Existence maybe absurd but it is these little happy accidents that masquerade as destiny that make life livable.Stretching between these figures is a cast of artists, writers, and scientists-mostly women, mostly queer-whose public contribution has risen out of their unclassifiable and often heartbreaking private relationships to change the way we understand, experience, and appreciate the universe. I cannot thank Prakhar enough for leading me to this book, but at the same time I believe that I read it only when I was best suited to appreciate it. I was recommended this book by a dear student but I sat on it for months, and abandoned it after reading only a couple of pages another time, before finally letting myself be swept by the force that Figuring is. Maybe books find their readers on their own, and we, who review and recommend books, only flatter ourselves in thinking that we played any role at all. That’s why I’m not really going to push this book on my friends, not going to recommend this to just about everyone. It’s almost painful to imagine that this magnum opus, that is clearly the output of a lifelong labor of love, won’t be appreciated by everyone. It’s those people I’m afraid of, on behalf of the book. Having said that, I also know that this book is not for everyone I’m sure there are people who couldn’t finish it, found it too long-winded and philosophical or found the connections drawn across millennia to be standing on flimsy grounds.

Maria Popova is a genius, and I doubt whether the world deserves her. I can’t begin to describe it’s impact on me. Suffice to say that it’s my new favourite book, and easily one of the finest I have ever had the privilege to read. I will not, I cannot, use them to talk about work such as this. They do no justice to the magic contained between the yellow covers. My words seem small, ugly, measly, thoroughly inadequate. It seems that such a gift, of reading and appreciating the treasure that it is, can’t be something that is indiscriminately given to just anyone! Maybe those who are intended for it, will find it. Attempting to analyse their beauty can only take away from their splendor. After all there are some things that are best left untouched, unsullied. I let myself feel the tussle between wanting to tell everyone everything that is great about this book on the one hand and just letting things be on the other. I finished it earlier this week, and then sat with my trepidation for a couple of days.

I’m supposed to review this book like I do for every book I read, hence the title, but I don’t want to write a review for this particular book I can’t. This is not a book review despite what the title says.

Figuring maria popova review