Scan barcode
liralen's review against another edition
5.0
Fire taps something ancient and vital in each of us, something both snarling and reverential. Fire harkens back to our wilder selves, the parts we let out only when we think no one is looking. (69)
Rather like [b:Zac Unger|676750|Working Fire The Making of an Accidental Fireman|Zac Unger|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1309284064s/676750.jpg|662748], Paul was an unlikely firefighter: from a white-collar background; educated at Stanford; in graduate school. Female. Like Unger, Paul came to firefighting by accident—in Unger's case, his mother persuaded him to apply; in Paul's case, she took on the application as something of a challenge. The San Francisco Fire Department had gotten a lot of bad press and (not unrelatedly) wasn't particularly welcoming to women or minorities. How, Paul asks, did an institution that stands for courage and self-sacrifice get such a terrible reputation? (55–56) And yet—in she went, and in she stayed, at least long enough to find her niche.
Unlike Unger, finding a niche didn't wipe away all of Paul's concerns. Oh, I liked Unger's book quite a lot; in both cases you have qualified, thoughtful writers who happen to be (or have been) firefighters, and that's worth a lot. But Paul is both less angsty about her place in it all and more critical, talking about second-guessing her instincts, for example, to hold the hand of a nursing home patient, because if a male firefighter did so it would be seen as kind but if a female firefighter did so it would be seen as weak.
Maybe Paul was never going to be satisfied with being solely a firefighter (or, for that matter, solely a filmmaker or solely a writer), but even if it was initially largely a score to settle (with herself? with sexism? with the people saying 'can't'?), well, she owned that challenge. Excellent book.
Random quotations that pleased me:
[Cooking] remains my least favorite part of the job, but I am no longer so anxious. I am still fairly useless, and stick to a painfully narrow list of tried-and-true meals. If I am particularly stressed, I have no qualms about taking shortcuts that [another firefighter] would find blasphemous. Instead of making sauces or salad dressings, I buy them. If I feel energetic, I may try to hide the cans or bottles. I pour the product into a bowl and place it on the counter as if it were my own. One day, with time running out before dinner, I took the thirteen heads of lettuce I needed for salad and, after running water over them, threw them into the washing machine.
They were spun dry in no time. The tart, tingly taste of fabric softener was only barely discernible. People do not expect much from my meals, so they did not mention it. (155)
Of course, traditions die hard. I once found a hay fork in the bowels of Truck 53. The tiller operator shrugged when I held it up to him. He said it was used long ago when the horses were here (and as the last horses retired in 1921, it was a very long time ago). No one had bothered to remove it. "It's good for stuff," he said vaguely, and we put it back. Tradition is both the cornerstone and the lodestone of the San Francisco Fire Department. (223)
Original review written February 2016; edited to fix a typo August 2016.
Rather like [b:Zac Unger|676750|Working Fire The Making of an Accidental Fireman|Zac Unger|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1309284064s/676750.jpg|662748], Paul was an unlikely firefighter: from a white-collar background; educated at Stanford; in graduate school. Female. Like Unger, Paul came to firefighting by accident—in Unger's case, his mother persuaded him to apply; in Paul's case, she took on the application as something of a challenge. The San Francisco Fire Department had gotten a lot of bad press and (not unrelatedly) wasn't particularly welcoming to women or minorities. How, Paul asks, did an institution that stands for courage and self-sacrifice get such a terrible reputation? (55–56) And yet—in she went, and in she stayed, at least long enough to find her niche.
Unlike Unger, finding a niche didn't wipe away all of Paul's concerns. Oh, I liked Unger's book quite a lot; in both cases you have qualified, thoughtful writers who happen to be (or have been) firefighters, and that's worth a lot. But Paul is both less angsty about her place in it all and more critical, talking about second-guessing her instincts, for example, to hold the hand of a nursing home patient, because if a male firefighter did so it would be seen as kind but if a female firefighter did so it would be seen as weak.
Maybe Paul was never going to be satisfied with being solely a firefighter (or, for that matter, solely a filmmaker or solely a writer), but even if it was initially largely a score to settle (with herself? with sexism? with the people saying 'can't'?), well, she owned that challenge. Excellent book.
Random quotations that pleased me:
[Cooking] remains my least favorite part of the job, but I am no longer so anxious. I am still fairly useless, and stick to a painfully narrow list of tried-and-true meals. If I am particularly stressed, I have no qualms about taking shortcuts that [another firefighter] would find blasphemous. Instead of making sauces or salad dressings, I buy them. If I feel energetic, I may try to hide the cans or bottles. I pour the product into a bowl and place it on the counter as if it were my own. One day, with time running out before dinner, I took the thirteen heads of lettuce I needed for salad and, after running water over them, threw them into the washing machine.
They were spun dry in no time. The tart, tingly taste of fabric softener was only barely discernible. People do not expect much from my meals, so they did not mention it. (155)
Of course, traditions die hard. I once found a hay fork in the bowels of Truck 53. The tiller operator shrugged when I held it up to him. He said it was used long ago when the horses were here (and as the last horses retired in 1921, it was a very long time ago). No one had bothered to remove it. "It's good for stuff," he said vaguely, and we put it back. Tradition is both the cornerstone and the lodestone of the San Francisco Fire Department. (223)
Original review written February 2016; edited to fix a typo August 2016.
tonitrap's review against another edition
4.0
I used to live near a fire station in SF. I often wondered if there were any female firefighters in the house. In a handful of years, I never did see a one. Years later, I found out that my first college roommate had become a firefighter. I was interested in this book because, well, I generally think that women who fight fires for a living are pretty badass. Caroline Paul was one of the first to do it in SF. Fighting Fire tells the story of how Paul left her ivy-league educated, destined for white collar professionalism world to become a firefighter in SF. It's a truly interesting story and she tells it well. Some of the parts detailing the technical aspects of firefighting dragged a bit, but for the most part, the book was quite interesting, if not a bit difficult to stomach in parts. And, quite interesting was the way in which Paul and the other women had to navigate the complicated old boys network that was definitely not too keen on opening its doors to women. At the heart of the story is Paul's journey to overcome fear - battling fires, sexism, her own head...etc. All in all, a quick and interesting read.
rhodered's review
3.0
I picked up this book because I went to high school with the author's sister, but it won its place in my library on its own merits.
More...