Hey, bae, Timothée!

Today, my mind, for some inexplicable reason, is centering on the actor Timothée Chalamet. I guess it probably has been triggered after reading that he's going to play Paul Atreides in another Dune big screen adaptation. Now I've yet to make a Dune movie that I like, maybe because I have high expectations of it every time. When your favorite science fiction read is translated to another format, you just brace yourself that they don't eff it up. I'm pretty much sure the 1984 David Lynch film effed it up, big time. With the one being made by Denis Villeneuve though, I am so in. Like I'll pay all the seats in one screening just to have the theater to myself. And it all has to do with Timothée Chalamet, who I think is perfect for the role.

TC slayed it in Call Me by Your Name. I've never seen an actor play a role both with vulnerability and intensity at the same time. And that dreamboat Armie Hammer? Just wrap him up in a brown paper package and send him to me please. I've been practicing speaking in that deeply seductive AH voice, but all it gives me is a lot of wheezing and more asthma attacks. The same with imitating TC's stare-that-says-more-than-a-thousand-words in front of a mirror. I just scare myself. Aieeee, those two, they'll be the death of me.

Interestingly, unlike Dune, I found Call Me by Your Name, well, one of the most boring things that I've ever read. Oy, the phone book would be a much more engaging read than this novel. Ennui rules its pages, and its ennui the reader gets. The novel does have many quotable lines which fortunately find their way into the brilliant adaptation by Luca Guadagnino. I found the movie charming, heartbreaking, and suspenseful, a combination that is as common as wearing plaid pants with a striped shirt. I felt for Elio, the character played by TC. I felt his doubt in approaching Oliver, AH's character, and telling him his feelings. I felt his euphoria at having the opportunity to indulge his fantasy even for a few days. I felt his spirit trampled on when he heard of Oliver's engagement through a phone call, the most prosaic of all things.

My favorite quote from Call Me by Your Name

“If there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don't snuff it out, don't be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we'd want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!”

I guess Call Me by Your Name speaks to the romantic in me. Gone are the days when you can talk to your family members about Conrad's Heart of Darkness. Transcribing music as a pastime has become unheard of. I'd long for a summer where you'll meet a handsome intellectual and just sweep you off your feet, without having to Instagram it.

Not my kind of story

I was prepared to like this book. Even thought that it would end up as a favorite. It has all the things that a bibliophile can relate to—collecting rare books, running a bookstore, having a partner who's also into books, being a part of a book club. But at the final page, Gabrielle Zevin's novel, The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry, just didn't deliver.

Maybe because it touched on a whole lot of things, that the result is just several story lines spread too thinly. It's like biting into a supposedly dense cheesecake but what you really feel is a light chiffon cake. Or just plain air. Perhaps the flaws lie on the themes? They're just all over the place.

Anyway, there's really nothing new about this novel. A. J. Fikry, a recent widower, runs a bookstore in a small island. He's grumpy as hell, and one fat ass book snob. Then one day his rare copy of Edgar Allan Poe's Tamerlane gets stolen. Then he adopts a precocious baby that's left on his doorstep, who becomes instrumental in changing his dark demeanor.

It would've been more palatable if the novel focused on the story between Fikry and his adopted daughter. But no, there has to be romance and mystery. Fikry eventually marries a book agent, who helps him run his bookstore. And the mystery of the stolen Tamerlane has to be solved, albeit in a most unimaginative manner. Along the way, you meet a host of other characters: the detective who runs a book club, Fikry's sister-in-law, Fikry's sister-in-law's philandering husband, to name a few.

If the other characters in the novel remain unnamed in this blog entry, it's because they're so cookie cutter figures; I've forgotten their names. Even Fikry was someone I couldn't relate to, much as I tried.

The whole novel reeks of Hallmark. You know those movies when everything just works out cleanly in the end? The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry is that. It's so clean and wholesome that it feels antiseptic. Where's the conflict? Where's the dilemma that the characters have to face? Where are the destestable villains? Unfortunately, there are none. And that's why Zevin's novel is one such work that feels hollow.

I'm not going to say that this is a terrible book. But it's a cliche. The grinch becomes lovable. The philandering character dies in a car crash. The dying bookstore gets a second life in the hands of its patrons. Money magically appears. I. Die. Of. Sugar.

Read this book if:

1. You have nothing else to do.
2. You love books about books.
3. Oh, don't bother.

Particularly endearing

Sometimes, I wish that I had super taste buds. You know, being able to detect the different ingredients that make up a dish, or being able to tell whether a specific fruit or vegetable has been farmed or grown organically. In Aimee Bender's The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, we meet one character who has an extraordinary ability—being able to taste the emotions of the people who cooked the food.

So Rose Edelstein discovers that she can find out her mother's emotions when she takes a bite of the lemon cake her mother baked for her ninth birthday. In that instant, Rose detected a hollowness, a loneliness, in the lemon cake. Eventually, as she learns to come to grips with her particular gift, she soon finds out that these "tastes" are actually the feelings that the persons have at the time they make the dish.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake is a novel that touches heavily on the family. And the Edelsteins make up a family that's unbearably sad. Rose's mother carries on an affair that lasts for years, even though she puts up this cheery veneer every time she's home. Rose's father can't seem to bear to go to hospitals, and seems oblivious to his wife's affair. Through the different emotions that Rose encounters during family meals, she gets to discover all the painful words left unsaid, the missed connections, and the frustrations of her family.

Apparently, it's not just Rose who is blessed/cursed with a gift. Her brother, Joseph, can make himself disappear for several months, eventually coming back looking tired, dehydrated, and basically clinging to life. Joseph's sadness is one that's not very easy to read. He was the one who supposedly had the brains in the family. But his potential is not realized, beginning with the fact that he failed to secure a spot at Cal Tech.

Rose doesn't fully learn to appreciate her extraordinary ability. For her, every meal taken at home is torture. She becomes obsessed with the vending machine in her school, who dispenses factory-made junk food. I can empathize. I'd rather eat a Twinkie than have a home-made omelet wherein I can taste all the sadness that goes with it. So yes, for me, Rose's ability is in fact a curse.

Bender writes beautifully. Her prose is lyrical without being too cloying. In a way, the reader can "taste" the sadness in her prose, the emptiness that clings to the Edelsteins. And I find it very apt that food is used as the conduit for the emotions. One can't just say that her or she is feeling unhappy; that person has to find a way to make the other person feel his unhappiness. What better way than to let that person consumer your emotions. Call it transference, if you will.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake looks like a very light read. Well, it is, at around 200 pages. But it's dense with drama and its characters fully realized. You feel sad for Rose, Joseph, their parents. You want to reach the end to find out if everything goes well with each of them. It's a heartbreaking novel, this one. But you'll still be happy that you finish it.

Read this book if:

1. You value the importance of shared meal times.
2. You're super picky with your food.
3. You love lemon cakes.

Of citrus fruits and new author discoveries

I know, I'm holding a grapefruit and not a lemon.
Still feeling particularly sad though,
as I really am craving a lemon cake.

One weekday, I felt like going to my favorite bargain bin bookstore near our office. I wasn't really particularly feeling hungry despite it being lunch time. But I am always in the mood for a book hunt, no matter the weather. I recall that it was raining intermittently that day.

Anyway, I spotted Aimee Bender's novel The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake at the bookstore. I decided to buy it, as Bender seems to be one of those talked about contemporary fiction writers these days. Besides, I couldn't resist a book with this title.

As it was a rainy day, it could only mean one thing—traffic will be horrible. And it was! I have no qualms about reading on the road, especially if the vehicle is moving at a snail's pace, which is what happens to Manila's highways every time it rains. Well-lighted buses are perfect for reading!

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake did help me pass the time. One minute I just pulled it out of my bag and turned to the first page, the next I'm on page 150 and almost near my house! It's really good! The following day I read another 100 pages on the bus as well.

I think Bender's novel would be the first book I read entirely on the bus within a few days. The writing has a melancholic tinge. I have a full review coming up on this novel, dear reader. But for the meantime, here's hoping that I find another Bender work soon. Or at least a delicious slice of lemon cake.

Everyone's supposedly talking about this book

Apparently, E. Lockhart's novel, We Were Liars, is the hot ticket this season. It took me a while to get my hands on a copy, as bookstores can't seem to replenish their stocks fast enough. We Were Liars is a quick read, something that you can read to pass a lazy weekend afternoon.

What's it about? Well, WASPs. How waspy can you get when a family, the Sinclair family to be specific, spends summers in their private island in Cape Cod. They all have trust funds and have their own huge houses on the private island. Goodness, give me that kind of life now!

Anyway, the Liars referred to in the novel are four teenagers who seem to be inseparable every time they summer together. Cadence, Johnny, Gat, and Mirren form a very tight bond, and it's this tight bond that makes them believe that they can do anything. We Were Liars somewhat touches on a mystery, and that mystery focuses on Cadence, our main character.

One summer, on her fifteenth year, Cadence wakes up on the beach with absolutely no memory of what happened to her. Her mother makes it a point to shield Cadence from remembering the terrible thing that occurred on that fateful night. Was Cadence raped? Did she play a role in burning the house of their grandfather, the head of the Sinclair clan? What made the rest of the Liars seem changed after that summer?

I don't want to give away the mystery, as there's this big reveal at the end about Cadence and the Liars. I, myself, was even surprised at the ending. It's like a punch in the gut, that reveal.

We Were Liars touches on the hurt, the frustration, and the sadness that family members inflict on one another. Most of the Sinclair women are divorced, and they can throw barbed words at one another. Cadence's grandfather has been threatening to donate a substantial amount of money to Harvard. And Cadence is, well, a mess.

The novel's very entertaining. The mystery motivates you to keep on reading. Also, Cadence's voice, providing the novel's point-of-view, is very candid and touching. You just want to make sure that she'll be all right. By the novel's end though, you know that she'll pull through.

Read this book if:

1. You know that family is important, no matter how eccentric and sharp-tongued they can be.
2. You looked forward to spending your summers away from home.
3. You miss your childhood friends.

J is for James

Henry James is a novelist whom I feel I should be reading more of. I was in book love heaven with A Portrait of the Lady. And I was genuinely creeped out by his short story "The Turn of the Screw." But The Wings of the Dove was another matter. I found reading it, uhmm, difficult.

The novel's plot is classic Henry James. A couple, Kate Croy and Merton Densher, are ridiculously in love. However, Kate's aunt, Maud Lowder, is vehemently opposed to their romantic involvement, as Merton is just a lowly clerk without any money. Enter Milly Theale, an American millionaire who's terminally ill. Kate comes up with an idea of Merton accompanying Milly in Italy, hoping that Milly would fall made in love with Merton and leave some of her inheritance to Merton upon her death.

First, there are the characters. For some reason, I couldn't root for any of them. Kate comes off as being manipulative, Merton as a wuss, and Milly as a gullible expat. And am I bad person if I wish that Kate and Merton's romance be doomed? Even Aunt Maud feels a little oily for me.

Second, the narrative feels long and winding. Long paragraphs wherein characters just describe their mood made me want to fling this book at a wall. I almost did it though. Almost. But my A to Z challenge calls, and there's no way I'm going to switch The Wings of the Dove with two other Henry James novels that I have. I don't care about the American expat community in The Ambassadors, nor about the ending in The Golden Bowl, which is the only James novel where everything turns out well for the characters in the end. Blecch. Give me tragedy any time.

The ending of The Wings of the Dove almost had me screaming. Almost. Merton, you should've opened that envelope. You should've allowed yourself just a peek at what Milly left you. You owe it to yourself to have done so. Never mind about Kate. She had it coming. When she asked you to be close to Milly, she basically gave you away. Your falling in love with Milly was but natural.

I love the movie adaptation of this novel though. Helena Bonham Carter and Linus Roache were perfect for their roles. Alison Elliott's acting as Milly Theale was so beautifully subtle. The sense of place of the movie was spot on. However, in the novel, the setting can get a bit confusing, especially with James's penchant for long paragraphs and his focus on the characters' train of thought.

The Wings of the Dove is considered by many to be one of James's brilliant novels. But James was never really happy with it. He felt that his characters aren't that fully realized and that the novel's final structure was defective, whatever that means. I agree with James. I would have loved to read more about Kate and Merton and their relationship with Milly. I would have loved to read more about Milly's eventual falling for Merton. In the novel, Milly just . . . dies.

I'm guessing that The Wings of the Dove is one of those novels that gets better after a reread. It is a classic after all. And perhaps I just had way too many expectations about it. In any case, a reread is definitely in order.

Read this book if:

1. You love doomed romances.
2. You have a devious and manipulative romantic partner.
3. You have a thing for Henry James and his long paragraphs.

H is for Hardy

First, this is going to be short. I'll be writing a full post on my thoughts about Thomas Hardy's The Return of the Native over at The Project Gutenberg Project blog. I've been accepted as one of its contributors, and my first post goes live this Tuesday. The blog's all about discovering forgotten classics in the public domain.

While Hardy may not be considered "forgotten," I feel that he's not as popular these days as some classic authors. Jane Austen, for instance, has had numerous adaptations of her novels. Shakespeare has been reworked to death. Henry James and E. M. Forster enjoyed a revival due to the wonderful Merchant-Ivory films. But Hardy? Quite few and far between, if I may so.

Second, The Return of the Native caught me by surprise. Oh, Hardy, why did it take me this long to read you? The novel opens very slowly. But the drama that enfolds lures you in. Here are tragic characters all set out to enact the story that unfolds beautifully. Here's a novel that lets you look into the lives of provincial characters—their superstitions, their upbringing, their beliefs and mores.

Perhaps it's the depressing themes that make people shy away from Hardy. Yes, The Return of the Native can indeed be a downer. You wallow in it. You get lost in all the frustrations, the what-could-have-beens, the missed connections, and the futile romances of the people of Egdon Heath. But you know what? I'd gladly return to the fictional Wessex of Hardy, if only to read his brilliant stories. The themes may be depressing, but the writing is glorious.

Started reading this while waiting to board a plane

Read this book if:

1. Depressing novels are your thing.
2. You've always wondered about Hardy's fictional Wessex.
3. You know what it's like to return to your hometown after years of being away.

Update:

My post at the Project Gutenberg Project blog is now up. Read it here.

E is for Eliot

And I've finally read my first Eliot! Although I initially planned to read Middlemarch, I had to shift to Silas Marner while I was midway into the former. I wasn't getting the feels for Middlemarch. And besides, Silas Marner is reportedly the author's favorite among her novels. I still plan to go back to that doorstop that is Middlemarch but not until the latter part of the year though.

So the eponymous Silas Marner is probably the most sympathetic, the mostly easily likeable, character I've come across. The short novel (just a little over 200 pages) is really his story of redemption. It's a tale involving his fate because of the actions of the people who have wronged him and of how the presence of a child can force our humble character to make a 180-degree turn and look at life in a more positive light.

Because Silas Marner, a weaver, is really like Scrooge in the earlier parts of the novel. Having been falsely accused of stealing, he leaves the town of his birth and decides to live in the town of Raveloe. In that town, he amasses a somewhat substantial fortune from his daily toil of weaving. He spends every night holed up in his cottage and running his fingers through all that gold and money. (Well, honestly, I would do that too. Who wouldn't, yes?) Silas now chooses isolation, as he's been betrayed by people in his former hometown.

Enter a two-year-old girl, who finds her way to the cottage of Silas Marner after her mother dies from exposure. Silas decides to raise the girl as his own, thinking that the baby, who he named Eppie, is a blessing from above. At this point, Silas somehow has the idea that this baby rightfully belongs to him—that the baby is owed him, in fact. But there's more to Eppie though. It turns out that her dead mother was the wife of Godfrey Cass, the eldest of the two sons of a very wealthy person in Raveloe. At that time, Godfrey had his eyes on marrying Nancy Lammeter.

When Eppie was discovered by Silas who brings him to the village pub, Godfrey immediately knew that she was his daughter. Fearful that his marriage prospects to Nancy would be ruined, he decides to  keep his mouth shut. Godfrey's younger brother, Dunstan, has been missing as well. And we know early on that it was Dunstan who entered the house of Silas and took the money away.

The disappearance of the money and the arrival of Eppie have profound effects on the life of Silas. Before, it's as if the money served as all, screening off Silas from the happenings in the town. The townsfolk left him alone and considered him to be an eccentric. When they find out about the robbery, they reached out to Silas. They gave him food. They offered their advice. They acted neighborly and Christian. When Eppie came to his Silas's life, people were no longer afraid of him. With Eppie, Silas came into his own as a member of the community. No longer was Silas lonesome.

In old  days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth towards a calm and brighter land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child's. [page 150]

Cut to 16 years later, and of course there must be a wedding. Our Eppie has blossomed into a fine young woman, and she has received a proposal from Aaron, her childhood friend and the son of Mrs Dolly Winthrop. Aside from Silas, it is Mrs Winthrop whom I particularly like. Early on, she was always there to lend comfort to Silas, and it was she who was instrumental in bringing Silas to the Christian fold.

Towards the end of the novel, it is revealed to Eppie that her real father is Godfrey. This revelation serves its purpose of easing the guilty conscience of Godfrey, who have hidden this secret from his estranged daughter and his goodly wife. But Eppie will have none of it. She loves Silas, her working-class father. She loves living among the working class. She will not be made into a lady. And at this point in the novel, I admire Eppie for her chutzpah.

I really enjoyed Silas Marner. Eliot shows us a forgotten time in provincial England, where people take no hesitation in helping people in need. It's a time when you know all the people in the pub at the end of the work day. It's a time when it was relatively easy to start with a clean slate. Silas Marner is that kind of novel that you close with a feeling of hope. And these days, we all could be a little more hopeful.

Read this book if:

1. You like novels set in provincial England.
2. You know that people inherently are good.
3. You believe in angels.

The Rosales Saga Book #2: Tree

When your book club has a read-along, you do your best to catch up with. No questions. Never mind that you missed out on the discussion of the first book. There are still 4 more books anyway. And that's what happened to me when the book club decided to do a read-along of F. Sionil's José's 5-novel historical epic called "The Rosales Saga." Work kept me from participating initially, but I couldn't pass this up. It was just this weekend that I got to read the 2nd book in the saga. No worries though. Fortunately, the books are stand-alone works.

So, the 2nd book—Tree. A lot of things struck me as I finished the book. First is what I would call texture. Sionil José's description of setting is so detailed that you feel you're right at the center of events. Aside from the nuances of the place, there's a certain lyrical quality to the writing even when he simply describes the places the unnamed narrator goes to. Lots of atmosphere, vivid on the details, a keen eye even for the mundane and the prosaic.

As the rains subsided and the fields turned green, the mud settled and the river  acquired a clear, green hue. It would no longer be swift and it flowed with a rhythm, broken by small ripples in the shallows. It was at this time that we bathed in it and dove to its depths to discover what secrets it held. Now, too, the women took their washing to the banks and they would squat before wide tin basins, and whack at clothes with wooden paddles.

Another is how episodic the chapters seem to be. The book is really a coming-of-age tale of a boy, whose privileged family play a huge role among the townsfolk of a small town in Ilocos. Mostly, it is about the unravelling of the boy's relationship with his father, a powerful person under the employ of one Don Vicente. As a character, Don Vicente appears briefly in the novel, but his influence can be felt looming on every page. It's as if I were reading a local version of The Godfather, with Don Vicente as the head of the mafiosi and the boy's father, Espiridion, as his consiglieri. Espiridion is a character difficult to like. He has his fingers on all the comings and goings in town. Hardened, ruthless, with very few soft spots.

The chapters can indeed be likened to individual episodes. In one chapter, we read about a travelling circus who visits the town. In another, the unplanned marriage of two relatives who find themselves spending the summer in the house of Espiridion. In one chapter, there's an anecdote about a relative who finds out that the townsfolk have been cheated of their land and is determined to set things right. And in other chapters, we discover the unfortunate lives of the family's household help. A lot of these episodes don't end well. The righteous man commits suicide, the star of the circus show has an accident and never performs again, the help die from poverty. And the boy? He doesn't really come to terms with his father.

The book's spirit is not really an upper. Tree is a sad read. It shows you that the poor want for justice, and that a small impoverished town so far removed from the nation's capital can appear chaotic despite its calm veneer. The town may be picturesque, based on our unnamed narrator's eye, but it's rotten to the core. Peel the eggshell and what you get are centuries-old problems brought about by the corrupt feudal system of our colonists. And what stinks really bad is that these problems are no longer being wrought by white people but by the very same brown-skinned Filipino who doesn't think twice about making life bitter for his fellow citizen.

One closes Tree with a feeling of unease. Our ancestors never had an easy life. It was even more difficult during wartime. But what makes it even more uncomfortable is that a small town, without even knowing it, is waging its own war. The rich prey among the poor. The poor futilely fighting back and eventually accepting their sad circumstance. It's one picture that's very painful to see—people swimming upstream against forces of history, of terrible human nature, of the cruel fates, only to be swept away by the current, helpless, quietly sobbing, and eventually drowning.

Read this book if:

1. You have a thing for historical epics set in the 1940s.
2. You love unconventional coming-of-age stories.
3. You know that sad books can be beautiful reads.

B is for Brontë

My first dead guy was Austen, and I didn't like her so much. Now my 2nd dead guy—Charlotte Brontë—is something so completely unexpected. Jane Eyre is a marvelous read. And with its Gothic theme, I wonder why it took me this long to read it.

Yes, Jane Eyre is heavy on the melodrama, but I loved it. I loved the eponymous character, she of the head strong female, the kind of person every young girl should look up to. She knows what she wants, and even though she doesn't usually get it, she's prepared to say no to things just because it would be convenient for her. Marriage to a handsome pastor but is not made of love? No, thank you. Jane Eyre will have her Mr Rochester.

The premise is simple enough. Orphaned girl is taken in by an uncle who eventually dies too. Uncle's wife is a huge b***c, who makes life terrible for the 10-year-old Jane. Jane is transplated to a boarding school for orphans, where she stays for 10 years. For the last 2 years, she serves as teacher to the same school. But Jane has itchy feet, and she decides to apply as a governess to the ward of a certain Mr Rochester.

Lowering my expectations on the 1st page

Jane falls madly in love with Mr Rochester. What struck me about this attraction is that it's not at all based on beauty and gallantry. Rochester isn't handsome, he's a bit of a stuck up and very anal, and he seems to have this sense of entitlement which he never fails to remind his household staff. Yes, Jane's attraction isn't explained at all, and that's how I know that this is one good romance. Love doesn't need any justification. You just love someone. Period.

But Rochester has a secret: he's still married to a crazy woman whom he keeps in the 3rd floor of his house. This secret isn't revealed till the day of Jane's wedding to Mr Rochester. The two don't become husband and wife at this point though, for upon discovering this not-so-teeny-tiny a secret, Jane flees. In the last quarter of the novel, we read how Jane discovers her cousins, almost marries a parson named Mr St John Rivers, and comes into her inheritance upon the death of her uncle.

I totally get Jane.

Mr Rochester and Jane do end up as a couple though. And here is where the novel really shines. When Jane goes back to Thornfield, he finds Mr Rochester blind and in a nasty state. But it doesn't matter—she still loves him and she's prepared to make all the sacrifices for the sake of this love. Do you find this sappy, dear reader? I do. But it's the good kind of sappy, the kind of sappy that doesn't make you fling the book at the couple making out in the train.

I'd like to think of Jane Eyre as not just merely a love story. Oh, the love story is a huge part of it all right, but I think it's more of the journey of a character, from someone who seems to have nothing at all to a woman who knows that life is about the choices we make and the consequences of those choices.

Jane always found a way to redeem herself at various stages of her life. In Lowood, the boarding school, she refuses to acknowledge the lies being told about her. In her refusal to marry Mr St John Rivers, she knew that marrying someone just because it would be easy for them to go to India on a missionary tour is a mistake. When she found out Mr Rochester's secret, Jane believes that staying in Thornfield would always present a moral dilemma, as she'd always be in the presence of a man she loves and can never marry.

Yes, this book is a treasure.

To say that I had a blast reading Jane Eyre would be an understatement. I devoured the book. I kissed it when I finished it. I recommended it to friends. It's not a short read, being more than 400 pages, but it's a rewarding one. It's very moral without being preachy, romantic without being too sugary, dark and luminous in different parts. It really is, without a doubt, a classic.

Read this book if:

1. You love strong female characters.
2. You know that one should always marry someone you love and nobody else.
3. You've always been curious about the works of the Brontë sisters.

Redeemed

Ah, the Printz medal. If a book has been awarded the Printz, even though it's just an honor book (shortlisted for the main award), then it's bound to have a few controversial themes. And A. S. King's Please Ignore Vera Dietz is anything but controversial. I know this is a cliche, but I think it's true and has to be said about King's wonderful young adult—this novel pushes the envelope.

Edgy, that's what Please Ignore Vera Dietz is. But it does have its flaws. Flaws which the reader might tolerate if only for the somewhat different storyline and narrative. So, who the heck is Vera Dietz and why the plea to ignore her? She's the novel's junior high school student protagonist. Vera is a character seeking redemption for her best friend, Charlie Kahn, who's recently died following a tragic incident involving the fire at the local pet shop.

Vera and Charlie have been best friends for so long, but something comes in the way in their friendship, specifically someone named Jenny who becomes Charlie's girlfriend. Vera is what we would call a, pardon the word, slut. She offers oral sex to Charlie who wisely refuses it. However, in an act of stupid revenge so typical of people her age, tells everyone at school that Charlie's father physically abuses her mother. Everything is blamed on Vera, as Charlie was made to believe. Charlie then tells everyone another secret involving Vera—that her mother was once a stripper.

Of course, everything spirals downhill from here. Vera's father a reformed alcoholic, is still hung up on the fact that his wife left them. Vera is probably headed toward the bleak path of alcoholism herself. Hey, if you were forced by your father to work your ass off (full time!) to save for college on top of maintaining an A average, then you'd probably drink yourself to death too. And it doesn't help that alcoholism does indeed run in Vera's family. But hats off to Vera! She decides one day to just simply stop and try to have a "normal" relationship with her father. Now I think that this is one of the novel's flaws. I was surprised that she could just stop. Just. Like. That.

If you're a junior high school student who's best friends with someone whom everyone thinks burned the town's beloved pet shop down and whose mother is actually a stripper, then you'd think that everyone should just ignore you. Something's nagging at Vera though—the thought that she should clear up Charlie's name concerning the fire. She owes it to herself, her dead best friend who she was in love with, and her best friend's family. In the end, she redeems Charlie's name, and when she does, she truly comes of age as she comes to terms with her father and her willingness to have control in her life.

A lot of readers may find it difficult to suspend their disbelief in some of the chapters of Please Ignore Vera Dietz. The chapters wherein we read Vera's thoughts are wonderfully candid. But those that feature the voice of the dead Charlie, the inanimate pagoda, and Vera's father require a bit of work. Sometimes, these chapters aren't believable enough. Plus, Vera's father shares flowcharts on how to deal with certain aspects of life, and these flowcharts feel iffy. They stick out of the novel like a sore thumb. If the point of these flowcharts is to show how methodical Vera's father is in making decisions, all right, they're fine then. Otherwise, they're just a waste of valuable page space.

I did enjoy Please Ignore Vera Dietz though. How ironic to have that title in the book, especially when the character of Vera Dietz, her aspirations, her insecurities, her addiction, her failed love life, and her angst are just so hard to ignore. They're quite compelling to read actually.

Read this book if:

1. You like controversial young adult books.
2. You have a best friend whom you were secretly in love with.
3. You know the importance of redemption.

This isn't just about food

One of the main characters in Jami Attenberg's novel, The Middlesteins, is obsessed about food, lots and lots of food. But its effect on the reader is a 180. After reading this novel, I felt a lack of craving for Big Macs, Chinese take-out, and baby back ribs. Yes, I've been affected by The Middlesteins, and in a good way.

The Middlesteins may be a short novel, but it certainly is meaty on the issues of family, our roles in it, marriage, the importance of coping with change, and the consequences of failing to do so. We all know that family is important, and yet our actions, our attitude, toward our family seem to point otherwise.

Attenberg's novel is made up of the narratives of the Middlestein family. There's Edie Middlestein, the 60-year-old retired lawyer who has been abandoned by her husband. Edie's problem is that she can't stop eating, even though she's now more than 300 pounds and is diabetic. Richard, her husband of more than 30 years, is now living in an apartment with his girlfriend. Apparently, Richard has long been contemplating leaving Edie, which was finally triggered by Edie's latest diabetic surgery.

Then there are their children. Robin, their daughter who is a schoolteacher, naturally hates her father for leaving. Benny, who has now a family of his own, is married to Rachelle, who also gets her own narrative in the novel. Rachelle is your Stepford wife: is a perfectionist, counts calories in her family's meals, and is determined to "save" Edie's life. It's a futile attempt though, as Edie just consumes all the food that she can possibly can up to the end.

Food is central in the story of The Middlesteins. When Edie's children were growing up, she gave them all the food that they can afford, as if thinking that "food was made of love. . . and they could never deny themselves a bit of anything they desired." Robin was a fat kid who decides that she's had enough of all the eating during her teenage years. Now an adult, Robin may be thin, but she has all this pent-up anger toward her father and probably just a slight bitterness that her career didn't actually become how she thought it would.

Throughout the novel, it's as if Edie has resigned herself to the fact that all she has in her life, apart from her kids and grandchildren, is her love of eating. Attenberg even describes the food, junk food and otherwise, with much detail. We know that all this eating will eventually lead to her death, but we're still reading, anxiously awaiting how the final events will play out.

I love The Middlesteins. It allowed me a glimpse of contemporary family life, albeit the family is Jewish and American. I enjoyed reading the narratives of each of the characters. I'm amazed how the author has created distinct voices for each. I just felt sorry for Edie and I somehow sympathized with Richard. And Rachelle's obsessive compulsiveness is a gas.

It's no wonder why The Middlesteins was chosen as a best book of the month by Amazon and also by The Millions. The novel is just so wonderful that you wish it were longer. It's heartbreaking and smart. The term "tragicomedy" doesn't cut it in describing this beautiful novel.

Read this book if:

1. Food is your obsession.
2. You know that every family is weird in its own way.
3. You love reading personal narratives.

Despicable mother

Sometimes, the people who can hurt us the most are the ones that we truly love. Or, at least, the ones who should supposedly love us. In Nancy Werlin's National Book Award-nominated novel, The Rules of Survival, the one who does the hurting is the mother, who is probably the most abusive, most hateful, most unstable matriarch that I've encountered in books.

The Rules of Survival is not an easy read. It made me uncomfortable while I was reading it the whole time. It's a young adult novel narrated by Matthew, a teenager living with his coke head of a mother named Nikki. Matthew has 2 younger sisters—Callie and Emmy, ages 11 and 5, respectively.

Matthew and his siblings have a difficult time coping with the presence of their mother. Nikki has no qualms whatsoever in hitting Matthew repeatedly or of driving on the wrong side of the road in a car with all her children just to get a thrill. I can never imaging a mother like that can actually exist. Who would ever want to physically and emotionally hurt their own children?

One day, Matthew encounters a man named Murdoch in a convenience store. Matthew is transfixed as he sees Murdoch stand up to that much bigger man in the store and stop him from hurting his kid. From that day onwards, Matthew vows that he'll look for Murdoch.

But Murdoch talked directly to the kid. "It's wrong for anybody ever to hurt you. No matter who does it, it's wrong. Can you remember that?" 

The kid's eyes were now huge. He looked at his father again. Then back at Murdoch. Then he nodded. 

"You'll remember that?" Murdoch insisted. "You don't have to do anything else. You just have to remember." [page 6]

The siblings do track Murdoch down, with the hope that he'll be their savior, their superhero. But, in some strange twist of fate, Murdoch becomes their mother's boyfriend. For the next 3 months, with Murdoch around, everything was relatively fine in their household. Then he breaks up with Nikki and everything spirals toward hell.

Nikki becomes more abusive to Matthew, Callie, and Emmy, especially when she finds out that Murdock has endeared himself to her children. She even went on a date with another man just so that she can ask him to kill Murdoch. It's very surreal. Is Nikki even for real? In this f****d up world, I do believe that there are people who just make everything messy for everybody else.

But The Rules of Survival is Matthew's story, and it is he who steps up to the plate. All his life, he has protected his 2 younger sisters and he doubles his efforts now that Nikki is seemingly spiralling out of control. He asks the help of Murdoch, reconnects with his father, and becomes instrumental in making Nikki's sister, their Aunt Bobbie, finally muster up her fear and ultimately help her nephew and nieces.

In several levels, The Rules of Survival is a coming-of-age tale. Matthew realizes that things will never just work things out, as most people say to him, and that something concrete has to be done. He also accepts that he did think of killing his mother had Murdoch not intercepted him. And finally, Matthew becomes determined to survive. Because after all, it is the survivors who get to tell their story.

Read this book if:

1. You're a survivor yourself.
2. You don't cringe from some of the harsh realities of life.
3. You know that superheroes don't have to wear costumes.

Of best friends, ex-boyfriends, and a very troublesome list

I'm currently in a David Levithan phase, which was happily triggered by the wonderful Boy Meets Boy. That's why I've been busy visiting bookstores for the past weeks, scouring the shelves for Levithan's young adult novels. And I'm thankful that Levithan has brought me out of that reading rut. So glad that that unfortunate phase is over, well at least for now.

My 2nd Levithan read is a collaboration with Rachel Cohn: Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List. The book is very cosmopolitan, with it being set in New York, having 2 fashionable and very open-minded teenagers as protagonists, and touching on the concept of friendship in the context of one's romantic relationships.

We all have that one person who always has our back. For Naomi, it has always been Ely. These two have always been inseparable, and I can't help but think that it's by default. They grew up in the same NYC apartment, went to the same high school and are now in NYU, and have come up with a list containing the names of boys that are officially off limits to any of them. I completely understand the concept of the list. One cannot date someone that your bff doesn't approve of, yes? For these two, their friendship is priority. Of course, Naomi isn't just your typical fag hag; she's in love with Ely, who unfortunately for her is also into boys.

Things get complicated when Ely kisses Bruce the Second, Naomi's boyfriend. While Bruce the Second isn't on the No Kiss List, it's just a given that current boyfriends are off limits. But is Bruce the Second gay? Levithan doesn't clearly say so. I'm getting the impression that Levithan is shying away from labels, which can really get very tricky and restrictive. When Bruce the Second's mom asks him if he's gay, he responds with, "I'm just not straight." Okay, I can totally work with that.

What I'm not okay is that there are quite a few unnecessary characters in the novel. They just come and go; they just muddle up the story. There's Bruce the First, Robin (a girl) and Robin (a boy), Gabriel the doorman, their fellow NYU undergraduates. It can be quite frustrating, especially when Levithan didn't give clear voices to the minor characters.

The resulting conflict between Naomi and Ely leads to a healthy realization. Both of them have always been associated with each other that their separation, albeit temporarily, makes them realize their individuality. Naomi comes to grips with the fact that it's futile holding out for Ely. And Ely is finally comfortable with having a "serious" relationship with someone that he might really be in love with.

Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List is a quirky but beautiful novel about friendship. And love too. We love our friends. It might not be the same way we love our partners, but this love is as important to us nonetheless.

Read this book if:

1. You've had a bff all your life.
2. You value the opinions of your close friends when it comes to the persons you date.
3. You hate labels.

I fell in love with this book

It's been a while since I gushed over a book, and it feels great to be doing it now. Yes, I am seriously fawning over David Levithan's debut novel Boy Meets Boy, a novel published 10 years ago. As I closed the book last Friday night, I was swept away by the beauty of Levithan's story and his writing. I've now included it in my very short list of all-time favorite books.

The world that Levithan creates in this novel represents an ideal. If you're jaded, you'd think this would be speculative fiction. It's a world where teenagers, gay or straight, can date anyone they want to, without fear of being ostracized. It's a school where the star quarterback is also the homecoming queen. Parents, well at least the main character's parents anyway, do not think too much about their children's sexuality but shower them with all the love that they can give.

I found it very easy to relate to all the characters Levithan wrote about in Boy Meets Boy. Paul, the 1st 'boy' in the title, is so unlike in your typical teenager. He has no tinge of insecurity and knows what he wants. However, like your typical teenager, he becomes awkward when he meets 'Noah', a senior who just transferred to his school. Right from the start, I just knew that Paul should end up with Noah. If they didn't, I would just die. There's no hope for the world.

But hope isn't a concept that's wanting in Boy Meets Boy. Paul hopes that he ends up with Noah. He hopes to patch things up with Joni, one of his best friends, who's dating a schmuck. He hopes that he wouldn't bump into his ex, Kyle, who keeps popping up in all the wrong moments. In the latter part of the novel, Kyle makes amends with Paul and hopes that things turn out better for them as friends. And Paul hopes that the parents of his other best friend, Tony, would step down from their religious pedestal and see that there's nothing wrong with being gay.

If I knew that Boy Meets Boy would have memorable lines, I would have kept a highlighter with me while I was reading it. I just fell in love with the beautiful prose that Levithan wrote. Here are some of my favorites:

I find my greatest strength in wanting to be strong. I find my greatest bravery in deciding to be brave. I don't know if I've ever realized it before. . . I think we both realize it now. If there's no feeling of fear, then there's no need for courage. 

With some break-ups, all you can think about afterwards is how badly it ended and how much the other person hurt you. With others, you become sentimental for the good times and lose track of what went wrong.

Now, I don't believe in doing hugs halfway. I can't stand people who try to hug without touching. A hug should be a full embrace - as I wrap my arms around Tony, I am not just holding him, but also trying to lift off his troubles for a moment so that the only thing he can feel is my presence, my support.

Part of love is letting a person be who they want to be.

My only gripe is that the novel is too short! It's that kind of book that you just want to go on forever. You feel that you just need to know everything that happens to these quirky characters. You wish that there were a sequel. And it's the kind of novel that makes you want to write fan mail to the author and urges you to hunt for his other books. I love Boy Meets Boy, and I hope more people would love it too.

Read this book if:

1. You know that it's only a matter of time before we get to that ideal world.
2. You like boys meeting boys, or girls meeting girls.
3. You love LGBT fiction.

I bite my nails to the quick

Ah, the bard. If there's one writer I'm not looking forward to reading, it's him. I get paranoid, antsy, and disoriented, knowing that I'll get my hands close to any of his works. Ye olde English? I don't get ye, not very much. Now I understand this expression because I'm close to doing it: I bite my nails to the point of thumbtacks.

But there's no escaping him. He is everywhere. He still influences TV, movies, and, of course, theater. He has been redone, rewritten, repackaged, updated, made more palatable. I think he just may be alive. For all we know, Shakespeare is the original Elvis, and he has not yet left the building.

As I said, I can't escape him, even if I cross dress, pretend I died, tell everyone I'm busy avenging a relative's death because his ghost told me so, marry a shrew or become a shrew myself, or just basically be one in a pair of star-crossed lovers. Have I just listed some elements of his plays? As I said, very influential indeed. Effortless.

This month, the book club will be discussing one of his plays, "A Midsummer Night's Dream." I've found out that it's a comedy. Hmmmm... So no one dies? No one becomes a crazed woman and drowns herself? But wasn't AMND the play featured in the movie Dead Poets' Society? I recall that, during curtain, the prep school boys loved it. All those cheers, whistles, and yawps. So I know that AMND doesn't suck vacuum cleaners.

My first non-academic experience with Shakespeare was just last year. Wasn't that bad, not bad at all. Read about it here. This time around, I come better prepared. Graphic novel? Check. A Shakespeare handbook? Have it. The Royal Shakespeare Company edition of the play? Beside my bed. The collecting part is easy; the bard can even take pointers from me in that aspect. Now for the challenge—reading.

I've never really liked manga. I find it weird and artificial. (Manga, one more WTF shit coming from Japan. Solar-powered flashlights? I die. But: toilet seat warmers—crazy brilliant.) But I'll take all the help I can get. Besides, the colored panels are beautiful, in a weird and artificial way.

And The Essential Shakespeare Handbook published by DK is just a beautiful book. It has more information on Shakespeare than you actually need. It's like a calculus textbook, but with full color images of people in costume. Because we know, really, that calculus is highly relevant in our everyday life. You need Shakespeare and calculus to buy stuff from iTunes, or to take the train, or to have sushi. Really.

And yet another book that I find quite interesting is The Graphic Canon series. Such an ambitious project, a 3-volume set aiming to interpret important literary works in comics and visual form. Volume 1 includes very early works such as The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Iliad, Tao Te Ching, The Tale of Genji, and, what do you know, "A Midsummer Night's Dream"! AMND just runs for 5 pages though. Better than nothing. Shakespeare ignoramuses (ignorami?) can't be choosy.

I'm no English major, so wish me luck on the book discussion. I majored in science actually, but I do believe in pretty things like fairies. And, from what I Googled, AMND has a few characters who are fairies. Because we love fairies, especially fairy royalty, and the sprites who attend to them.

Friday night with the Bard

Early this month, I got invited to a book club hosted by my friend, Orly. I'm no stranger to book clubs, having been a member of Flips Flipping Pages for 3 years now, but somehow I'm intrigued with this one as the members would be discussing one of Shakespeare's works: "The Taming of the Shrew."

I have never read any of Shakespeare's works outside the classroom. I'm just not comfortable with the genre and the language, which I thought would be daunting. But surprisingly, I had fun reading "The Taming of the Shrew." To be honest, I didn't think I got all of it during the first reading, so I did another. (One can't have too many rereadings for a book club in my experience. Hehehe.)

So Friday came and, for some reason, I felt ambiguous about attending. For one, I don't know any of the other members except for Orly. Another, the 2-hour commute to the venue on a Friday night with the terrible Manila traffic is enough to make anyone discouraged.

Good thing I did find the energy and the enthusiasm to go though. Discussing "The Taming of the Shrew" proved to be really fun and insightful, with a lot of the members relating particular themes to their personal lives. And because it was an intimate group, there was plenty of time for all members to share their thoughts.

I really must find a copy of the movie of "The Taming of the Shrew" or at least a video recording of the play. As it was pointed out during the discussion, Shakespeare is truly meant to be seen on stage. I agree. Don't you, dear reader?

All in all, it was a very enjoyable and insightful night. The members were very friendly and so fashionable, especially the ladies. And I'm just so glad that I attended, despite the hellish traffic.

Here are some pics of the discussion, dear reader.

Orly, during one of the discussion's light-hearted moments

I believe we were talking about fashion here, 

as one of the devices used by Shakespeare in the play was costumes.

Lei, the moderator, who prepared the discussion questions

and who gave a very detailed synopsis of the play 

Jary, reading one of the questions

She's a lit major! It pays to sit next to her.

Emcie, listening critically to a member response

Her biting smile is so charming, no?

Amabelle, who was a first-timer to the group like me, joined us

after her MBA night class. Talk about busy!

Cupcakes! My gift to Orly who celebrated his birthday recently

Finally, Shakespeare

Oh dear. I can't even remember the last time I read the bard's work. It must've been years ago back in high school. All the plays we discussed in high school are a blur to me. I recall reading "Medea" and "The Glass Menagerie." I'm sure there were others, and I'm very much positive that we read "Hamlet."

Next week, I've been casually invited to join a book group that would hold its last Shakespeare discussion, and the members have picked "The Taming of the Shrew." Aieeeee! All I know about it is that the movie "Ten Things I Hate about You" is based on this play.

One enjoyable thing about these events is that they give you an excuse to head to the bookstore and do some retail therapy. I have none of Shakespeare's works in my shelves (the horror of it!), so I was determined to get an edition with, shall we say, more pedigree than the norm. Luckily, I found one published by Modern Library in collaboration with The Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) no less.

But, dear reader, at another bookstore, I saw the edition that could probably save my big fat ass during the discussion. Ta-dah!

I would still try to read the RSC edition though, and perhaps consult the No Fear edition every now and then. If I still can't make heads nor tails of what's going on, I'd just watch again the movie, which features the fabulous Heath Ledger.

Wish me luck on my first Shakespeare discussion, dear readers!