34 Books Like Of Foreign Build

The Motion of the Ocean has been a longtime favorite sailing memoir of mine, not in the least because I read it during my own sailing years and felt connected to the author.

I appreciate her humorous, honest, conversational, and compelling writing style and love the title of the book, which inspired me to keep adventuring by sailboat and even to write my own memoir.

The narrative focuses on Janna and her husband’s relationship on a small boat in a remote area of the world. It’s a story not unlike mine in regards to relationship idiosyncrasies, the Pacific territory, the couple’s ages, and some of their experiences.

Janna was a teacher in a previous life as well and shares my love for travel and writing. This is an entertaining, well-written book.

Tightwads on the Loose is another honest and well-written account of a couple’s ups and downs, in this case while cruising in the Pacific for seven years; only one year less than my husband and I traveled on our sailboat.

This enticing story also has a lot of parallels with my life: the couple’s age, their sense of adventure, their frugal means, their full-time commitment to their boat for many years, their need to make money, and some of the geographical and cultural experiences. Recognizing experiences and personality traits while reading this book made me enjoy it better.

Luckily, Wendy and her partner did not have to endure numerous dramatic life-altering events. Tightwads on the Loose is an easy-to-read sailing memoir that I highly recommend. 

Love with a Chance of Drowning had been recommended to me for a while, but I only recently dove in.

One of the reasons was the high price for the eBook, undoubtedly because this is a traditionally published memoir. And, what can I say? I adored this well-crafted love story set on a small sailboat crossing the Pacific Ocean, sprinkled with fearful and heartfelt incidents.

Torre is a fabulous writer, who pulls you into the narrative. She is witty, sarcastic, smart, straightforward, and doesn’t shy away from sharing personal insights, flaws, and brutal honesty, a touted aspect of my book as well.

The author used the present tense to impart a sense of urgency (it’s a wonderful tool to keep you turning the pages) and focused on the connection, strength, and commitment that is needed to rescue her relationship. This is one of the most skillfully written and compelling… show more.

While I enjoyed reading One Girl One Dream and have unconventional ideas like the author, I’m torn about a child sailing the world instead of going to school.

Laura sailed single-handedly around the world when she was 14, finishing at 16. This fascinating achievement made her the youngest circumnavigator in the world. 

The first chapter is a page turner; the subsequent ones are written like a diary. I am usually not a fan of this style, but because her story remains an exciting and courageous feat from beginning to end, it kept me wanting to learn more. It was also fun to read Dutch words and traditions, because I grew up in Belgium. 

I wouldn’t call Laura’s memoir a high-quality narrative or good writing, but it held my attention and that means something for this picky reader.

Paul B. Preciado’s Testo Junkie, originally published in Spanish in 2008 and republished in English translation in 2013, is lusty, hyperbolic, and explosive.

It’s part postqueer, trans-feminist manifesto, part record of a cis-female’s illicit experimentation with testosterone, and part explicit fucking. A much more enjoyable book than Judith Butler’s groundbreaking Gender Trouble and Bodies that Matter, and it has the advantage of updating Butler’s Foucault-based theory with the twenty-first-century concerns.

Preciado argues that today’s “pharmacopornographic” regime utilizes drugs and erotic imagery—hormone shots and money shots—to control our subjectivity and gender, instating a system of knowledge and power in which the body “no longer inhabits disciplinary spaces but is inhabited by them.”

We all think testosterone is the ‘male hormone’–it’s what makes men, well, men. It’s what is measured to decide who is a woman in the Olympics, and it is injected or ingested by some people to become more masculine. But ‘T,’ as this book and many others refer to it, is not as straightforwardly any of the things we think it is–all of these views of T come from how society and ideology have constructed it, sometimes in contradiction to clear fact.

Across 223 detailed but surprisingly engaging pages, the authors show how T has been mythologized and misunderstood, and moreover how these myths and misunderstandings have affected not just popular conceptions of T and masculinity, but the very science of T, as well.

This final book in the Jas Anderson trilogy sees Jas investigating a murder and a case of police corruption, but there is so much more: sectarian rivalry, harsh city life, a grieving mother, a revengeful wife, suffering children, and my two favourite gay protagonists, Jas himself and the ever-unstable Stevie. There’s a lot of testosterone on show. Explicit sex abounds, but it is never included for effect. It’s born of need and, sometimes, love. It never repels me. The conversation is in Glasgow dialect. Please don’t let that deter you: this story is powerful. Last pages count, and Some Kind of Love has a perfect ending.

I have always thought that we desperately need to hear from transmen and transwomen to help distinguish the effects of biological sex from those of cultural gender conditioning—more specifically, to illuminate both the influence of our respective high levels of estrogen or testosterone) and, in a word, sexism. Using interviews with transmen, Schilt very much does the latter. Consider this book a thorough precursor (2010) to the much-publicized experiences of Martin and Nicole (Google it); Martin concludes, about his experience being treated as Nicole, "It sucked." Indeed. (And the surprise experienced by so many transmen at their post-trans experiences supports the view that most women have no idea how easy men have it.)

Much of this book by two psychologists covers familiar ground and some may find their explanation for what they found unpersuasive, but get this: When they brought white male undergraduates into the laboratory on a pretext and called them "asshole," Northern subjects laughed it off or ignored it, but Southern ones bristled. Subsequent tests showed that the Southerners had heightened blood levels of stress-related hormones and testosterone, but the Northerners did not. Moving the study of the South’s “culture of violence” to the physiological level was a remarkable achievement, but hardly anyone seems to have noticed.

I was trying hard not to rename an author in this exercise. But I admittedly failed. Sides does it again with The Wide, Wide Sea, an enthralling narrative on the final voyage of Capt. James Cook.

The author wastes no time putting me on the deck of the Resolute, Cook’s ship, for his third and final journey, as he and the crew sail to the Polynesian islands, Hawaii, up near the top of the earth and back to Hawaii–where he meets his demise. Even though you’re aware of the outcome, you can’t help but flip through pages with growing intensity, yearning to see how, exactly, this respected British admiral becomes the target of native hostility. Sides delivers.