Mommy, am I cult?

Very creepy and well written. I was sitting at the edge of my seat and having chills down my spine as I read it.

But since I don't understand it all, I found the ending quite unsatisfactory.

I read this on the wave of the great Everyday is for the Thief.


At first, it seemed that Cole is the king of non-story fiction: there is no structured plot in sight. In Everyday is for the thief, it resulted in a great impression of Nigerians' psyche. However, Open City only showed me a closeted essay without clear conclusions. There is something about racism, prejudice and the inscrutable pain of living, but that is all I've got.

And the disconcerting revelation made in the second-to-last chapter really ruined it for me. As I write, I'm meditating about its meaning, and how the parable relates to that.

So I guess I wasn't ready to read it at all.

2.5 stars

Most chick lits involve a girl in her early to mid-twenties in some adventure to find a new love. Bridget Jones was thirty something, at least, but there is not much adventure on paper out there for the older ladies. And that's the good thing about the "RomCom in the edge" series, by [a:Carol Maloney Scott|8423427|Carol Maloney Scott|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1406831337p2/8423427.jpg]. We get to read about older women. Women who were divorced, who had real life problems, and knows a thing or two about how that happily-ever-after form other stories is not so happy in the real world.

But that doesn't mean the series can't be escapist. There are tons of jokes (some of them too silly, some of them lost on foreigners, but some of them witty or hilarious) and we get to laugh and empathize with Rebecca, a middle aged woman who has to deal with the memory of her boyfriend's dead wife... While she is tempted by a hot Portuguese hunky ex-boyfriend.

The MC is very reasonable, what makes her character much more relatable than Claire from the first book (don't worry, you can read it as a standalone). Such a pity it didn't translate in a more enjoyable read: I found myself tired from memorizing the dozens of names at the first third of the book and some jokes were just too forced, like the conversation was put together just to display the joke.

Besides, it lost one star just for the stereotyping. There is a lot of "Italians are like this", "Rhode Islanders should be like that", men this, Catholic that, it was just too much for just a couple hundred of pages. Don't read it if you're usually put away by that. That and the stream of small little dramas that were realistic, but a little off-putting impeded me from enjoying this installment as a whole.

Eu sei porque você está lendo esta resenha.

Você quer saber todas as bagaceiras que a Andressa Urach fez, mas não pode sair por aí com este livro no braço porque isso pode arruinar a sua reputação (já basta o tanto de É o Tchan que você dançou na década de 90). Ou você até pode ser bem resolvido, mas a vida tá difícil, dólar tá quase 4 reais, a Dilma existe e não dá pra gastar 20 e poucos reais em um livro que você quer ler só por curiosidade mórbida.

Então não se aflija, meu caro: poupe seu dinheirinho que eu vou contar tudo. Se tudo é verdade, ou mais um golpe para vender mais livros e sustentar a Andressa agora que ela não é mais garota de programa, é você quem decide.


Andressa teve o primeiro orgasmo com um cachorro. O tal cachorrinho lambia as partes íntimas dela e foi assim que ela gozou pela primeira vez. Na pré-adolescência.

Ela perdeu a virgindade com o irmão. Quando foi morar com o pai, Andressa era sempre acompanhada pelo irmão. Ele era como um "guarda-costas", que protegia a irmã segundo as ordens do pai. Sob a influência de álcool e drogas, os dois cometeram incesto, e esta foi a primeira vez dela. Engraçado foi vê-la se desculpar, como se a culpa fosse dela e de mais ninguém, como se o irmão nunca tivesse consentido.

Ela foi rejeitada pelo pai quando bebê... porque não era loira de olhos azuis. A família Urach tinha uma linhagem de descendentes de alemães com o típico look ariano e Andressa, morena de olhos castanhos, foi rejeitada pelo pai, que não acreditava ser de verdade o pai da garota.

Ela apanhava da mãe. Em um certo episódio, quando a mãe descobriu que Andressa fumava, bateu tanto nela que uma vizinha interviu, com medo de que a mãe a matasse.

Andressa foi vítima de estupro quando criança. O abusador era um "avô de criação" (o pai de um ex-namorado da mãe dela). Andressa não dá mais detalhes além do "ele brincava/introduzia dedos no meu órgão genital" e "pedia para beijar a cabeça do nenê"(ou seja, o pênis dele). Um dia a esposa dele o flagrou de pênis de fora na sala com a Andressa, e por isso pediu à mãe da menina que a mandasse para outra casa. Outra prima também fora abusada.

Como prova do abuso, o livro mostra duas páginas de um diário dela, escrito quando ainda era pré-adolescente. No começo da narrativa, há muitos erros de português, mas de repente a escrita começa a ficar mais elegante e depois volta de novo a ter erros de português. Além do mais, as duas páginas não batem: a primeira página é de 14 de novembro, e a continuação é do dia 17. Senti cheiro de prova fabricada... o que não quer dizer que duvido da história dela, até porque ela disse o nome do abusador em rede nacional e não creio que chegaria a tanto se a história fosse falsa.

Mas que ficou com cheiro de "vamos fazer um diário para corroborar a história só para mostrar no livro", isso ficou. Para mim, o abuso ocorreu de fato, mas o diário é falso.

Ela casou aos 17 anos, mas logo foi abandonada pelo marido. Ela teve que criar o filho pequeno sozinha. Bancando a arrependida, ela diz que a culpa foi toda dela.

... E começou a se prostituir para pagar as contas. No começo, ela só queria ter um dinheiro extra, achando que poderia ir para um cabaré de luxo só para dançar. Na época, ela trabalhava com coordenadora de RH e morava em um cubículo, mas o salário era pouco. Então começou a fazer bicos no final de semana como promotora de eventos, ou seja, era aquelas moças bonitas que vão a festas e lançamentos de produtos. Num desses bicos, uma colega lhe falou que ela poderia ganhar dinheiro só para dançar em cabarés de luxo... e ela foi fazer um teste.

Ela se vestiu de forma simples, com jeans e blusa de botão. Todas as outras mulheres do local, cerca de 200, vestiam roupas curtas e decotadas. Quando estava no bar, esperando para falar com o dono da boate, um homem se aproximou dela e começaram a bater papo. Ela disse que estava ali só para dançar, porque tinha uma dívida a pagar... e ele perguntou de quanto era a dívida. Ela disse que era de mil reais. Ele fez uma proposta: ele lhe daria os mil reais se ela topasse fazer programa... E foi assim que ela supostamente entrou para a prostituição. Acredite se quiser.

Ela fez um cirurgia a cada 3 meses e meio por 4 anos. A obsessão pela beleza, segundo Andressa, nasceu de uma infância e adolescência em que não se sentia amada.

Todas as papagaiadas que ela armou na mídia foram só golpes de publicidade para valorizar seu passe. Ou seja, o concurso Miss Bumbum, posar nua, aparecer pelada em público, os falsos romances lésbicos, o reality show, TUDO não passou de estratégia para fazer o "cachê" dela mais caro. Em um certo ponto, ela cobrou 30 mil reais por hora de sexo.

Ela se dizia "discreta" em relação aos clientes. E era por isso que os jogadores de futebol gostavam dela. Acredite se puder.

Ela não desmente a história sobre Cristiano Ronaldo. Segundo a história toda, ele pegou o número dela por intermédio de outro jogador de futebol. Cristiano supostamente se interessara nela por meio do concurso Miss Bumbum. Os dois se comunicaram pelo WhatsApp e, desde o começo, Andressa viu uma oportunidade para se promover: ela queria tirar uma foto dos dois juntos no hotel e vazar para a imprensa, por isso tirou prints das conversas do WhastApp e chamou um paparazzo para o hotel. Na recepção, ela avisou da presença do paparazzo para não levantar desconfianças.

Durante o sexo, Cristiano se revelou agressivo. Ele desconfiou da armação. Andressa pediu uma foto com ele, mas ele disse que só tiraria foto com ela no saguão, nunca na suíte. Ela desceu e esperou o Cristiano para tirar a foto, mas ele nunca apareceu. Três brutamontes a escoltaram de volta para a suíte e a mantiveram em cárcere privado até que os paparazzi da frente do hotel saíssem. "Por vingança", ela vazou a história.

Ela atendeu uns clientes bem esquisitos. Um galã de novela que gostava de morder a cabeça. Um milionário gaúcho que gostava de apanhar. Outro que se automutilava, chegando a sangrar da cintura para baixo. Um místico vidente que mentia sobre estar fazendo banhos espirituais enquanto assistia TV e comia pipoca.

Andressa tinha prazer em ser a mais odiada do cabaré. Um dia até descobriu uma macumba que fizeram em seu armário. Ela pegou a boneca e gritava para as companheiras que nenhuma macumba a atingiria, porque ela tomava banhos espirituais com sua mãe de santo. Ela eventualmente descobriu quem fez a macumba e saiu no tapa com ela.

E ela ainda conserva uma falta básica de simancol. Na introdução, o autor louva a Andressa com orgulho, como se ela fosse uma estrela internacional, exibindo reportagens de jornais e revistas estrangeiros... como se isso fosse mérito da Andressa e não demérito dos jornais em si.

Thiel is an odd libertarian.

He uses Marx, and compares him to Shakespeare. He criticizes the typical Silicon Valley libertarian... and Athlas Shrugged. His political views seem to come from his years of experience, not whatever political indoctrination is taught at college. But there is not much political theory at this book. Instead, this seems to revolve around technology, and its importance to change the world. Thiel explains that tech is much than IT or engineering, and how founders should act to be successful tech entrepreneurs.

Reading Thiel is like snooping into the mind of someone who sees patterns that no one else see. He compares Lady Gaga to founders when he talks about self-branding. He called Elon Musk a great salesman (oh, how many nerds will revolt reading this.) He talks about Steve Jobs or Bill Gates without falling to fanboy-ism (instead, he sees right through it). He will describe, with details, why some public offices usually suck, without any political speech. He is a no BS man. What else to expect from someone who was a chess master at age 21? Nothing but ruthless logic. My favorite chapter was the one about sales:

I still wonder how many of his advices are applicable to entrepreneurs who live outside a startup hotbed, but calling Zero to One a "business" advice book would only describe 40% of the book. All around, it's a philosophy around man and machine, development, pessimism and optimism, environment and sales. All without the BS.

As any said before, this is an unashamed Kate Middleton's fan fiction. If you have a problem with that, don't read it.

However, if you do decide to ignore it, know you'll miss one of the most compelling and believable MCs of recent chick-lit. Bex Porter, the American girl that gets involved with prince William a British prince, is strong, but not with a superhero complex, on the contrary: she is flawed, messes up royally (no pun intended) sometimes and, although privileged, is not generally spoiled and own her mistakes.

It was interesting to see the world from her eyes, and to be by her side when all the insane scrutiny over her relationship to the Royals landed over her. The glam squad, the believable friendships (and that annoying sister), the escapades, media manipulation, royal scandals. It was like reading a gossip magazine. Can I say something more?

And I thought it was revolting how her friends and family tried to use her for personal gain and, when she rationally said no, she was the selfish one. So, here is a lesson, boys and girls: before asking a favour to someone you see as more privileged, check first if you are the one trying to take an advantage.

For a Hans Christian Andersen, this is bad.

Creative, but there is no message. If you can see sattire in this, you're a better reader than me.

Besides, for modern standards, it is a little too grim for kids.

Read it full here: http://www.bartleby.com/17/3/18.html

1. This is not exactly fiction.

2. It's all about Nigeria.

3. It has a few over 100 pages. You can read it in a day, but I wouldn't recommend. This baby needs to be flavored, not just churned.

Religion, corruption, happiness. Why, if so religious, so little concern for the ethical life or human rights? Why, if so happy, such weariness and stifled suffering?

In my college days, I took Ethics lessons. The professor, a very interesting little man with an international PhD, told us about what was wrong with Brazil. Or why Brazil is so bad. This is a very common question, and every teacher, liberal worker, journalist or pretense intellectual in Brazil has an answer. It was the Portuguese, they said. Or the Catholic church. It is the elite. Capitalism. Socialism. All of those answers reeked of whatever political indoctrination disguised as knowledge they were fed at college. Or by the media. Every single one of them.

So I awaited with eagerness: what does this middle-class law professor with an international PhD could add? He introduced us to Hannah Arendt, and the notion that corruption exists in Brazil because Brazilians have little grasp on what “public” means. Or its differentiation from “private”. In the typical Brazilian mind, a public thing is not something that belongs to all, and to be cherished as it should be used by others, but a public thing is something that is yours for the taking. For you, your family, and friends. And the others could damn themselves. Hence corruption, nepotism, and “social skills” being more important, by a long shot, than merit and personal accomplishments.

I don’t know what Arendt (or my cute professor) would think of Nigeria.

But corruption, in the form of piracy or of graft, also means that most people remain on the margins. The systems that could lift the majority out of poverty are undercut at every turn. Precisely because everyone takes a shortcut, nothing works and, for this reason, the only way to get anything done is to take another shortcut. The advantage in these situations goes to the highest bidders, those individuals most willing to pay money or to test the limits of the law.

Although this is an analysis of the Nigerian culture, and a human recollection of why Nigerians are the way they are, it’s also an empathetic read to anyone living in a country riddled with corruption... like Brazil. Brazilians are stereotypically perceived as happy and celebrative, but it’s only a disguise for the extreme harsh life the usual Brazilian is stuck with. Low wages. Urban violence. The sense of being hostages to criminals. Crowds murdering criminals. The corrupt police. The corrupt public officers. Everything is there in the book, like it was written about us. We accompany a Nigerian coming back to his country after decades living abroad, and many of the situations he put himself there, I found myself in here, too.

But there is more to it than just corruption. Teju is not a proverbial anthropologist, wandering through the community with a finger resting on his chin and the detachment of a scholar. He mixes himself with Nigerian life. He suffers. He seeks comfort in art. And he gives us observational bites of a travel, pieces of story, as we were with him.

I won’t go into details here, as to not spoil it, but don’t expect a work of fiction. Not a dry non-fiction. Everyday is for thief falls happily in between, and the result is lean, smooth, honest and very interesting.


Hey, the photos are pretty nice too.

Do you want an escapist read? With fun dialog, rainbows, lovers with blue eyes and, preferably, a sixpack?

Then don’t read this book.

"In that moment, a whole line of men, older men went past in my head. Their mouths in O shapes, their eyes wandering like hands over some of us unmarried girls.”

“... a woman who dies pregnant or having babies is a sinner”

"Because that is what our lives are […]. We are here for the men."

Yeah, guys, we reached WTF-uckery levels of disturbance. And those quotes are just the tip of the iceberg.

I specially liked this because it doesn’t treat polygamists as animals in a zoo. The MC is one of them after all, and we see the world through her mind, divided between family and duty and the absurdity of it all.

You’ll have to try really hard to feel any shred of hope while reading this novel. Every chapter, everything gets worse, and there is a point where you wonder if this will be “that kind of book” with “that kind of ending”. Of course, I won’t spoil the surprise.

The books are usually funny, but this is really a cut above in terms of hilarity.

Yep. I cried with a kid's book.

Damn, Gillian, you fooled me again.

She is better when she's observational and in characterization than an action writer. Curious that she wrote this for George R. R. Martin, and somehow it shows, because I feel like this could be very interesting if turned into a full length novel, not just a novella.

I'm in pieces.

DNFed at 50%.

If only I didn't know what happened at the ending... until then it's a story of an impoverished man, a classic struggling artist, wandering in the streets with hunger.

Felt very Tropic of Cancer at first, but unlike Miller, the protagonist blames God for all his misery. It is less obscene, less misogynist... but also less interesting than Miller. It feels more like a character study than a story (even though it is), and even if in parts it was emotional, those were too rare to keep me interested.

I HATE THIS BOOK SO MUCH.

But it's a good hate. The kind of hate every interesting author wants to create in sensitive readers.

It's hateful and inevitably GOOD. Just the kind of book I'd love to write someday.

Review to come