My Mom gave me a used copy of this book as a stocking stuffer on Christmas Day.

I started reading it on my flight back to Chicago from Boston.

Sarah Vowell was 25 years old and newly-enrolled at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago when she decided to listen to the radio every day for a year and keep a listener's diary.

As she traveled with her class to see earthworks in the Southwest, visited friends in Mississippi and California, and went to see her family in Montana, she tuned into the radio too.

What she produced is a sonic portrait of the United States in 1995.

Newt Gingrich and the Republicans stalled Democratic progress and shut down the government.

More money was spent paying the wages of federal workers each day than the National Endowment for the Arts received that year.

Rush Limbaugh gained ground as the dittohead spokesperson of ignorant Americans.

NPR was losing its edge, becoming the polished, safe, purportedly objective news station that it is today.

Even Pearl Jam may have been sick of hearing their songs played so often.

Vowell is a news junkie.

A good deal of the book is devoted to the flabbergasting stupidity of talk radio.

When she shifts to a station playing music, it's satisfying to see her sift through the sludge and relish the rare, serendipitous moments when sound marries situation.

Regarding musical groups, Vowell repeatedly and eloquently proclaims her love for Nirvana, Neil Young, Hole, The Beatles, Sonic Youth and Beethoven.

She also clearly states her vehement dislike for Bon Jovi, Alanis Morrisette and the Grateful Dead.

Scanning the dial, or staying with one station for awhile, she pinpoints what anyone who prefers the control of playing albums on a stereo or an iPod already knows.

Radio's great for surprise but lousy when it comes to fueling your own obsessions.

That's what recordings are for.

Vowell is also an acute observer of herself and wherever she is.

Her remarks regarding Chicago were particularly interesting to me.

A transplant from San Francisco, she was new to the Midwestern metropolis.

Her slow, grudging love affair with it had me nodding and smirking.

Just as my travels have helped me define what I admire about the Windy City, Vowell's did too.

Each month in the diary is prefaced by a music-related quote from a critic, musician, politician or intellectual.

This one from Vladimir Lenin fascinated me.

Sorry, Vlad. Sometimes the revolution occurs and freedom arrives with "A Day In the Life".

That's why Vonnegut praised The Beatles for making life on Earth more joyous.

Lennon is more important than Lenin.

I recommend this book to any Chicagoan who tunes into the local radio stations, anyone who is interested in an insider's view of NPR, late twentysomethings who would like a slightly older, freethinking art schooler's take on politics, art and music, and anyone for whom these sentences ring true.

"'Like A Rolling Stone' isn't a song. It's an argument for living."

I love Sarah Vowell,

but this really is a bad book. It is whiny, unfocused, sophomoric, and (worst of all) unthoughtful. Throughout the book, she is definitely angry.

Occasionally, if you agree with her (especially about Rush Limbaugh), that anger can be engaging.

But mainly, she is dismissive, which does not make for entertaining reading.

Pick up any of her other books. For example, start with "Shooting Dad" or the story where Ira Glass tries to teach her how to drive.

The feel is completely different. In those stories, and in all of her other books, she can see herself and the other people at the same time.

She views them with the same critical (and appreciative, and sympathetic, and humorous) eye.

The main feeling I get from this book is how much she hated writing it. Whether or not that was really true doesn't matter.

Read any and all of her other books first.

I must admit that I did not have a positive experience with this particular work.

I simply could not bring myself to finish it. It's quite a contrast to all her other books, which I have truly loved.

The Wordy Shipmates, unfortunately, just didn't resonate with me in the same way.

Perhaps it's because of the subject matter. How entertaining can one really make Puritans?

It seems like a difficult task to begin with.

Nevertheless, I respect the author's attempt to bring this historical period and its people to life.

Maybe it's just not the right fit for my personal interests and reading preferences.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that the author has a remarkable talent for writing, as evidenced by her other wonderful works.

I will still look forward to seeing what she comes up with in the future.

Perhaps more like a 2.5 rating.

I checked this out after coming across a Google book preview in my half-hearted search for a spontaneous phone interview done by Jim DeRogatis and Bill Wyman with Courtney Love on Mothers Day 1995 that broadcasted on Chicago's Q101. My own cassette recording of it has been lost to the years.

So there's a discussion of that. I still remember the vocal inflections almost perfectly while reading the quotes. There are also many other interviews. I remember the Billy Corgan ones too. The entries about Q101 and radio during the course of 1995 filled me with an anti-nostalgia. These were the days before streaming, before Napster, before podcasts. But one entry references a radio host predicting that the internet and technology would advance in a few years so anyone could have their own radio show. There was only alternative rock radio, playing the same 4 Pearl Jam songs every hour, and fucking "Black Hole Sun."

And these were the good ol' days, when the only vile conservative talking fathead was Rush Limbaugh. Yet the rhetoric of politics remains scarily unchanged.

I need to read more Sarah Vowell. Her assessment of the Grateful Dead and deadheads was spot on, as well as her indictment of Alanis Morissette compared to PJ Harvey. I would have agreed then, and I definitely agree now. It's interesting to look back on this era and see how much has changed and yet how some things have stayed the same. The music, the media, and the politics all have their own unique characteristics that make this time period both fascinating and a bit of a nostalgia trip, even if it's an anti-nostalgia one for me.

Sarah Vowell undertakes the task of keeping a detailed record of her radio listening for an entire year.

This is indeed an interesting concept, one that has the potential to offer unique insights into the world of radio and her own experiences.

However, unfortunately, the project seems to get bogged down in an excessive amount of MFA angst and the alternascene.

It becomes too preachy, lacking those crucial moments of stark transcendence that have made her other writings so deeply meaningful and engaging.

One can't help but feel that with a bit more focus and a lighter touch, this could have been a truly remarkable exploration of the medium of radio and its impact on our lives.

As it stands, it falls short of the high standards set by Vowell's previous works.

She listens to the radio every day for a year. She spends her time scanning the dial, and then comments on whatever grabs her interest.

First of all, it occurs to me that why didn't I think of this for a book topic? It seems like such a unique and interesting concept.

Secondly, I just got through the difficult days when my mom died. I recognized the current events she was discussing, mainly the death of Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead. I loved when she slammed the band because I could never understand the attraction for those who religiously followed the band from city to city in the psychedelic painted vans.

Now I've finished the book, and here's what I mostly enjoyed about it. Sarah Vowell truly finds her voice in this work.

The first part of the book is not particularly powerful, but as it progresses, by the end, she is beginning to make all kinds of fascinating connections between what we listen to and who we are. It makes you think about the role of music and media in shaping our identities and perspectives.

When I witnessed Sarah Vowell's reading in Pittsburgh several years ago, during the Q&A session, someone inquired about this particular book. She responded with rather disparaging remarks.

She opined that it was unfocused, vitriolic, and somewhat cringe-inducing. Essentially, it serves as a diary chronicling every single bit of radio that Vowell listened to in 1994 – those heady times marked by Rush Limbaugh, "the Republican Revolution," O.J., Newt, Kurt, and Courtney.

I suppose Rush Limbaugh had incited this new wave of radio listening through his rather controversial and divisive tactics. And Vowell's sense of panic is palpable throughout. However, with hindsight being what it is, her alarm now seems almost quaint, to say the least.

Nonetheless, Vowell is one of those essayists whose works I read for the company they provide. I am interested in her perspectives on just about anything – be it Hank Williams, the large-scale folly of a rock and roll hall of fame housed in a clinically modern I.M. Pei facade, or the slick and often mindless nature of corporate radio.

In 1994, I was only 11 years old. Although I didn't yet possess all the critical tools at my disposal, it was sort of my first year to engage with culture on a broader scale, or at least that's how I felt at the time. And this book functions as a time capsule, filled with all the names and notables of that era, some of which seem almost small and charming in the current context.

This is essentially a ranty blog that contains the thoughts of a 20-something about mid-90's radio. It was released as a book because the word 'blog' wasn't popular in 1995.

I don't believe this is particularly edifying in any sense. However, it did strangely make me nostalgic for being a grumpy suburban kid in the 90's.

On a somewhat related note, I only read this book in the bathroom, and it took me a whopping 7 months to finish.

Perhaps it was the leisurely pace of reading in that particular setting that contributed to the extended time it took to complete. Or maybe the content, while not overly profound, had a certain charm that kept me coming back for more.

Regardless of the reason, this book has left an impression on me, reminding me of a bygone era and the simple pleasures of being a disgruntled teenager in the suburbs.

It's a strange and somewhat unexpected journey that I'm glad I took, even if it was a rather unconventional one.

Radio on is Sarah Vowell's diary of a year (1995) filled with eclectic radio listening.

I have a great passion for radio and truly enjoy Sarah Vowell's other books. Considering this, along with the outstanding work she has accomplished on radio, especially on This American Life, it initially seems like a wonderful combination. However, it turns out not to be the case.

She has not yet discovered her unique writing voice. I really appreciate her later works. In this book, at times she strikes an interesting or amusing tone, while at other times she misses the mark completely.

Moreover, the format doesn't truly do justice to her abilities. By bouncing around between stations, the book becomes disjointed. Interesting storylines, such as Glass' transition from the Wild Room to This American Life, are only slightly explored.

If you are a die-hard fan of Sarah, you might still find some enjoyment in this. But overall, it is not really recommended.

In 1995, when Sarah Vowell penned Radio On, she was a 25-year-old urban art student who had just emerged from her college radio immersion. Meanwhile, I, a 21-year-old urban art student, was still deeply engaged in college radio. Not surprisingly, then and now, I largely concur with the viewpoints she presents regarding political, social, and musical matters.

I bring this up merely to bolster myself a little before promptly dismissing her memoir as an unceasingly whiny and cynical display of petulance. Vowell writes with an air of superiority that can only stem from a twenty-something, specifically a twenty-something who we would now label as a "hipster," but in 1995, I suppose we called an "indie kid." It seems that everyone except Sarah is incorrect about journalism, art, government, and you'd better firmly believe that they're wrong about which records to listen to.

To be fair, Radio On does accurately capture what it was like to be a cynical indie kid in the world of 1995. I was one of them. However, that simply means the book is one long eye roll, and 17 years later, it feels as inconsequential as a freshman term paper.

A sometimes-deep, usually-entertaining diary of a year in the life of a radio listener.

This is the third book I've read this summer that deals extensively with the death of Kurt Cobain.

I liked it but was not overwhelmed with love for it. The author's writing style is engaging, and the details about the radio listener's experiences and thoughts are quite interesting. However, I found that the constant focus on Kurt Cobain's death became a bit tiresome after a while.

Despite this, the book does offer some unique perspectives on the impact of Cobain's death on popular culture and the music industry. It also explores the role of radio in shaping our musical tastes and identities.

Overall, it's a decent read, but not one that I would highly recommend. If you're a die-hard Kurt Cobain fan or have a particular interest in the history of radio, then you might enjoy it more than I did.

I have an intense admiration for Sarah Vowell. She is precisely the kind of writer whom I wish I could have with me at all times, as if carried around in my pocket. However, this particular book, "A Listener's Diary," was one of the most challenging ones for me to get through.

It details a whole year, from the beginning to the end of 1995, documenting what she heard on the radio during that time. I graduated from high school and embarked on my college journey in 1995, and it's a year that I recall with remarkable vividness. I immersed myself in all that music, devoured every news article I could lay my hands on, and passionately debated the political issues of the day, perhaps more fervently than I have ever done since. (I was frequently singled out for current events debates in my 12th grade history class.)

Surprisingly, nothing seems to have changed. We still have Rush Limbaugh and his devoted followers, Newt Gingrich, the ongoing saga of health care reform, Republicans seemingly holding Congress hostage, the specter of domestic terrorism, and stalemates over the national debt - all of it remains the same. Even the reporters and programs on NPR are largely unchanged (although Ira Glass wasn't quite the household name back then). It's a difficult read, but it's probably of great importance, especially for those who don't remember that year as clearly as I do.