Hundorp, the Krag clamped between his knees, and at each station more folk came over to take a look, all wanting to see if the magazine really flipped open as they had heard, and if the mechanism was really as smooth as everyone said, and the old woman said if they could make something that fine here in Norway, there were no limits to what the country could do when they got rid of the Swedes.

In Fritzner’s Old Norse dictionary and discovered that frjá did not necessarily mean “friend”. In an even older sense it meant “to love”.

View my author's page on Amazon

The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen - Book Review Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW: FIVE STARS

The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen 

This is a witty, cynical, thought-provoking novel delivered with fast moving dialogue. I found he book misanthropic and unrelentingly fast moving.

EXCERPTS:

He allowed himself to be querulous about how the Americans had promised us salvation from communism if we only did as we were told. They started this war, and now that they’re tired of it, they’ve sold us out, he said, pouring me another drink. But who is there to blame but ourselves? We were foolish enough to think they would keep their word. Now there’s nowhere to go but America. There are worse places, I said. Perhaps, he said. At least we’ll live to fight again. But for now, we are well and truly fucked. What kind of toast is right for that?

The words so stark and black on a bare white page—“consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” Nothing Emerson wrote was ever truer of America, but that was not the only reason I underlined his words once, twice, thrice. What had smitten me then, and strikes me now, was that the same thing could be said of our motherland, where we are nothing if not inconsistent. On our last morning, I drove the General to his office at the National Police compound.

Now a guarantee of happiness—that’s a great deal. But a guarantee to be allowed to pursue the jackpot of happiness? Merely an opportunity to buy a lottery ticket. Someone would surely win millions, but millions would surely pay for it.

The mall was bordered by an example of America’s most unique architectural contribution to the world, a parking lot. Some bemoan the brutalism of socialist architecture, but was the blandness of capitalist architecture any better? One could drive for miles along a boulevard and see nothing but parking lots and the kudzu of strip malls catering to every need, from pet shops to water dispensaries to ethnic restaurants and every other imaginable category of mom-and-pop small business, each one an advertisement for the pursuit of happiness.

These were thoughts, not deeds. We would all be in Hell if convicted of our thoughts.

He was more interested in threatening the shoplifters with severe bodily harm until they fell to their knees, surrendered the items hidden in their jackets, and kowtowed for forgiveness. Bon was merely teaching them the way we had been taught. Our teachers were firm believers in the corporal punishment that Americans had given up, which was probably one reason they could no longer win wars.

Christian ideas being so important to the American people that they had granted them a place on the most precious document of all, the dollar bill. IN GOD WE TRUST must even now be printed on the money in their wallets.

View my author's page on Amazon

Up from Slavery, an autobiography - Five Star Book Review

 Up from Slavery, an autobiography by Booker T. Washington

An autobiography of one of the most outstanding personalities that left his political and philosophical imprint on America after the Civil War. An exemplary citizen.

EXCERPTS:

The slave system on our place, in a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and self-help out of the white people. My old master had many boys and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever mastered a single trade or special line of productive industry. The girls were not taught to cook, sew, or to take care of the house. All of this was left to the slaves. The slaves, of course, had little personal interest in the life of the plantation, and their ignorance prevented them from learning how to do things in the most improved and thorough manner. As a result of the system, fences were out of repair, gates were hanging half off the hinges, doors creaked, window-panes were out, plastering had fallen but was not replaced, weeds grew in the yard.

As a rule, there was food for whites and blacks, but inside the house, and on the dining-room table, there was wanting that delicacy and refinement of touch and finish which can make a home the most convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world.

Withal there was a waste of food and other materials which was sad. When freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to begin life anew as the master, except in the matter of book-learning and ownership of property.

I would say that I think I have learned, in some degree at least, to disregard the old maxim which says, “Do not get others to do that which you can do yourself.” My motto, on the other hand, is, “Do not do that which others can do as well.”

I make it a rule to clear my desk every day, before leaving my office, of all correspondence and memorandum, so that on the morrow I can begin a new day of work. I make it a rule never to let my work drive me, but to so master it, and keep it in such complete control, and to keep so far ahead of it, that I will be the master instead of the servant.

There is a physical and mental and spiritual enjoyment that comes from a consciousness of being the absolute master of one’s work, in all its details, that is very satisfactory and inspiring. My experience teaches me that, if one learns to follow this plan, he gets a freshness of body and vigor of mind out of work that goes a long way toward keeping him strong and healthy.

I believe that when one can grow to the point where he loves his work, this gives him a kind of strength that is most valuable.

View my author's page on Amazon

It Would Be Night in Caracas - Book Review - Five Stars

BOOK REVIEW: FIVE STARS

It Would Be Night in Caracas by Karina Sainz Borgo

Fascism seems simple to sell to the populous. Witness its explosive expansion as it swept the world before WWII. Central and South America fell into that same drainpipe and the US teeters on the brink at this moment.

This timely novel is an eye opener.

It could happen anywhere.

EXCERPTS:

When the money to fund the fleet dried up, the state decided to compensate members with a little bonus. While they would receive a full revolutionary salary no longer, they would have a license to sack and raze with abandon. Nobody could touch them. Nobody could control them. Anyone with a death wish and an urge to kill could join their ranks, though in truth many acted in their name without any connection to the original organization.

They ended up forming small cooperatives, collecting tolls in different parts of the city. They erected tents and spent the day nearby, lounging on their bikes, from that vantage spying their prey before kicking the bikes into life and hunting them down at gunpoint.

I went down the seven floors on foot. A woman started weeping loudly upon arriving in the ER. Her father was the man with the gunshot wound that two nurses had pushed past me earlier. He had died before reaching the operating room. They cut us down like trees. They killed us like dogs.

Mountains of boxes, sticks, mattresses, and almost twenty government-logo-stamped boxes of food. The people who were given those packets had certain obligations: to show up without question at any event or demonstration in support of the Revolution; and to deliver simple services that went from denouncing neighbors to forming commands or groups in support of the Revolution.

What began as a privilege for civil servants spread as a form of propaganda and then of surveillance. Everyone who collaborated was guaranteed a box of food. It wasn’t much: a liter of palm oil, a packet of pasta, another packet of coffee. Sometimes, if you were lucky, they gave out sardines or Spam. But it was food, and hunger had a tight hold on us.

The sewage had risen far above our heads. It had buried us. Him, me, the rest. This was no longer a country. It was a septic tank.

I glanced around the room one last time. My mother and I were the last inhabitants of the world that fit inside these walls. Now both were dead: my mother, my home. My country, too.

If she wants to live, Adelaida must leave Venezuela, and her old self, behind

Visit my author´s page on Amazon