My favourite activity

My favourite activity is to sit in Starbucks (or any cafe for the matter) with a cup of soy latte (or chai, or tea) and read novels. It’s a time for me to immerse myself in the plot, be it a murder in Aristotelian Athens, or a wild-goose chase for an ancient relic, or simply a plot where nothing much happens. It’s bliss to me. To just wile away time in my own world, occasionally watching the world go by … nothing makes me happier than this. When I read, I am often oblivious to the world, and I think there’s no better way to get away from the tosh of everyday life.

A couple of years ago before there was free Wifi at Starbucks, I’d see more books on tables than laptops, and it would bemuse me to no end trying to snoop at people’s book choices. Nowadays, I see more laptops on tables, leeching off the power supply at Starbucks, and I feel rather disappointed at not being about to look at what people are reading. This other day I was at Starbucks and I saw that one lady holding Atwood’s The Blind Assassin and I felt this insane urge to tell her that’s a good book. Alas, since I am not a socialising creature, I kept my silence and continued to read my murder mystery.

I really look forward to my next Starbucks reading outing.

Holy Grail Conspiracy

I’ve recently been reading quite a lot of holy grail and Christianity conspiracy novels. And I’d have to say, they make some sense. Not in terms of the existence of some relic, or bloodline, but how they view religion.

There is one particular book, The Templar Legacy by Steve Berry that mentions how the entire Christian faith is predicated on rising from the dead. It is that precise moment where the son of God came back that people believed that he’s not a quack. Sure, he’s done his share of miracles, but non-believers wrote these miracles off as witchcraft, magic, that shouldn’t be performed. But coming back from the dead is different. And so the bottomline is, what if he didn’t come back from the dead after all? That it is all the wishful thinking of the apostles, or even worse, mistranslation from Old Hebrew?

And then there’s Kathleen McGowan’s The Expected One which revolves about how Mary Magdalene is, and should be considered an apostle of Christ because she was one of those who watched him die, and the first to watch him rise from the dead. Yet the Church and human authority wrote her off as a prostitute. What if Kathleen McGowan is right, that there is a conspiracy? Not the one about bloodline, but the one about how the Bible as we know today is a pure construct of man? What if it isn’t meant to be?

And I just finished finished Matthew Reily’s Seven Ancient Wonders at 1.30am this morning. It isn’t strictly what I would consider Holy Grail literature, but it is certain every bit a relic novel. This book mainly involves the seven ancient wonders of the world, and midway Reilly had to crack Da Vinci Code jokes (in his own word) and make links to the Christian faith. Although a little incredulous, but according to this novel, Catholics are sun worshippers. How when Christians say Amen it actually means Amun which is one of the gods of ancient Egypt. Well, Egyptian Orthodox Christians maybe?

Nonetheless, these books are great fun to read. The adventure, the globe-trotting, the amazing amount of information the protagonists store in their heads … I know atas literature students and arty farters scorn these books. I think they themselves are in denial about reading for pleasure.

The Expected One

Synopsis: Two thousand years ago, in the French Pyrenees, Mary Magdalene hid a gospel that contained her own version of the events and characters of the New Testament. Protected by supernatural forcers, these sacred scrolls could be uncovered only by a special seeker, one who fulfills the ancient prophecy of l’attendue - the Expected One. When journalist Maureen Paschal begins the research for a new book, she has no idea that she is stepping into a an ancient mystery so secret, so revolutionary, that thousands of people have killed and died for it. As the eerie prophecy of The Expected One casts a shadow over her life and work, a long-buried family secret comes to light. Ultimately she, and the reader, come face-to-face with Jesus, Mary Magdalene, John the Baptist, Judas and Salome in the pages of a deeply moving new gospel, the life of Jesus as told by Mary Magdalene.

Some of you may know how much I enjoy reading Grail novels. This book was no exception, for I read through it in 2 sittings (because I had to relocate after I finished by Starbucks latte - seats were too hard for my liking). The suspense build-up is not as strong as The Da VInci Code, because they run around less. Most of the time they sat around to uncover secret societies and ancient mysteries. This book doesn’t take readers on a wild goose chase, so I reckon that is good, although certain chapters have been too … unmoving and static for my liking.

This books presents a few good arguments. Some of which I remember: (1) If an apostle by the church’s standard is one who witnessed the fall and rise of Christ, then Mary Magdalene (M.M) is the ONLY legitimate apostle because she was the first person Christ appeared to after he came back from the dead. (2) According to culture of the people during that era, the person who washes and prepares the body for burial is usually the wife of the deceased, and in this case, M.M washes the body of Christ. (3) Translation of the Bible and gospels were done in an ethnocentric manner; some were translated from Greek to Latin to English, and during that process words were mashed and mistranslated. For example, what meant “do not cling on to me” (as said by Christ to M.M after he came back) but is often translated as “do not touch me”. These two words have very different connotations.

I really liked the part where the journalist (Paschal) wrote a book called HerStory to give mouthpiece to important women in history, such as Marie Antionette, who never said “let them eat cake”. It’s quite refreshing and it makes a lot of sense. And I liked a line, which goes something like, “history is not what happened, but what was written down.” History is biased, and we should never take anything as face value.

Also, one interesting this I learnt about this book is that Da Vinci actually painted two versions of Madonna on the Rocks. Now one is in London, and one in the Louvre. There are differences in the two paintings, and this book has capitalised in those differences and tagged ideological value to them. Whether Da Vinci had intended them that way, we’ll never know but it’s fun to see how people can read that much into paintings.

I would recommend this book if you enjoy Grail fictions. Visit the official website here.

Shopping Spree

I didn’t manage to get the shoes I wanted because they’ve run out of my size. So I decided to spend my budget on yet more books instead. Well, shoes and books both take me places, and books, unlike shoes, can take me places I can’t go. (Now that sounds rather philosophical). Also, Times Bookstore was having 30% discount for members, so what better time to buy all the recently published books? I don’t ever pay full prices for books; I always wait for discounts and sales, so I’m really happy for this sale! I’ve never seen a 30% off sale in bookstores, only warehouse sales where the books aren’t current. So, I went sort of overboard my purchase.

What I bought over the past week:

1. The Painter of Shanghai, Jennifer Cody Epstein
2. The Pillars of the Earth, Ken Follett
3. Burning Bright, Tracy Chevalier
4. Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
5. The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales
6. Bloody Chamber, Angela Carter
7. Gulliver’s Travels, Jonathan Swift
8. Atomised, Michel Houellebecq
9. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
10. Macbeth (Penguin thrift edition)

I am very proud of myself for NOT buying any grail-hunting novels. I have decided I can easily get those at the library, since they are about as mass-market as chicklit. My friend Angela called these “high literature”, well, what better things to adorn my bookshelf with? Surely, I’ll read them in time to come.

Anyway, I saved $35 because of the 30% discount (so you can simply calculate how much these books are worth; it’s the same price as that pair of Guess shoes on sale.) In retrospect, I would buy 10 books over a pair of expensive shoes any day. Heck, I’d rather be given 10 books over a pair of shoes too.

And this afternoon I was telling Andy that I’m going to get Ben books as a horribly horribly belated birthday present (or rather, horribly horribly early present for next year; depending on how you see it) and Andy made a comment about how books are the toughest things to choose for someone. I guess that’s partly true, but it also depends on how well you know the person’s reading habits (if any) and whether said person enjoys surprises. I’m one of surprises; even though I dish out a list of books I want for my birthday each year, I wouldn’t mind if I received books that are not within that list. Whether it is a title I wanted or not, a “surprise” gift like that would tell me what the giver thinks I would like. They may be horribly off target, but then again, as a person who reads just about anything, I wouldn’t cringe, unless if I’ve already read it, or if I already own it. So there. My point is, books are like any other presents; it should ideally represent my perceptions of the recipient.

Anyway, the 30% discount is over, but 20% for non-members will continue till 8 June.

The Fantastic Mr Wani

I got this book for my niece for her birthday. The Fantastic Mr. Wani. I guess the reason is obvious, isn’t it? My friend and I always entertained the thought of shouting “WANNI” at me in the middle of a crowded Tokyo street to invite attention. Oh well.

So this book is quite funny, it’s about how Mr. Crocodile is trying to get to a party on time and on the way he falls and trips and rolls and flies about. Eventually he gets to the party on time. I guess the moral of the story is, always leave the house in advance with time to spare.

My Bookshelf

So, pictures of my new bookcase.

I ran out of space in my room, so I can only place my bookcase just beside the door. And since it doesn’t come with doors, I got my mum to make a piece of curtain to cover the books from dust.

So far I’ve only filled half of the total number of shelves (and really, only half the total number of my novels are out here.) I can’t decide how I want to arrange them, so I got pissed off and stopped arranging. So far, the top shelf is what I call “Asian and Ex-Soviet Country Lit”, which contain things from Chinese writers, Russian writers, and even Albanian writers. The second shelf is the “Murder and Mystery Lit” shelf, containing writers like Kathy Reichs, Greg Iles, etc. (My sister’s book case has a “Tess Gerritsen” shelf; can’t see why she’s a fan of that horrible writer.) And the third shelf is the “Dead Authors” shelf, which has things like Dickens, Bronte, Austen … and the fourth shelf is a bunch of miscellaneous works I don’t know where to put (which is why I got pissed off). There stands a lone copy of Harry Potter (I think it’s Deathly Hallows), Middlesex, Where Lost Things Go, Eat, Shoots and Leaves, etc.

I have half the heart to mix up genres and just file in an alphabetical order by author name. Ack.

On writing inconsequential novels

Today I was just telling a friend that it’s pretty easy to write an inconsequential novel where nothing happens, because all one has to do is to be careful with his words and just write whatever that comes to mind. It’s getting published that is hard. But I guess if one can make his book sound arty-farty enough, publishers and reviewers will sanction it. And then I was saying that it’s pretty hard to write one of those grail-chasing novels (that I get duped into buying at every book sale, no doubt) because as an author one would have to keep up with the rest of the grail-writers so that one doesn’t get accused of plagiarism. And on a larger level, I think it’s quite phenomenal to be able to churn out 34861294381 grail chasing stories with the same schema, just different artifact, era, and characters.

So there. Just a little tidbit on what I think about the books I read.

Book loot (edit)

I passed by this outdoor bazaar held by Carrefour at Plaza Singapura and I saw an amazing sign : Books $5.
I hurried over and grabbed 4.

1. The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure, Adam Williams
2. Glass Soup, Jonathan Carroll
3. Who’s Who in Hell, Robert Chalmers
4. Bones to Ashes, Kathy Reichs

Have I failed to emphasize I love cheap book sales? I haven’t gone to a warehouse sale for some time, and I was getting annoyed at the increased prices of novels due to the increased tax. An average paperback novel will set me back at least $17, and with 10% discount, that’s still at least $15+. At those warehouse sales, I can easily nab novels at $5 or 3 for $10. Sure, the titles aren’t current or popular, but nonetheless I will always find something I like (and I can always find a Kathy Reichs or Lisa Scottoline in the pile.)

[edit] Today (21/03/200 I went to the Times Books warehouse sale at the Expo! I nabbed the following books:

1. Spring Flowers, Spring Frost by Ismail Kadare (3 for SGD10)
2. Splintered Icon by Bill Napier (3 for SGD10)
3. The Facts behind the Helsinki Roccamatios by Yann Martel (3 for SGD10)
4. Oh, Play That Thing by Roddy Doyle (SGD4)
5. Dark Fire by C.J. Sansom (SGD6)
6. China Lake by Meg Gardiner (SGD4)
7. The Fahrenheit Twins by Michel Faber (SGD6)

So, all in all, I grabbed 11 books for $50 within 2 days. I’m brimming with joy. Now I need to go get some more plastic film to wrap my books - I’m such a ngiao (stingy? fastiduous? We need an NSM explication on this term) person that I must wrap all the books I own and keep them in tip-top condition. I don’t know la, it’s just me.

With Love and Irony, Lin Yutang

(Couldn’t find a book cover!)

Synopsis: With Love and Irony is a prized collection for all readers of Lin Yutang’s writing. First published in 1934, it contains succinct and deliciously pungent pieces most native to his genius: wise, fearless and unaffected commentary delivered with sparkling humour. The articles are highly varied, ranging from humorous observations on aspects of daily life to the witty and fascinating insight of the social and political scene at that time. The reader of the 21st century will be amazed that much of his observations recorded in the 1930’s are still valid and relevant today. The same cultural issues addressed by him then are still pertinent to the understanding of present-day China and her relationship with the international powers. Undoubtedly, this is one rare Chinese writer in the last century who was clearly ahead of his time.

I LOVE THIS BOOK, and I think anybody interested in cross-cultural pragmatics and communication will be too. He brings to light the many differences between the Chinese culture and other cultures it comes into contact with. Lin’s acute observations leave me either nodding with total agreement or laughing with joy. This book is very inspiring to the cross-cultural Pragmatician in me; each article I read I get a new topic to base my term paper on. Anyway, some quotes I need to share:

“A cocktail party [in America] is also an institution where you learn simultaneously to wave your hand to someone across the room on your right, smile a greeting to someone on your left, and manage to say, “oh yeah?” to the lady in front, with whom you are supposed to be engaged in a philosophic conversation.” — Pg 28

“Now I have had many conversations with these [Chinese] gentlemen. Invariably, the more educated my interlocutors was, the longer we had to bandy about compliments and beat about the bush.” — Pg 140

“Among other aspects of Chinese literature, we have very few taboos in Chinese, for we are so in love with earthly life that we regard nothing as too low or trivial to go into poetry. Take for instance the verse that I saw once on the wall of a Hangchow restaurant:

‘The bamboo shoots are fresh and I find my rice-bowl too small; the fish is delicious and my intestines are broadened with wine.’
What American poet would dare to incorporate ham and sweet potatoes into his verse or sing about the condition of his alimentary canal?” — Pg 247

Oh man. I love these lines (among others that were too long for me to post up here.) They explain everything, don’t they. Why the East-West dialectic has perpetuated and how tormented first-generation immigrants to San Fran must have been. This book rocks! One of the best I have read this year (so far, 13 other books). I’m seeing some kindling passion for cross-cultural pragmatics. Anyone?

The Book of Lost Things

Synopsis: High in his attic bedroom, twelve-year-old David mourns the loss of his mother. He is angry and he is alone, with only the books on his shelf for company. But those books have begun to whisper to him in the darkness, and as he takes refuge in the myths and fairytales so beloved by his dead mother he finds that the real world and fantasy world have begun to meld. The Crooked Man has come, with his mocking smile and his enigmatic words: “Welcome your majesty. All hail the new king.” And as war rages across Europe, David is violently propelled into a land that is both a construct of his imagination yet frighteningly real, a strange reflection of his own world composed of myths and stories, populated by wolves and worse-than-wolves, and ruled over by a faded king who keeps his secrets in a mysterious book … the Book of Lost Things. An imginative tribute to the journey we must all make through the loss of innocence into adulthood, John Connolly’s latest novel is a book for every adult who can recall the moment when childhood began to fade, and for every child about to face that moment. It is a story of hope for all who have lost and all who have yet to lose. It is an exhilarating tale of grief and loss, loyalty and love, and most poignantly, the enduring power of stories in our lives.

I like this book, but I just feel something lacking in it. I didn’t like the ending because it felt so cliche. But I do love the device of reformulating well-known fairytales to subvert childhood naivety of “happily ever after”. That bit I liked, but I didn’t like the main plot at all. Sure, the protagonist is a child, but he is not child-like at all. There isn’t any “growing up” as the synopsis suggested; I felt it was more like being pushed by fate from one corner to another that he was forced to do certain seemingly adult-like things that really is what a child perceives to be “adult”. Sure, he learnt to love his brother, but so? It’s just a little realization that doesn’t quite live up to my expectations.

(PS: Ack. I’m just pretty knackered from school and I’m blogging about this book that I read a week ago. Sigh. I promise to blog on time the next time round.)