PositiveThe RumpusGrann spins a riveting tale told from dusty archives. Much of his research was pouring over wills, ledgers, and court transcripts. But what emerges is a horrifying story of conspiracy and white complicity. I read the book as I traveled through Oklahoma, while the president went to Tennessee and lauded the legacy of Andrew Jackson—it made the past feel desperately present ... What emerges is a complicated portrait of a woman who still remains largely voiceless. This isn’t entirely Grann’s fault. Burkhart didn’t leave much of her voice behind and Grann’s writing is careful not to speculate, not to overstep, or imagine. Yet, in turning to the historical record to find her, she evades rendering ... Killers of the Flower Moon calls forth a history of memory, of loss, of silence, and white complicity, all of which are still part of our devastating national reality. Despite its flaws, it is an important and powerful read.
Heather Havrilesky
PositiveThe RumpusThe entire book is almost overwhelming in its unrestrained gush of love, self-acceptance, and a serious exercise regimen. As the advice pools together into a longer treatise on how to live in the modern world, the letters become almost secondary to Havrilesky’s feelings on life, love, and a fridge well-stocked with beverages. Individuals are steamrolled in favor of a larger point. I often reached the end of an essay feeling inspired, but hardly remembering what the question was. But while the advice might not always be practical, it is soulful and raw. Even if she loses the initial question, Havrilesky never loses the reader, drawing us in with humor, honesty, and empathy.
Maggie Nelson
RaveThe RumpusBearing witness to pain is a central theme of the book. And Nelson’s witness doesn’t shout for justice or chant for reform. She simply witnesses a story of grief and pain as it’s passed down through generations. In a world obsessed with the grisly details of CSI, Serial, and Making a Murderer, Maggie Nelson’s The Red Parts feels like a caesura ... This is the beauty of this sparse book. Although it can be classified as true crime, The Red Parts has none of the trappings of a whodunit. It doesn’t look for answers, it just looks unflinchingly at the wreckage, the loss, the love and the fear. It bears witness.
