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"Our Polyvagal World" is an accessible and thought-provoking exploration of the polyvagal theory and its implications for trauma, safety, and social connection. Written for a general audience, the book explains complex neuroscience concepts in a way that is clear and engaging without oversimplifying the science. The authors do a great job of reinforcing key ideas without feeling repetitive, making this an excellent read for anyone interested in understanding how our nervous system shapes our experiences.

One of the most striking takeaways from the book is its perspective on trauma: trauma isn’t about the event itself but about how our nervous system responds to it. This explains why two people can go through the same situation but react completely differently—our nervous systems are wired uniquely. The book also challenges the idea that trauma must stem from a singular, catastrophic event. Instead, trauma can result from an accumulation of smaller stressors over time, which I found eye-opening. Additionally, the authors emphasize that trauma isn't just psychological... it has a physical imprint on the body, shaping how we see, hear, and even interpret the world around us.

Another key concept is that our nervous system doesn’t care about logic—it responds to whether we feel safe. The book explains how our physiological state influences our perception, meaning that anxiety and stress can literally shape what we see and hear. This made me reflect on the ways everyday stressors (like traffic, doomscrolling, or even working under constant surveillance) can subtly create an ongoing sense of unease.

The book also highlights the profound importance of social connection, explaining that humans are wired for interaction. Studies show that strong social support networks contribute to happiness, better health, and even longevity. This resonated with me because I’ve noticed how much better I feel after social events, like my book club. The science behind this reinforces the idea that socializing isn’t just a luxury—it’s a biological necessity.

Reading "Our Polyvagal World" also made me reconsider my perfectionism. While I’ve long recognized that it causes stress, the book helped me realize that my perfectionism is actually an attempt to create a sense of safety. By structuring every part of my life into routines and spreadsheets, I’m subconsciously trying to shield myself from unpredictability. Of course, this strategy isn’t entirely effective, but understanding why I do it gives me a new perspective on how to work with my nervous system rather than against it.

Overall, "Our Polyvagal World" offers a fascinating look at how our nervous system shapes our experiences, emotions, and interactions. It’s a great read for anyone interested in trauma, mental health, or simply understanding why we feel the way we do.

"Fault Lines: A History of the United States Since 1974" is a smart, accessible exploration of America’s political, cultural, and social divisions from the aftermath of Watergate to the present. I intentionally read it after "We Should Have Seen It Coming: From Reagan to Trump" because both books cover the same era. While "We Should Have Seen It Coming" focuses on the rise of populist politics in the White House, "Fault Lines" shifts the lens to the grassroots level. It dives deep into how pop culture both shapes and is shaped by politics, revealing the interconnectedness of media, society, and governance.

One of my biggest takeaways from this book is that America’s intense divisiveness is nothing new. We’ve been arguing—loudly—over income inequality, racial division, gender roles, and sexual norms for decades. Every new form of communication has simply given us a new platform for these battles, from postal mail to radio, cable TV, the Internet, and now social media.

What I appreciated most about "Fault Lines" is how it balances being intellectually rigorous without feeling overly academic. The authors review major historical events briefly but meaningfully, then examine how each ripple affected political and social life. It’s nonfiction history done right: thoughtful, engaging, and highly relevant.

A passage near the end: "...[T]he end result of the new wave of political mobilization is still unseen. Perhaps these processes, now largely a mechanism of protest, will turn into avenues toward democratic compromise and the resolution of the many questions that have pushed Americans apart since the time that Richard Nixon stepped down from office."

Reading this book was a mixed bag emotionally. I learned a lot, politically and socially, and it gave me a greater understanding of how we got to where we are today. But it also made me realize that America has never done the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do. All of our progress has come through struggle. Every inch has been fought for. It’s exhausting to reflect on, but I can only hope the fight continues to be worth it.

"Like a Love Story" is a heartfelt, powerful novel set in 1989 New York City, a time when the AIDS crisis loomed large over the gay community. The story follows three teens—Reza, Judy, and Art—as they navigate friendship, love, and identity. Reza, an Iranian boy new to the city, struggles with accepting his sexuality amidst the fear and stigma surrounding AIDS. He befriends Judy, an aspiring fashion designer, and her best friend Art, an out-and-proud activist and photographer.

As a gay man who came out in the late '90s, I was "fortunate" to have missed the peak of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, but the shadow of it still lingered. Sex and intimacy came with a scary asterisk, I lost friends to HIV complications, and the stigma and occasional violence toward LGBTQ+ people were still very real. Reading this book brought back a flood of memories—both good and bad. It reminded me of the fear, the courage, and the resilience of those who lived through that time. But more personally, it was a reflection of my own journey, a reminder of how far I’ve come from my scared, young self trying to find his place in the world.

Nazemian captures the rawness of that era with honesty and tenderness. The characters felt authentic, and their struggles were relatable. That said, I did find that the narrative voices of Reza, Judy, and Art lacked distinction. While the point of view shifted from chapter to chapter, their voices felt too similar. There were also some pacing issues: certain parts of the story felt rushed or overstated. But then again, it’s a story about teenagers, and their emotions are often "over the top."

One passage that stood out to me was: "You are not alone and never will be, because you have a beautiful, constantly evolving history full of ghosts who are watching over you, who are proud of you... Tell your story until it becomes woven into the fabric of our story. Write about the joys and the pain and every event and every artist who inspires you to dream. Tell your story, because if you don't, it could be wiped out. No one tells our stories for us."

This resonated deeply, both as a reminder of the importance of sharing our stories and as a tribute to the generations who came before us.