It can't get more first hand. The guy responsible for dropping bombs can see his targets moving each time he asks headquarters for permission to launch. Without pointing fingers (too hard) he lays out how blurred the lines between friend and foe have become in Afghanistan. At the beginning he says rules of combat have become so convoluted you need a masters degree to figure it out. An entire book later you feel you're only made one class into that degree. The incidents get increasingly bizarre. A very interesting look at modern day combat, how we fight a moral war.

It becomes very clear why this conflict has gone on for so long. A big thanks to all the soldiers who put themselves on the line.

The whole time I'm reading it I'm thinking - this has to have won a Pulitzer Prize! Turns out it was a finalist. The journalism leading up to the Afghan war is great until it gets to the actually war. Then the parties, the stories and the sides become so entangled it's hard to make heads or tails of whose who. This book accomplishes that with out leading in too many directions. I don't think this story could ever be told again, or be told better by anyone else.

Reading about the war from the soldiers' point of view is like looking through a pin whole. This book pulls together 3 very different Afghan perspectives for a fuller (still incomplete) picture of what happened. Spoiler alert * in the end everyone is confused.

Callahan not only has an amazing story but his sincere rhythmic writing lends its self in time with the story. When a great plot, honesty and art come together that always makes a monumental book. And this is one of those.

Imagine seventy-six days of just salt water some fish and a raft and it’s an absolute page turner. Also a red flag for me is that it’s a one hit wonder. None of Callahan’s other books are still in publication. But this one lasted, it’s a classic.

It provided us some very funny and embarrassing moments at a bar in Paris. Don't rely on the pronunciation guide for all the words.

I really had high hopes for this book. But it turned out to be incredibly cliche almost to the point of sterotypical verging on predijuce. It's good for kids, and kids only.

Seems like the book could of ended halfway through. The second half was a more in-depth look at the first half with some added details or events. At first I wasn't taken with Hopgood's journalistic writing style, it's not the most evoking style for what should be an emotional journey. But later it was the restraint which made the sappy storyline tolerable.

Still something about the author seemed faked or hidden - which is to be expected in an autobiography which includes all of your living family members. Hopgood sure delves a lot into how much she cares about her "birth family" and doesn't discuss much about how little they matter, an ascertation you can glean from her actions.

A fast entertaining read. But somewhere after the first half the book lost a grip of belivability. Instead of appearing to be raw diary-style or "absolutely true" as it did at first, book started to give off the smell of a kid who flirts with exagerations untill they hit the wall of totally unbelievable.

Some cute characters and interesting revalations about life on the reseravation as it can best be studied, in contrast to small town America.

How can you review Kerouac. A sensitive book on nothing, where important nothing happens.

I super love "Diamond" Joe Biden and have been following him on the Onion. If you haven't, it's a fictionalization of the Vice President painting him as a Trans-am loving poon scorning "sawed-off hellion" rebel and the coolest guy on Capital Hill. When they were promoting this book, the REAL Joe Biden tweeted a picture of himself claiming he actually likes red Corvettes not Trans Ams. So clearly the real Vice President is in on the joke and is promoting it, too cool. I was stuck home with the flu and needed a light read, but this is hysterical!!

An expose on a social issue that comes off as racist.

This book has basically the same plot as the British book Little Bee. The lives of two social groups – the pretentious liberal Californian and the struggling illegal Mexican – are intertwined in need and guilt resulting in bubbling emotion. Except Little Bee is artful and this book falls flat.

It’s so clear that the author falls into the first group, a pretentious over-educated American. And his insight into the struggling Mexican mindset is so cliché and unimaginative it almost comes off as racist. The Mexican protagonist is painted as a beast of nature with little thought besides survival.

The author owed his audience a deeper understanding of the Mexican side before he under took such a novel. The flatness of the plot makes you hate both chalkboard protagonists and most of all the author for falling short on what was a respectable goal. The book’s goal, shedding light on illegal immigration in an unbiased manner, is it’s only saving grace. But unlike presents – its’ the thought that counts – doesn’t work here.

Impressive, enthralling – and probably Kerouac’s last wish.

Just the compilation of this book is astounding. Hunting through all his letters, ceaseless journals, half written manuscripts, and the personal accounts and books of his friends and lovers – is a monumental task. The author Joyce Johnson related in a book reading in Brooklyn that this book took her 4 years to write. Each bit of information was cataloged with copious notes. The painstaking research is so dedicated it seems to be a testament of love.

Johnson succeeds in describing Kerouac’s life. She shows both, how he is seen by others and how he sees himself. Combining these with his published books and history, a picture of Kerouac comes together in a book which he would never have been able to write himself. It’s absolutely gripping to watch the intensity in which Kerouac lives in his journals. The dark raging inner struggles and his need to live every second of his life to the fullest, sheds light on what it means to be in the beat generation.

I can only help feel like what Kerouac had been trying to describe his whole life in his books can only accurately and fully be described by Johnson in his biography. Johnson shows Kerouac’s life and the way he lived, dedicated to dreams and passion, was his real accomplishment.

It’s phenomenal when a book can make millions of people cry but no one dies. Sparks has a knack for simple heartstrings writing and whether or not you like the subject matter you can’t deny his unique successful style.

If the book was more complex or verbose it wouldn’t of rang true with the simple characters who lead lives in a decade without Microsoft Outlook or even cell phones. Just like the story the writing also shows that a simple true style can be incredibly rewarding.

I put this as the primo of primo romance novels – a standout at 28,000 words.

I usually rate a book high when the voice is real and original. Kevin Powers has a georgous voice. Also he has an MFA in poetry which shines through and the book itself reads more like a painting which is a nice change of pace from the plot driven recounts of books like Hunger Games that are so vogue.

He beautifuly depicts an eroding grip on the world that so often happens after trauma. No where are the words "post traumatic stress syndrome" mentioned but that's the magic of poetry.

Gritty enough to taste the blood and desert sand, pretty enough to hear the call to prayer over the red desert sunset

Chick lit on meth. It's rises high above it's genre. Loved the fun fantastic style.

However, this book should have a disclaimer: starts with irrelevant faux dream. Terrible terrible. The telling accessory of an insecure editor. The last dash of bright blue eyeshadow before running out the door that in some lights pushes the look from hot to whore. The only place I've seen it accepted is in 60% of made for Bollywood books. The beginning rambled for a bit, trying to jam a bunch of background details which the reader didn't require. But once the flow of the story started rolling into Hollywood the plot took off famously. I was really impressed by her strong brand of humor which had me laughing out loud continuously and still reading even as I was smashed against a prickly dim sum smelling neck on the train.

The cover and back cover summary make it a readily marketable product to fans of The Devil Wears Prada and Princess Diaries. But the twists are a little too twisted. And seasoned readers will sniff out it's memoir-esk undertones and the road to nowhere red herring details thrown in to protect the author. This book screams reality TV in a Hello Kitty lunch box. I wonder if the appeal could of been broadened with a more daring approach?

One certainty, Kingsley is a sure-footed stellar humor writer. And the lack-luster love scenes were more than made up for by the the roller coaster coke fueled embarrassing and emotional. And as darling as she is, it's riveting to see her show more get eaten alive and spit out because you know she'll always come out on top with a sunny innocence intact. That said, I'm way excited for her next book on getting lost in Paris! Prepare to see her spit out with a special distaste reserved for the cheery wide-eyed American tourist. show less

Was so glad I read this, Puzo's most personal novel. Where as all his books have been historical fictions on topics like: the Pope, Italian Immigrants, Italian Countryside, American Mafia, I felt this was a historical fiction on himself. The main character is a square writer who maneuvers into getting a book published and a film made and falls into the world of Hollywood. The writing is still so addicting though his female characters are always less believable than their male counterparts.