Review: Quiet by Susan Cain

age: adult
genre: nonfiction, psychology
rating: 7/8 tentacles

I think it's a pretty well-established idea that the U.S.A. is an extroverted country with extroverted ideals and extroverted societal expectations.  What role, then, do introverts have in this extroverted world?  Many guides exist that claim they can coach introverts to participate less stressfully in extroverted activities, like networking or extensive socializing.  A lot of these guides are nothing more than advice on how to act more extroverted.  How to fake it.  Susan Cain's Quiet is a refreshing and much needed account of how introverts can find their place in society while remaining true to themselves and without stretching their personality and comfort zone in order to feel normal or be accepted.

Quiet contains many stories of people struggling to fit together the knowledge of who they are and the knowledge of who they grew up believing they were supposed to be.  It also contains stories of people who live in places with introverted ideals (I'm thinking of moving) and how their way of life and self view differs from introverts trapped in extroverted societies.  In these stories, we can see how qualities often looked down on in this society (reservedness, preference for small social gatherings and more abstract conversations, caution) are valued and even sought after.  We might see pieces of ourselves that we've learned to hide celebrated as an ideal.

This book makes me think about how eager everybody is to force their own values and expectations on others, with little empathy or regard for alternate perceptions or ways of life. It's sad, really. Books like Quiet and people like Susan Cain are steps in the direction of understanding and compromise between the different personality types, so I salute her for that.  I recommend this book to introverts looking for some self reflection, self-validation, the strength to live on their terms and to extroverts looking to understand their introverted friends.

Review: Spyctacher by Peter Wright

age: adult
genre: nonfiction, autobiography
rating: 7/8 tentacles

Very interesting account of a life's work in MI5. Some of the technical details went over my head but Wright's descriptions of meetings with his co-workers, allies, and informants, were fascinating. He has a knack for dissecting a person on the page and his perceptiveness allows him to comment with intelligent hindsight on the accomplishments and failures of British Security during his career.  This includes the hunt for the alleged mole in MI5, whom Wright believed was eventual Director General Roger Hollis. The intrigue! They never got a confession or any indisputable proof, but I'm convinced.

I am now curious to read the other side of the story... maybe an autobiography of a KGB agent?

Review: Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose

age: adult
genre: nonfiction, craft
rating: 5/8 tentacles

Reading Like a Writer is a guide for close reading. Francine Prose dedicates each chapter to a different writing element: sentences, paragraphs, dialogue, character, detail, and more. She provides several excerpts per chapter to illustrate these aspects of writing and discusses the mechanics of each excerpt, noting what makes them work or fail to work. And ruins the end of Anna Karenina. Thanks.
 
The thing about writing, is that everybody disagrees about what makes it good--a point that Prose emphasizes as she presents example after example.  The excerpts alone (good and bad) got the wheels in my mind turning. If nothing else, Prose is an excellent curator. I liked seeing opposing writing styles smashed in side by side because they reminded me that there is no "right" way to do something. I have choices. I can learn the rules and then break them. My to-read list is longer now. Some of the excerpts made me want to read more, which made me wonder what it was about them that drew me in. Mostly conflict, I think. The promise of a good conflict. Or cleverly constructed prose. Or... something. Clarity.

Review: Reality is Broken by Jane McGonigal

genre: nonfiction, gaming, life improvement
age: all!, adult
rating: 7/8 tentacles

I spent a large portion of my childhood glued to either the television screen or computer monitor playing all sorts of games with the ferocity of a baby drug addict. Reading Blaster, Kings Quest VII: The Princeless Bride, Super Mario Bros, Super Smash Bros, Mario Kart, Mario Party, Paper Mario, and (especially) Final Fantasy VIII are some of my favorites. I understand the joy that comes from abandoning one's self to the rules and world of a game, from working hard under the constricts of those rules to achieve an arbitrary goal, the path to which is strewn with obstacle after obstacle. I understand the determination, the absorption, and the focus it takes to achieve those goals as well as the pleasure of these comparatively small successes, the pleasure of simply escaping.

McGonical, herself a game designer, wonders why so many gamers choose to spend their time working toward virtual successes that have little value in the "real world" when they could dedicate themselves to equal but more practical productivity in their lives. In her exploration of the human love--need, even--for games, McGonical references a wide variety examples ranging from Jacks to Tetris to Words with Friends to World of Warcraft to sports. She then suggests applying the structure of game-play (a clear goal, clear instructions, and direct feedback) to real life projects and work. I think this is a fantastic way to give ourselves the sense of purpose often found in games.

A lot of what McGonical says here can be applied to books. A good book allows us to live vicariously through its characters, who often accomplish great things that might feel more important or more consequential than the trivialities of our everyday lives. Books, in addition to games, offer an alternate reality that is in many ways more satisfying than real life. I find this both sad and wonderful. Reality is Broken is ultimately a dissection of the reasons we seek escapist ventures, why we choose the methods of escape that we do, and how we can mold our worlds into places that mimic the games that fulfill us and provide us with such satisfaction.

McGonigal's prose is deliciously clear. She writes with entrancing and efficient simplicity. Her book was a joy to read and provided some fascinating insights into the psychology of gaming, the awareness of which will now influence the way I organize my work projects and my life.