On the whole, this is a well-researched book that pierces the fog of the Lost Cause myth to reveal a complex picture of Southern antebellum culture where economic pressures and bloodlines determined political loyalties more than pure ideology. For those (like me) who haven't seen the movie and were not already familiar the history of Jones County, Mississippi, Bynum's panoramic historical lens makes it difficult to see the main storyline during the Civil War period. Instead of laying a groundwork, the early chapters often render the latter anticlimactic.
Though I liked it, this could have been a truly great book with a little more narrative structure.
Lewis has a gift for storytelling and making mundane topics compelling, but this work falls short of his standard. I learned some things, but the abrupt political snark near the end dampened my enthusiasm, even as I agreed with many of his conclusions.
An eye-opening look at the vulnerabilities inherent in a connected world, this book tells the story of the first large scale cyberweapon (that we know of) through the eyes of those that discovered it. It's a sober reminder for those of us who write software for a living that what we create can also be co-opted for destructive purposes. It's also a call to contemplate the implications of our software-controlled economy and how it is changing the landscape of warfare.
A wonderfully grounded story about space travel, this book frames the first manned trip to the moon perfectly within its historical context — the tumult of 1968 and the breakneck pace of the Space Race within the broader Cold War. Kurson weaves a thrilling storyline in and out of enough backstory to make the reader emotionally invested in the astronauts, their NASA ground crew, and their families.
It's a story of hope and awe in the midst of social turmoil not unlike our present times.
A dramatic first-hand account of one Marine's experiences in the Pacific theatre from boot camp to Okinawa. Slightly self-aggrandizing, as you might expect from a Texan, it's a gripping story of courage and hardship amidst some of the toughest battles between New Britain and Japan.
Funny and entertaining, chock-full of reason and pith in the punchy style you'd expect from Wilson. He goes after our modern day attitudes about food that become barriers to fellowship and enjoyment of God's good gifts, showing how "many of us have turned it into a recurring opportunity for fear, shame, and guilt."
To Southerners like me, Sherman has long been a byword for the excesses and brutality of war. Chernow's Grant did much to dispel that image of the celebrated general, but this book presents a much more complete picture of the man who would march the Army of the Tennessee from Chattanooga to the sea and on to Virginia via the Carolinas.
The period of Sherman's antebellum life from West Point to California was almost as interesting as from Shiloh to Durham. I wish there had been more post-War content. The period of his friend's scandal-ridden presidency was barely mentioned. His time presiding over the Army during the country's post-war westward expansion and its conflicts with the Plains Indians also received scant treatment.
Even so, it's a well-written, well-researched and entertaining read.
I thoroughly enjoyed the thread Dean weaves through the rise of the CIA, its big personalities, high tech, and tradecraft.
As the nation realized its decade-long dream of reaching the moon, the CIA undertook another near-impossible goal of recovering a Soviet nuclear sub three miles below the surface of the Pacific Ocean, all under the cover of a fake Howard Hughes-backed undersea mining operation.
Nonfiction storytelling at its best. Grann draws on extensive research to tell a gripping account of the Osage Indian murders. In 1920s Oklahoma, the frontier was closed, but the Indian killing continued as corrupt men sought to separate the Osage from their newfound oil wealth. During a four-year reign of terror mostly forgotten to history, scores (or by some accounts, hundreds) of Osage died under mysterious and often violent circumstances. The investigation of these deaths built momentum for the organization that became the modern FBI.
The response to my previous post was amazing. Within a week, I had met with people from a half dozen companies trying to find the best fit. By the end of the next week, I had a great offer in hand with a company where I felt I could make a real impact.
Then I met Nick one Wednesday for lunch. Over tacos, we reflected on how the development landscape had changed in the twenty years since we'd started, especially on the frontend. Though still rapidly evolving, the rise of design systems and component frameworks makes it feel like we're closing in on the reality of a shared process between designers and developers. Nick works at InVision, a company who has been enabling designers and developers to collaborate better for years.
Nick asked if I'd be interested in exploring a role there. I told him that I definitely would, but I already had an offer in hand, and I didn't want to string that company along indefinitely. I was hoping to give them an answer by the end of the week. He said he understood and would talk to his boss and see what they could do.
The next 48 hours were a blur. Thursday, I met with Kirby, Nick's manager, and we had an engaging conversation about the product, the tech stack, and scaling engineering teams. That evening I got a call from Clay, an InVision recruiter, asking my availability for interviews the next day. I cleared my calendar, and he scheduled five back-to-back interviews via video calls on Friday. I've run the interview gauntlet many times, but never have I had a series of effortless conversations as these.
By 3pm that day, I had received an offer to join InVision as a Principal Engineer working on Studio. I was thrilled to accept.
I'm so happy to be working on such a cool app for a great team at an incredible company.