İlkokul Müzik Öğretim Programları (1913-2005) ücretsiz kitap indir

Conor Whooley whooleycmc60f — Wow. It’s so hard to know where to start with this review, because this is one of those books to end all books. Where to go from here? I don’t have a lot of postapocalyptic fiction to compare it to, but it comes at it from such a poetic, intimate, necessarily personal angle that it overshadows anything of its kind in recent memory. It’s like the dreams I had post-911, but fleshed out in quotidian detail, fleshed out to the nth degree, and then some. It’s the kind of book that makes me stop wishing my husband would finish painting the bathroom because it doesn’t really matter – it destroys any remnant of materialism. But despite its all-encompassing bleakness, the love at its center reminds me to spend an extra couple of minutes with a student, a fellow teacher, a friend. It makes everything that’s important matter more, and everything that’s not important matter less. It’s death, but death with a lyrical understanding of the human condition. While it tramples on the fragility of our ideals, it offers an often unimaginable hope in the midst of unimaginable devastation. Does that sound trite? Yes. But this book is anything but trite. Lyrical to a fault in a few places? Sure, but those places are minimal, and I think he earned them b/c what else would we be left to think about at the end of human existence, once the bare-knuckled survival instincts have been met? And did I mention that it’s immensely readable? I can’t imagine being inside Cormac McCarthy’s mind while he crafted this. Either a purging or a sacrifice. Either way, we are the better for it.