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Wrath of the Wendigo by Clay Martin. If you locked Alex Jones and Brad Thor in a room with about fifty pounds of coke and DMT, this is probably what you'd get. Absolute batshit author manifesto in the best possible way, like TRVE ARYAN WARRIORS unlocking ancestral viking berserker memories and casting rune magic battling the globalist cabal of serpent possessed Black Cube of Saturn worshipping secret society elites batshit.

Also apparently this was all revealed to the author by some spirits while in the mountains out west.
 
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Huge wrestling nigger here, so I'm currently reading Bret Harts Hitman. Not bad at all, tells a lot about his family history. After that, might read some dystopia book.
 
Rebel Yell by S.C. Gwynne, about General Thomas Jackson. Incredible book. His other book Empire of the Summer Moon about the Comanches is excellent as well.
 
I read Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon as my yearly doorstopper, and loved it. It's only the second book of his I've read. This one is obviously about slavery and colonialism, but also power and progress and violence and exploitation more broadly, history and myth, rationality and order vs. mysticism and nature. Mason and Dixon's contrasting characters tie into the themes, but their relationship and conversations are just really charming and fun too. The book is also a joy to read on a writing level, as the whole thing is in this beautiful 18th-century style:
Snow-Balls have flown their Arcs, starr’d the Sides of Outbuildings, as of Cousins, carried Hats away into the brisk Wind off Delaware,— the Sleds are brought in and their Runners carefully dried and greased, shoes deposited in the back Hall, a stocking’d-foot Descent made upon the great Kitchen, in a purposeful Dither since Morning, punctuated by the ringing Lids of various Boilers and Stewing-Pots, fragrant with Pie-Spices, peel’d Fruits, Suet, heated Sugar,— the Children, having all upon the Fly, among rhythmic slaps of Batter and Spoon, coax’d and stolen what they might, proceed, as upon each afternoon all this snowy Advent, to a comfortable Room at the rear of the House, years since given over to their carefree Assaults.
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Just finished On Grand Strategy by John Lewis Gaddis.

It is one of the worst things I have ever read in my life, and I've read some absolute bottom of the barrel trash in my time. For a book with such a grandiose title it has nothing on strategy whatsoever other than some basic bitch Clausewitz and Sun Tzu quotes. Its mostly a collection of high school level historical anecdotes which he tris to shoehorn into his own warped view of history. On its own, that would be bad enough but this guy very clearly doesn't understand ancient Greece, doesn't understand Rome and barely understands modern European history. The whole book comes across like a smug midwit high off his own farts weighing in on topics he can barely comprehend. So your run of the mill western University academic.

What's horrifying is that the book cover is plastered with rave reviews from NYT, WaPo etc. and is apparently a bestseller. Jesus fucking Christ.
 
cold comfort said:
I read Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon as my yearly doorstopper, and loved it. It's only the second book of his I've read.
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I really liked this book, although it has a somewhat daunting prose style and doesn't even remotely attempt to dumb itself down. It is probably a trifle trickier to read than Gravity's Rainbow. If it had a theme song it would be "Sailing to Philadelphia" by Mark Knopfler (also about Mason & Dixon).

I had that album on infinite repeat much of the month I read that book.
 
The Scarlet Letter. Read it in high school, was curious if it was actually that bad as I remembered. Turns out it's.. eh.. very slow.
 
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