What really matters at the end of the day

People say that the end of the day is the perfect time for reflection. Did I do my job correctly? Am I richer today because of the things I've accomplished? Am I happy? I guess that's why a lot of folks feel that the sunset is very dramatic, for it provides moments for introspection.

What do you feel, dear reader, every time you see the sunset, that huge orb slowly disappearing over the horizon? It's as if it reminds you that the day is truly over, and what remains of the day, the few hours between sunset and bedtime, is for your enjoyment.

In Kazuo Ishiguro's Booker prize–winning novel, The Remains of the Day, the one doing the reflection is an English butler named Mr. Stevens. On the surface, one sees a very servile, loyal, hardworking, and unselfish individual. Truly the qualities one could expect from a man dedicated to his job.

Mr. Stevens exists solely to serve whoever is the resident of Darlington Hall—be it a Nazi sympathizer in pre-WWII England or a rich American who's every bit the fish out of water in English upperclass society. If ever I do have the money, the genealogical heritage, and the estate to have a butler and household help, I'd go with Mr. Stevens. But what really makes Mr. Stevens tick? Is he really happy? Is he really the perfect English butler as he seems to be?

Maybe he really is happy. Perhaps what molds his existence, his persona, is his utter disregard for himself in favor of the people whom he serves. Never mind that he sacrifices his having a romantic relationship with the head housekeeper or his apparent lack of showing affection to his father even on the latter's death bed—all these are irrelevant to him. He serves his master, and that's all there is.

I loved The Remains of the Day. I loved its quiet tone. I loved Ishiguro's controlled narrative. I loved both Mr. Stevens and Miss Kenton. The banter between these two are typical English: the two saying so much but really leaving out what's important. Miss Kenton's brashness equally matches Mr. Stevens's reserve. You're really hoping that something will happen with them, but the spark never catches fire. But it's still a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

Aside from The Remains of the Day, the only Ishiguro I've read is The Unconsoled, which I've read more than 10 years ago. I enjoyed that novel as well. In both novels, Ishiguro lets you in on the deepest thoughts of his main characters. The Remains of the Day does just that with Mr. Stevens. For all his musings, his daydreams, and his thoughts of what could've been, he can't escape his pragmatism, thinking if he did everything that he can as a man who serves another. And for him, that's really what counts at the end of the day.

Read this book if:

1. You'll read anything that's won a Booker.
2. You're fascinated with what's going on in great English houses.
3. You love sunsets.

I am at a loss for words

I am at a loss for words, because I don't know what the hell happened in this book. I read Julian Barnes's Booker-winning novel, The Sense of an Ending, a few weeks ago, and I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

What was the sense of it all? What on earth was that ending? Arghhhh! It's so frustrating when this happens. (Thankfully, it doesn't happen that often.)

Maybe, just maybe, there are some readers out there (like poor me) who didn't get this novel at all. And perhaps, just perhaps, I'll understand this better after rereading it.

The Sense of an Ending, I'll see you again soon. And hopefully, I'd be able to make sense of you, not just the ending.

I'll be taking the 5th now

Why on earth has it taken me this long to read the wonderful Patrick Melrose novels of Edward St. Aubyn? These novels, about the upperclass Melrose family, are just a delight to read. Knowing that the PM novels are semi-autobiographical, you almost feel sorry for St. Aubyn. It takes guts to write about these experiences. And boy does St. Aubyn have them guts by the dozen.

The first novel, Never Mind, isn't even about Patrick Melrose at all. Yes, we see Patrick as a 5 year old, and we read how he's sexually abused by his father, David, whom I think is the novel all about. David Melrose is an all-imposing figure, having very strong opinions about everything and prone to showing off just how influential he is to his son and to his wife, Eleanor.

After what Patrick goes through during his childhood, it's no wonder that we meet him next in the second novel, Bad News, as a drug addict. The novel happens within just a day, and it's fascinating to read about the drug-induced hallucinations of 22-year-old Patrick. Bad News now focuses on Patrick Melrose himself, who finds himself in New York to collect the body of his father. Patrick is so f****d up that he doesn't even care how his father died. He just wants to get his coke fix most of the time.

The third novel, which is my favorite, is Some Hope. Patrick is now in his early 30s and it seems that he's on his way to coming to terms with everything that's happened to him, even though the shadow of his father is still very much present in the novel. Some Hope has the most acidic humor and biting dialogue that I've read in novels recently. It's quite surprising to find out that the sister of the queen of England can be a big b***h. The English really have sarcasm and acerbic wit to an art.

     'And who are you?' she (Princess Margaret) asked Johnny in the most gracious possible manner.

     'Johnny Hall,' said Johnny, extending a hand.
     The republican omission of ma'am, and the thrusting and unacceptable invitation to a handshake, were enough to convince the Princess that Johnny was a man of no importance.
     'It must be funny having the same name as so many other people,' she speculated. 'I suppose there are hundreds of John Halls up and down the country.'
     'It teaches one to look for distinction elsewhere and not to rely on an accident of birth,' said Johnny casually.
     'That's where people go wrong,' said the Princess, compressing her lips, 'there is no accident in birth.'
     She swept on before Johnny had a chance to reply.

The Booker-shortlisted 4th novel, Mother's Milk, is where we meet Patrick as a husband and a father to 2 sons. Apparently, he's made good on his aim to become a barrister. Still, Patrick now grapples with the tedium of marriage and family as he finds himself involved in adultery and in not-so-good terms with his mother. Eleanor, who is now battling Alzheimer's in a nursing home, has decided to give their family house in the south of France to a New Age foundation. Mother's Milk is heavy on themes: euthanasia, parenthood, fidelity, and letting go.

It's too bad that my edition doesn't have the 5th and last novel of this cycle, which is At Last. I'm sure it would have the same beautiful writing, sharp wit, harrowing narative, and bitter humor that these 4 novels have. So dear reader, you now know what my next book purchase will be.

Read these novels if:

1. You're fascinated with upperclass English families.
2. You love semi-autobiographical fiction.
3. You're into dysfunctional families.

Brotherly love

An enjoyable western novel is as common as frogs in a desert. That's why Patrick DeWitt's The Sisters Brothers is something that everybody should read. It's like western on crack.

So in DeWitt's Booker-shortlisted novel, we meet two brothers famous for being hired gunmen -- Eli and Charlie Sisters. Charlie is more brash than Eli, who seems to be falling in love with women who will simply give him the time of day. So when the Commodore decides to hire the brothers to murder someone named Herman Kermit Warm, it is Charlie who comes up with the plan and proposes to take a much bigger cut of the blood money from the Commodore.

Even though the novel's titled The Sisters Brothers, I think that Eli is the heart of the novel. It is through his character that DeWitt makes his narrative. And it is Eli who begins to question the way the two brothers lead their lives.

What's hilarious is how the two brothers find themselves in outrageous situations and yet Eli's voice is still deadpan. And the banter between the two brothers is priceless. One will always be surprised at the characters brothers meet along the way, from Oregen to San Francisco during the Gold Rush and finally to the Sierra foothills where Herman Kermit Warm is supposed to be.

...'What about you, brother? Are you up for a fight?'
'Hardly.'
Squinting, he asked, 'What's that under your coat?'
'A gift from the girl.'
'Is there to be a parade?'
'It's a simple bit of fabric to recall her by. A bonboniere, as Mother would say.'
He sucked his teeth. 'You should not wear it,' he said decisively.
'It's very expensive material, I think.'
'The girl has played a joke on you.'
'She is a serious person.'
'You look like the prize goose.' [page 147]

So now I've read 4 out of the 6 Booker-shortlisted novels in 2011. I'm with the Booker jury on their shortlist, for they chose novels that are enjoyable and readable. And I have to say that The Brothers Sisters is my favorite so far.

Read this book if:

1. You have a soft spot for westerns.
2. You love witty dialogues and outrageous situations.
3. You'll read anything with the word "Booker Prize" on the cover.

The year that was in reading

In just 3 days, we'll be saying good-bye to 2011 and then making those resolutions, futile and otherwise, for 2012. This got me to thinking though: What were my reading highlights for 2011?

To start, I read 111 books, which is fitting for the year '11, no? (I doubt if I'll be able to finish another novel in 3 days with all the get-togethers still squeezed within those 3 days.) And then, I looked back at all those 111 books and said to myself, "Why, yes! 2011 was a good year for KyusiReader!"

I discovered Gary D. Schmidt this year, who instantly became my favorite YA novelist. No magic, no vampires, not a hint of a fantastic element. Just pure storytelling brilliance. His are the kind of books that you want your children, nephews, nieces, classmates, strangers on the bus, and the sexy hunk next door to read.


And then there's Brandon Sanderson. Oh, Brandon, Brandon, Brandon. Where do you get all those friggin' ideas? A world where people use colors for magic, where a city inhabited by gods become cursed, where a gang of thieves can topple a tyrant. You made a lot of people realize that they don't need a George R. R. Martin to get their fantasy fix.


And speaking of GRRM, 2011 is the year when I finally got all hardcovers of A Song of Ice and Fire. Thanks, Iya, for the first edition of A Game of Thrones. In this edition, I can't help but snigger at the author bio, wherein it's mentioned that GRRM is currently at work on his 2nd novel, A Dance with Dragons.


On a lighter note, Tove Jansson's Moomin books were a constant delight. They're the perfect palate cleanser, something to read between those "serious" books. I've read the first 4 and can't wait to read the remaining 5 books.


It's also the year Penguin released their Red series. Again, another excuse for more mindless book buying. How can anyone resist the highly artistic covers! In the cover for D. H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers, for example, artist's inspiration was the woman's vulva.


How can I go wrong with classic science fiction? John Wyndham has given me the perfect escapist novels this year. Very, very enjoyable, I must say.


Y: The Last Man. Best graphic novels ever. Read them! Thankfully, the 5th deluxe edition (the last book) came out this year.


And it's been my tradition to collect the Booker shortlisted novels every year, no matter how late the books become available here in Manila. Funny thing is, I'm missing this year's winner, Julian Barnes's A Sense of an Ending. (So far, I've read only 2 of the 5 that I have. Hehehe.)


How about you, dear reader? What were your reading highlights this year?

I wanna go to Russia

Suddenly, after reading A. D. Miller's Booker shortlisted debut novel, Snowdrops, I had the urge to book a flight to Russia. Miller has a very enviable gift of describing settings. You feel the extremely uncomfortable cold in Moscow, where temperature can fall below zero (enough for your mobile to be stuck in your ungloved hand when you use it outside). In Moscow, you can sense the acrid taste of corruption and smell the desperation of its citizens.

I thought I would be reading a thriller, something fast paced with a clever resolution at the end. Snowdrops is something deliciously more than that. It is indeed a crime novel, but it's also a travelogue of sorts, portraying the Moscow that you wouldn't see in guidebooks, the Moscow where single women dress up as prostitutes and where cabdrivers can prey on their passengers. It's a very unflattering picture of Moscow that's depicted in Miller's debut novel, but Moscow is all the more fascinating for it.

'Snowdrop. Your friend is a snowdrop.' That's what the Russians call them -- the bodies that float up into the light in the thaw. Drunks, most of them, and homeless people who just give up and lie down into the whiteness, and murder victims hidden in the drifts by their killers. [page 3]

You know from the start of Snowdrops that something will go wrong. Nicholas Pratt, the main character of the novel, writes a letter to his fiancée, forming the novel's narrative. Nick is an expat, a lawyer assigned to work in Moscow. One day, he meets two girls who introduce themselves as sisters -- Masha and Katya. It is revealed later in the novel that these two aren't really sisters nor cousins. They are players in a scam involving selling housing units in Moscow. Miller adds an extra layer to his story -- the romantic relationship that develops between Masha and Nick.

How Nick becomes part of this scam unfolds slowly in the novel, but it's not the kind that leads to ennui. In fact, Miller's writing appears to be beautifully controlled, focusing more on character introspection. Masha and Katya urge Nick to help their old aunt named Tatiana Vladimirovna move out of her Moscow apartment and into a new residential building. That's the scam right there. Nick finds out that Tatiana isn't a relation to the girls, that the residential building is never meant to be lived in, that Masha and Katya duped Nick in giving money to an oily character who appears to be a middleman of some sort.

In the end, both girls disappear. Tatiana, whom Nick has grown fond of, also goes missing. It is never mentioned what happened to the old lady, but it's a good assumption that she's been murdered. Miller toys with the reader's imagination. You just know that something grisly has happened to Tatiana. I love authors like these.

Read this book if:

1. You've always wanted to visit Moscow.
2. You like novels with that Hitchcock feel to them.
3. You love the cold.