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 Journalist Asne Seierstad went to live with an Afghani family in order to really live the life they did and to write about the experiences from the inside. Seierstad focuses on the family of a bookseller, who has two wives, and a large number of children, both daughters and sons. The Khan family are not exactly typical in that they are still fairly well-to-do and Sultan Khan, the bookseller, does his best to continue spreading knowledge. Despite this, he treats his wives and daughters like second-class citizens, putting his own interests before everyone else’s. Seierstad uses the Khan family to explore the larger story of lives in Afghanistan and to try and understand what it is to be a woman in particular in the country today.
While I didn’t always enjoy reading this book, it was definitely a worthwhile read. Seierstad’s writing is mechanical but illustrative of the wider problems in Afghanistan. She focuses on a number of aspects of the family lives of the Khans and their relatives. Sultan Khan lives with his mother, siblings, wives, and children all in one house, which leads to an understandably stifling atmosphere. No one has any privacy – and the Khans are lucky in that they have enough money and are not suffering as much as many others are. Sultan makes trips outside Afghanistan which are long and dangerous ordeals but which provide him with new books for his store and a greater background knowledge of the world around him.
For me, the most interesting stories centered around the women of the family. Sultan’s youngest sister, Leila, is little more than a slave to their mother. Despite the fact that she’s attractive and has received offers of marriage, Leila is expected to stay at home and tend her mother, even when she tries to act on her dreams after the departure of the Taliban. More than anyone Leila shows how difficult it is for women, as she genuinely tries to get forward and is constantly rebuffed and pushed aside. Meanwhile, Sultan’s first wife has been relegated to the sidelines, robbed of the only role which matters in her country, due to a younger woman with whom she must now be friends. It isn’t easy for Afghani women.
The additions of Afghani culture were also greatly appreciated. I’ve also recently finished The Dressmaker of Khair Khana, wherein the women do actually manage to help themselves, and the extra background this book provided placed both in a better context for me. Though both were at times difficult to read, I’m glad I did, and I would recommend the pair of them to anyone interested in the daily lives of Afghani women in particular.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
 Heretics: The Creation of Christianity from the Gnostics to the Modern Church is precisely what it says on the cover; Wright describes how heresy has helped to shape the Western Christian church and delves into the history of individual heretics and how their treatment has varied across history. In many ways, heretics forced Christian thinking in certain directions, causing them to explain a bit more clearly what were appropriate beliefs and how Christians should worship their God. Wright examines the stories of all of the well-known heretics, including those that inspired the break to Protestantism, and how heresy became a crime, up to today, when heretics may not be burned at the stake but exist nevertheless.
I loved this book so much that there is no way I will ever be able to do justice to it in a review. Wright is precisely the sort of historian that I completely adore. He doesn’t dumb down his subject, but explains it in ways that everyone can understand, complete with asides that made me laugh and had the people around me doubting I was actually reading non-fiction about religion.Theological issues are almost always very complex, and often boring for many (he isn’t afraid to say so outright), but I always felt like Wright explained them well and I could actually understand the development of the religion as the book went on. It never felt disrespectful, just completely open, and often the little humorous bits felt aimed at people who just love history, like me. I adore books that feel like they were written just for me and this is certainly one of those.
Wright starts us off with the actual original definition of heresy – it’s derived from a Greek word meaning ‘to choose’. In essence, heretics chose to believe something other than the mainstream, and still do. They haven’t always been persecuted for their beliefs, especially in early Christianity, as they more nudged the consensus in a general direction and forced people to actually clarify what they believed in. Sometimes people who had been greatly respected in Christianity became heretics for various reasons, but there is never much of a logic to it; in the Middle Ages one man was condemned as a heretic and the other as a saint for doing the same thing. It was all very circumstantial. In many cases, heresy became a tool for rulers to use in order to cow their subjects and demonstrate what a great job they were doing, for example. Wright also takes care to emphasize and demonstrate that usually, the Church wanted to reform heretics, not condemn and kill them. They did die in horrendous and gruesome ways, but that was not the idea, it’s just the part that sticks in modern heads the most (and the part that made an example to their contemporaries).
One of my very favorite aspects of this book was how Wright clearly delineates that historical societies were fundamentally different from ours. Many people did not have a concept of rights or freedoms that we take for granted; that doesn’t mean that no one ever thought of them, or even wrote about them, but quite simply things were different. We have a level of tolerance that we never had before (though he does probe at this as well – imagine a US President that isn’t a Christian). We can feel sorry for heretics and we can acknowledge that what was done to them was very often wrong, but we can never fully step into the shoes of a Puritan in Massachusetts persecuting a witch. He also takes particular care to note that this is his viewpoint, in the context of the twenty-first century, and that someone fifty or a hundred years from now will probably view these earlier times (and our own) in a completely different light.
Regardless, I found his text convincingly and logically argued; it does seem clear that heretics had a large role in shaping the present church and it’s certainly true that they’ve existed throughout history. I’m afraid I won’t be providing the violent disagreement he declares he craves! Instead I want to push Heretics in the hands of everyone I know now. It was such a fascinating read, such a wide scope of history, on such a difficult subject without any hint of judgement, and on an issue that still remains with us today. I adored this book and it will unquestionably be one of my favorite reads of 2011.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from Netgalley.
 Look around you and attempt to count how many objects of plastic are nearby. If you’re on the computer, you’re probably touching some right now. Besides my laptop, I can see my cell phone, which is plastic, the plastic on the cushion I’m sitting on, the plastic on my pen, and there are even some synthetic fibers in the clothes I am wearing. And I’ve gone no further than an inch. When Susan Frienkel attempted to categorize the plastic in her life, she became overwhelmed, and set about writing a book on plastic. Focusing on eight key items that have shaped plastic’s history and our own, she examines the effect the plastic industry is having on our bodies, on the environment, and on the economy, going down to what we can do about it and even whether or not we should.
I’ll confess right here and say that I’m not a huge anti-plastic person. I do bring reusable bags to the grocery store and I recycle the plastic that’s accepted at my local dump, but I don’t really think about it much more than that. Reading this book suddenly made me realize how much of our lives seriously are based on plastic and how little of it is reused. People are far more likely to recycle glass or cardboard or paper, even though plastic is what’s cluttering up the earth, and every attempt at minimising waste or implementing “better” plastic is generally stymied because it costs money. This, while animals are dying and the sea is covered in little tiny bits of plastic, while some plastics are having unknown effects on our bodies, and while we continue to accept the dominance of it in our lives.
Frienkel doesn’t say plastic is all bad, far from that. She even talks to experts, and most of them say that they don’t put plastic in the microwave (whoops, I do this) and do recycle, but they’re not really worried about it in any other sense. Some are damaging, but more research will enable us to sort out the dangerous plastics from the safe ones. Some have already been banned and it’s a matter of paying greater attention as opposed to outright expulsion of plastics. She accepts that we have a reliance on plastic, so in addition to the historical parts on each plastic product, she is more pragmatic about going forward while continuing to keep plastic in our lives. It’s fairly obvious that she leans more towards the side of less plastic is more, but then ideally so do I, and she does treat both sides equally.
Naturally for me, the historical parts were the most interesting. Susan delves into eight items, among them the comb, the lighter, the plastic bag, the plastic chair (who hasn’t spent their childhood sat on a tiny plastic chair?), and IV tubing. With the comb, for example, she looks at how the comb was made before plastic, and how sustainable that practice was. Combs were expensive, generally made from tortoiseshell, ivory, or even wood – they’re something that’s found in virtually all layers of human history, and used to be a high status value item. Those of us who read historical novels probably know that already. Now, obviously, using a tortoiseshell or ivory to make a comb is considered atrocious, and wasn’t exactly sustainable then, so in this respect plastic, if treated properly, has actually improved things. Plastic combs are cheap, easy to use, and hardly ever get damaged, unlike the other types. It’s very, very interesting reading, and gave me a lot to think about that I’d never actually considered before.
Of course, Frienkel also stresses the need for more research, more recycling and investment, and more consideration of our choices. Implementing things like bottle charges are proven to work, yet have been shot down since 1986 because people don’t want to pay and don’t want to be obliged to return to the store to get their five cents per bottle. Thinking about the wider impact, though, makes it obvious that we should go that extra step. It’s not hard to round up all your bottles and cans and take them with you when you next grocery shop, and it’s those little steps, combined with larger measures of research and safety standards across plastic manufacturers, that will make the world a safer place for our children.
Plastic is a flat out fantastic book, well worth reading for everyone, because let’s face it: plastic is a huge part of our lives and it’s a part that’s going to stay. Isn’t it worth educating ourselves? This book is a great first step in that direction.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from netgalley.com.
 Mount has declared that Latin is fun and is using this book to show the rest of us the way. It’s a quick Latin primer, designed to take the casual reader or lapsed Latin learner through the paces of the language, up to the point of translating a small passage at the end. Interspersed with the tables are a lot of amusing stories about Latin and the appropriate hints of what you’ll begin to understand once you actually can read Latin. Mount decries the falling trends in Latin learning and explains, convincingly, why Latin is indeed a worthy language to learn.
In many ways, Mount is preaching to the crowd with this book and me. I have taken Latin, both at undergrad and graduate levels, but it has slipped out of my mind in the past two years. I don’t want to get too rusty, as I do want to do a PhD, so I have been trying to find ways to improve and refresh my Latin without actively sitting down and devoting hours to it. This was a fun way to do so and reminded me of all the Latin I used to know (thanks Professor Johnston!). Plus, I adore languages. I ascribe my general ability to understand grammar and my wide vocabulary (not usually evidenced around here) to the fact that I’ve studied five – even though I speak none but English fluently, they’ve taught me an insane amount about my own language and codified the intuition I’d picked up from reading everything in sight.
Latin in particular is surprisingly fun, and that’s one of the best parts of this book. Translating Latin into English is like doing a puzzle; you first have to find all the pieces and then put them together in a way that makes sense. I’m probably crazy for thinking that’s fun, but it truly is if you’re armed with the knowledge to do so. The not-so-great part of this book is that it’s too speedy. It’s easy to just skip the charts and move on to the next bit of English. It’s a nice refresher, but I couldn’t imagine actually learning any Latin from the book, and I certainly wouldn’t have been able to translate the bit at the end.
Regardless, Mount reminded me of how much I love to study languages, and his goal to encourage others to learn them too is nothing short of inspiring. He laments ‘the good old days’ a bit too much, but his intentions are excellent. I immediately decided to learn French, too, and actually bought myself a beginner’s course. In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose – why not learn both languages I need to at once?
Anyway, Amo, Amas, Amat, and all that … is a fantastic choice for the lapsed Classicist and an interesting book for the rest of us, too, giving us a peek into the history of a civilisation and a language that has influenced a huge amount of what we do today. Highly recommended.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my library.
 More and more women over the course of the twentieth century made the choice to be single; still more didn’t choose to be single but ended up in that boat anyway. Marching alongside the female crusade for greater freedoms was often a parade of usually young women determined to enjoy them, creating waves and social trends as they went along. Israel’s book charts their progress, from the Flappers of the ’20s to the working women in World War II to the professional single women of today. She ends by asking whether or not women are still expected to marry and have children – and if so, why?
This is a very light, magazine-like read about the history of single women, mainly in New York City to give the book a focal point, though Israel actually starts out with nineteenth century women that chose to be or ended up single like Louisa May Alcott. In many respects the book wavers between these two types of women, the ones who chose not to marry and the ones who were widowed or simply couldn’t find an appropriate husband (the advent of the spinster). She charts the greater freedoms accorded to women and just when it became okay for a girl to go out on dates alone, when they went out dancing with just their girlfriends, and how employment helped the single woman get by and enjoy herself.
The most interesting aspect for me was obviously the historical, rather than the sociological angle. I had fun imagining my grandma out in New York City with her friends as a young girl; I know she got married young and didn’t really work before she married my grandpa, but it was still fun to think about, putting a human face on the stories of the women Israel actually discusses. It’s fascinating to see how the pendulum on treatment of women swings depending on circumstances and even events going on in the wider world – everyone knows that women were freer during the World Wars because the men were off fighting and they had to work, but the book also discusses what happened when the Depression hit and mentions other, later eras as well.
The real downside of the book was the fact that, although it is meant to focus on the single woman, the author really emphasizes the stigma they’ve always faced in opposition to the celebration the book suggests. Yes, there are issues even now; women are still looked down upon for not wanting to have children, for getting on in years without marrying, and so on. Men are still praised for doing things that women are expected to do, like childcare and housework. But I went into the book expecting a celebration of choices, because we really can lead happy and fulfilled lives without getting married (not that I can talk having been married at 23), and didn’t really feel I got that. The author takes things from a feminist point of view, but I felt depressed by the end of the book instead of empowered. If it makes sense, there wasn’t enough, “Look how far we’ve come, we can go even further!”, and too much, “Things are still bad and probably won’t get better.”
Still, Bachelor Girl was an engaging read that delved a bit deeper into the issues single women have faced throughout history right up until the present day. Its approachable, magazine-style prose makes it perfect for even the most casual reader. Recommended.
- No buy links because the book appears to be out of print and I can’t find anywhere that has it!
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my library.
 In 2009, Colin Thubron journeyed to Tibet to climb the impressive Mount Kailas. Scaled by very few, usually approached and gone around by the path that Thubron takes, the mountain is sacred to Buddhists and Hindus, as well as a number of minor religions and sects that have sprung up around it. Thubron visits several of these as he journeys, as well as staying at very basic camps and experiencing life in Tibet with his two comrades, a cook and a guide. His journey isn’t just physical, as he pulls in his own mental and spiritual experiences to make a fully rounded trip for both the mind and body.
This was a travelogue unlike anything I’d read before. They are a bit of a new genre for me, so I was excited to try out another new author. I ended up getting a lot more than I expected.
The first thing that really astonished me about the book was Thubron’s writing. Not that the other books I’ve read have been written poorly, but his writing is almost poetic in its beauty. He really delves deep and describes the scenery and the people in ways that are almost transcendent. I kept getting lost in the imagery and thoughtfulness of his observations – he’s obviously one of those people who just sees and feels things more deeply, and has the ability to put all that into words. At times, I felt as though the stark loveliness of the writing kept me from really getting to know Thubron, but then he would share an insight from his life, about the loved ones he’d lost and the fact that he was the last remaining member of his family, that made me feel sympathy for him once again, and regain interest in his journey.
I’m not particularly familiar with Tibet. It’s one of those places that I know is far away but is off of my personal map, simply because I’ve never had cause to learn about it. Thubron’s book is interesting in this respect, particularly because he does delve a bit into the history of the places and the many spiritualities that worship the mountain. Considering it’s a place I’d never even heard of before picking up this book, I was quite surprised to discover just how revered it is, even more that people go on pilgrimage there and actually sometimes die because it’s hard going and tour operators don’t always monitor the people who go on their trips.
It’s a short book, but it is quite deep, and I suspect you’ll find it takes you longer to read than you expect, as it did with me. It isn’t perfect – sometimes the many names of religious sectors and gods, for example, gets overwhelming and adds up to too much. But take a little time to really appreciate the beauty of Thubron’s words and I think you’ll find that To a Mountain in Tibet is a rewarding read.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Kabul, Afghanistan became an incredibly difficult place to live after the Taliban took over. Within days, women lost all of their privileges, forced to wear restrictive clothing and take male family members with them everywhere, but often starving because those same men had to flee to avoid persecution or conscription. It’s too easy to envision these women as victims, helpless and starving, when some emerged as anything but. One of these was Kamela, who determined to save her family of sisters by starting a dressmaking business, even though only one sister knew how to sew and women were not allowed to speak with men to sell their wares. Reporter Lemmon tells Kamela’s story clearly and with a significant amount of hope for the future.
It’s very difficult as a western woman to picture the lives of women in Afghanistan. We know they’re hard, but we’re so consumed with our own everyday lives that we don’t spare too many thoughts for those whose lives are immeasurably harder than ours. Kamela’s story was outright inspiring and I am so glad Lemmon took the time to tell it clearly and carefully. She keeps herself completely out of this; she only figures in the introduction, and leaves Kamela’s story to stand clear without any details of how she fared as a visitor to Afghanistan. As a result, Kamela emerges as a daring heroine, not only determined to help her family but to help other women help themselves. It’s a story that certainly deserved to be told and I am very glad I read it.
At times, however, I felt the writing let the story down a bit. Little details that work in a column don’t necessarily work over the course of a book; I felt like the author threw in little things like what the girls were eating but then neglected big-picture details, somehow making the situation seem less dangerous than it was. She explained the background to the conflict exceptionally well, and there were incidents where Kamela was certainly in danger, but for the most part it felt almost too straightforward, without any real sense for me of what was constantly going on outside Kamela’s doorstep.
Regardless, The Dressmaker of Khair Khana is definitely a book worth taking the time to read. It’s short and it’s a true story of a woman who faced adversity to save her family, teach her peers, and make life in her country better for everyone involved. I’m very glad I read it and would recommend it to everyone.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Periods are touchy subjects for both men and women. But, given that more than half the population either gets them, will get them, or has had them in the past, this is a fairly silly state of affairs, and Elissa Stein and Susan Kim aren’t afraid to call it just that. This is a history of menstruation and everything to do with it, from uncomfortable symptoms to advertising to the pill to just what women did before pads or tampons ever existed.
I first came across this book when Rebecca at the Book Lady’s Blog raved about it nearly a year ago. After it failed to show up in local bookstores or in my library, I finally got a copy of my own for Christmas. I was surprised to find that it’s textbook-sized and bound, but on opening it, it’s fairly obvious why because the inside has lots of old ads and paraphernalia devoted to periods. These were oddly delightful as well as worrying; the authors poke at the problems with them and the misconceptions they delivered, especially the earlier ones, but I had fun imagining my grandma and my mom looking at them when they were brand new.
As for the actual content of the book, I had a sort of mixed reaction to it, simply because I can’t really understand empowerment around periods. I’ll spare you the details, but I’ll certainly never love my own period, and encouragement to do so never sits quite right with me. The authors take this fully into account as they do discuss the many reasons women struggle with this aspect of their lives, and though they blame a lot of the stigma on advertising, there is not really much question that periods can be painful and unpleasant.
One of the most valuable chapters for me was the amount they question PMS and other familiar medicalizations of classic “female” symptoms. Yes, it’s a serious problem for some women, but it’s honestly frustrating when someone else (usually a man) dismisses a genuine complaint by asking if a woman is about to have her period. When surveyed, a large percentage of people agreed that men had cyclical mood swings too – so a lot of what is simply our nature as human beings can be happily ignored by people who think we’re just complaining because we’re about to start bleeding. This is a worthwhile thing to mention; it frustrates me and no doubt many women to be dismissed because of bodily functions, and is something straight out of the nineteenth century that annoyingly persists.
My favorite sections were also those that dealt with history, as you might expect. I was appalled to learn what women did before pads and tampons, which is why I mentioned it in the summary, and am now actively relieved that I live in a time when they are readily available. But the way the whole advertising business built up around feminine products and feminine hygiene is quite a fascinating look into what happens when you have a product half of the population must buy at one time or another, and how you can use that condition to make them buy even more of your brand and not another. All very interesting, if not a little off-putting. I was also very surprised to learn that a huge percentage of women stick to the same brand throughout their lives, which explains why the industry works so hard at advertising. And this is true, so I don’t know why I was surprised – no matter where the sale is, at the risk of TMI, I go for the same brand, which always perplexes my husband who thinks I should just get the cheapest kind.
Flow is a great, chatty book that encourages women to open up about their periods, providing essential knowledge for today as well as a look back at where we’ve been. Highly recommended – for both genders, although I don’t think too many men will be brave enough to whip this one out in public!
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
 This is the remarkable true story of General Tom Thumb, in actuality Charles Sherwood Stratton, a small man who became one of P.T. Barnum’s most successful actors and exhibits. Stratton, an average sized baby, virtually stopped growing when he was six months old to become one of the smallest men in the world. Barnum discovered him at the age of only six, but put his age up so he’d look even tinier. Tom traveled the world, married a beautiful fellow tiny lady, and became a world sensation. It’s a shame that he’s been forgotten, as this tiny man’s fame in his day was only matched by modern celebrities.
This was a great book; it’s designed for younger audiences and is a fantastic non-fiction introduction to the world of the early circus. To some extent, Tom Thumb was exploited, but he was made very rich in the process, and as the author says, genuinely enjoyed acting parts for most of his life. When he became an adult, he seized upon traditional wealthy male pursuits like yachting, which his fame allowed him to do. He even managed to marry fellow dwarf Lavinia, who outlived him and achieved some fame of her own. The book really made me question how exploited Tom was; he was a small man, but it appeared to be his choice to continue touring or to take his wife touring, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy acting. He was pushed into it as a child but it was his choice to continue. As for his wife, she had a normal childhood and chose the career which exploited herself. Clearly gawking at little people is wrong, but Tom and Lavinia thought of themselves as performers and lived the high life due to their careers.
A few highlights of the book; number one were the pictures, which were plenty. It was fascinating to look at Tom in his various guises and see real life evidence that he actually existed. The pictures really put the narrative in perspective. The author also included newspaper clippings and photos of related acts and people, so I was never left wondering about what something looked like.
I also really loved Tom’s trips around the world. Barnum’s marketing talents in an age before marketing became a proper profession were simply amazing. He got Tom, who was at first unknown in Europe, in front of kings and queens the world over by the end. He became so famous that they actually asked to see him and his carriage was mobbed in all corners of the globe. That’s celebrity for you, and Tom had it in spades.
Naturally, I also loved the historical picture of the time that the author depicted. Things like Tom’s terrifying railroad journey to California because of Native Americans, the fact that Barnum collected curiosities and put them in something he called a museum, the elaborate fanfare of Tom’s wedding, all put his story into perspective beautifully and gave me an amazing mental map of the time period. Tom’s dwarfism was likely caused by the fact that his paternal and maternal grandmothers were twins; if so, it’s possible that he could have grown to a normal height today, which made me sad for him.
This was a wonderful book about a person who doesn’t get enough attention these days; I’d never heard of Tom Thumb until I read this book, but now I’m glad I have. Tom Thumb is recommended for older and younger readers alike.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review via Netgalley.
 The state of publicly reported science in our world is, according to Ben Goldacre, very grim indeed. With the details of newspaper reporters who aren’t trained scientists misinterpreting releases, pharmaceutical companies funding and rigging studies, and widely lauded ‘experts’ who are anything but, Goldacre works to put power back into the hands of his readers. Explaining carefully and patiently what’s gone wrong and how to judge whether or not we should believe what we hear on the news (short answer: no), he clearly and often humorously elucidates the problems facing modern science and the many injustices continually perpetuated on the public by those who are aiming for money and fame, rather than the welfare of human beings.
Unquestionably, my favorite part of this book is the fact that Goldacre is honestly showing us how to judge the science reported to us. He takes science down off its pedestal and displays it for everyone to learn about. As a child in an American school, I did learn about the scientific method, and I have performed experiments and examined the results of them myself. Unfortunately it’s been so many years since I did so that I’d forgotten nearly everything (which is something they don’t teach in school!). Goldacre’s book served as an entirely welcome reminder, especially in the world of constant health scares that we live in. Every other day, something else is discovered to raise your risk of cancer or make you magically healthy. He brings us a hearty dose of skepticism and several ways to measure results for ourselves.
Health is probably the biggest issue covered in the book, largely because Goldacre is himself a doctor and can most clearly talk about this issue. He doesn’t shy away from the big ones, either, targeting everything from the absurd things children are taught in school right up to the big MMR scare and the many ways people in Africa are misled about treatments that can genuinely save their lives. He does name people in the industry who practice bad science, but throughout he makes it clear that we can escape this ourselves. He doesn’t villainize any particular person so much as the entire industries that have grown on false studies. He does, however, target humanities graduates a little too enthusiastically at times for me. Since I am one of them who is trying to understand better (why else would I be reading this book?), I wasn’t entirely thrilled to find myself so obviously stereotyped. But the rest of the book was worth it.
There is so much covered in this book that I can hardly scrape the surface. It occurred to me, as I was reading, that this book actually would go quite well with In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan, especially given that the latter discusses some bad science in the nutrition industry too. Both authors encourage their readers to use reason, not to blindly trust in the media or people who are trying to make money off of our problems, even non-existent ones. Goldacre advises against the medicalization of society, this idea that we can take a pill and be cured of ills which would otherwise require an attitude change. Pollan does the same thing, but in terms of food; why rely on supplements and unproven nutritional vitamins when you can just vary your diet and achieve greater benefits? Questioning the world around us and making up our own minds is, in my opinion, one of the best things we can do, and both of these authors give us back the power to do precisely that.
Bad Science is a book I’d highly recommend to anyone, particularly those who like me have forgotten the little science they knew to start with. It’s informative, empowering, and well worth the time spent reading it.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
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