J-horror, it's a thing

My love for Japanese horror, or J-horror, knows no boundaries. We've always known that the Japanese can come up with weird shiz, but the horror stories they're able to conjure is simply inexplicable. But in a good way. In a horrific kind of good way. It's not for everyone though, especially if you're turned off by body horror or perverse sexual elements. But hey, if you're reading horror, then shouldn't you be expecting to be disturbed and made uncomfortable with the story?

I'm not really big on manga, the comics made by Japanese writers and artists, but I will make an exception to Junji Ito, who is now one of my favorite writers and storytellers. I just discovered him this year, when I randomly pulled Shiver, his 2017 collection, from the shelf of a local bookstore. I say randomly because whenever I'm in a reading slump, I usually turn to the graphic novels section of the bookstore and check out titles without any rhyme or reason. I discovered lots of wonderful graphic novels this way—Mazzucchelli's Asterios Polyp, Beauchard's Epileptic, and Brosgol's Anya's Ghost, to name a few. Interestingly, it was the bf who got me into reading graphic novels. Before the bf (B.B.F.), my middle class upbringing taught me to look down at these works, which is totally the fault of my parents.

Perhaps the only reason why I don't have much love for manga is that its stories are terribly slow. I'd probably have more fun watching paint dry or looking for wrinkles slowly develop on my face. But with Junji Ito though, I just never know what to expect. Well, I've read only his short fiction collection so far, but what I've read lets me get my horror fix, which I've been rarely getting from the horror novels I've finished lately. There's just something off right from the first page of the story that you could subtly detect, whether it's the oddly proportioned face of a character, the too-perfect veneer of a house, or the cheery friend who seems to be hiding her broken self. I revel in these stories. It's not at all like "The Twilight Zone," but more like the copulation of Hitchcock (for the suspense), Stirling (for the speculative aspect), King (for the jump scares), and Barker (for the out-of-this-world body horror).

I can't get enough of the body horror that Ito tells in some of his stories. In one story titled "Glyceride," a man pops his many pimples and lets the oil drip onto his sister. In "Dissection Girl," a girl dreams of being dissected alive and goes through great lengths just to make it happen. And those are just the "tame" ones, dear reader. There are far darker and grosser instances of this kind of terror in Ito's work.

Another thing I find unsettling in many of Ito's horror stories is his depiction of women. The way he draws his female monsters amd ghosts gives you that slight icky feeling. The blank eyes and facial expressions, the uncomfortably svelte figure, their hair which seems to have a life of their own—stuff of nightmares, I tell you. And it's because of this that I'm really glad that I'm gay. Anyway, check out these "ladies" in the pictures below. Note how the style of the illustrations also give them both a sexual and a predatory feel. But again, these do nothing for me, sexually I mean.

"Blackbird" from Fragments of Horror (2013-2014)

"Whispering Woman," also from Fragments of Horror

I love J-horror in all its forms. Ju-On and Ringu still remain as two of my favorite horror movies. Coincidentally, both also have elements of body horror and female antagonists. One other thing to note about J-horror is that the horror just happens without having the need for an explanation. So there's usually no tedious back story that we all have to painfully go through. It's the same thing with Junji Ito's stories. Weird stuff just happens, like people being chased by floating heads, a woman being turned on by a house and eventually having sex with it, and a man having all the heads of his ancestors living on top of his head. It's just is, man.

The books in my bag last weekend

It started in 1994

There was a time when I read close to 300 books a year. It's not that I had way too much time on my hands back then. I just graduated from college and immediately applied for a teaching job. So I had my first job and had no financial obligations whatsoever. That only meant one thing—most of my income went to books. So I bought books with abandon. I read all of them. I never had a TBR pile in the 1990s. Then I started this little tradition on the last day of the year: I'd take a look at all the books I read that year and come up with my best reads. And I just realized that I've been doing this thing for 24 years now.

So I've listed all my best reads since 1995 up to last year, dear readers. Here it is. Too bad that I didn't record the shortlist for all 23 years, as I just started doing that mid 2000s, I think.

2017 - What Belongs to You (Garth Greenwell)
2016 - A Little Life (Hanya Yanagihara)
2015 - All the Birds, Singing (Evie Wyld)
2014 - Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (Benjamin Alire Sáenz)
2013 - HHhH (Laurent Binet)
2012 - The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller)
2011 - The Wednesday Wars (Gary D. Schmidt) 

2010 - The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (Rebecca Skloot)
2009 - Memoirs of a Master Forger (William Heaney) and Gomorrah (Roberto Saviano)
2008 - The Elegance of the Hedgehog (Muriel Barbery)
2007 - The Historian (Elizabeth Kostova)
2006 - The Stolen Child (Keith Donohue)
2005 - The Schwa Was Here (Neal Shusterman)
2004 - The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (Mark Haddon)
2003 - Nobody’s Perfect (Anthony Lane)
2002 - The Crimson Petal and the White (Michel Faber)
2001 - American Gods (Neil Gaiman) and Hitler’s Pope (John Cornwall) 

2000 - The Farewell Symphony (Edmund White)
1999 - We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families (Philip Gourevitch)
1998 - The Professor and the Madman (Simon Winchester)
1997 - A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) and The Innocent (Ian McEwan)
1996 - The History of the Siege of Lisbon (José Saramago)
1995 - The Moral Animal (Robert Wright)
1994 - The Story of Mankind (Hendrik Willem van Loon)

Just a tiny bit embarrassed that the list leans heavily toward American and European authors, and the gender inequality is very testosterone-y. But hey, 3 women authors in this decade so far, no? So yes, I'm deluding myself that that's a step toward diversity.

I like that there's a few nonfiction books in this list. Gourevitch's account of the genocide that happened in Rwanda will always be my standard when it comes to reporting significant events. I'll always remember The Moral Animal because it posited a crazy but plausible theory—how monogamy may be disadvantageous to women who wish to move up the social ladder. And how could I not love Winchester's book about the origins of the Oxford English Dictionary? For snark and just plain brilliance, nothing compares to the collected reviews of Lane in Nobody's Perfect. Cornwall's fascination with the Vatican is evident in his account of the less-than-stellar life of Pope Pius XII.

Of course, there are novels aplenty. A few of them now so obscure that I can feel you itch to Google, dear reader. I've read almost all of Saramago's works, but none has made a greater impact than The History of the Siege of Lisbon. It involves a proofreader who consciously puts an error by inserting "not" into the narrative, and then coming up with a totally different historical account just to justify that word. For sheer storytelling, the speculative and otherwise, nothing beats Gaiman and his doorstop of a novel. Also a doorstop is Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White, an engaging read about a prostitute in Victorian England.

My weakness for gay novels shows in this list, yes? I count five, with four just in this decade. Point me to someone who hasn't been affected by Yanagihara's A Little Life. And how many of us cried when we finished The Song of Achilles? White's The Farewell Symphony manages to be erotic and touching at the same time.

If there's one book that I'd like to bring to your attention, dear reader, it's Donohue's The Stolen Child. Probably because I feel that not many people know about it. It's about a boy abducted by goblins and is forced to live with them, and the changeling that takes his place. I was heartbroken when I finished it, and I remember that I kept thinking about this book for weeks. Yes, it's fantasy, but the mythology is very much rooted in our culture, and the emptiness that each character feels gets to you. Look for this, dear reader. You're in for a treat.

By the way, 2016 was the worst year ever in my reading life. I managed to read just roughly 20 books. I blame Netflix.

#poser
I've never read Sherlock Holmes.

Why read Faggots

Because it's Pride Month! Because this 1978 novel is groundbreaking. Because there's a sexy Winston cigarette man. Because it's a study of excess, and like all things excessive, it's heartbreaking to know what will happen later, when all things bright, care-free, pleasurable, and orgasmic come crashing down because of disease. Ah, Faggots, I couldn't recommend you enough.

Most people would know Larry Kramer as the playwright who penned "The Normal Heart," the play that has AIDS and the gay generation who first suffered because of it as its center. I love that play. If you haven't read it or seen it on stage, please do and have a box of tissues at your side. I guess the same thing can be said of Faggots. You still need a box of tissue, but for a different kind of body fluid. Wink, wink.

Of the 2,639,857 faggots in the New York city area, 2,639,857 think primarily with their cocks.
You didn't know that the cock was a thinking organ?
Well, by this time, you should know that it is.
― Larry Kramer, Faggots 

Faggots is a wonderfully dated work. I feel its appeal and charm grows through the years. It's somewhat of an autobiographical work, as the main character, Fred Lemish, is loosely based on Larry Kramer. Lemish is one of the many characters we meet in this kaleidoscope of a novel, where each character comes to grips with his sexuality, his place in the 1970s gay community, his continuous search for sex, love, and belongingness.

Never again will the gay community experience such excess, where it's de rigeur to go to bath houses, participate in orgies, be oblivious to people watching you as you engage in sex. The 1970s were a time when people actually had to go out of their houses to hook up. There wasn't any Grindr to speak of. There weren't any pics of your private parts going around. You have to see these intimate parts up close, usually in the club's bathroom. And if you approve, you take him home.

One of the characters in the novel is the handsome and sexy Winston man,
who is clearly a shoutout to the classic Marlboro man. 
The mustache was big among gay men in the 70s and the early 80s.
Hmmmm . . . mustaches. Reminds me of this very un-PC joke:
Why do gay men wear a mustache? To hide the stretchmarks. Tasteless, I know.

The 1970s was quite hedonistic, as it was the pre-AIDS era. Pretty much everyone humped like rabbits. We do know what happens after that period, yes? But that is a discussion for another day. In Faggots, it's all about drugs and sex. The novel portrayed the gay community back then in such an honest light that it showed some unflattering aspects of gay men. A few gay activist groups cried foul. Manhattan's one and only gay bookstore at that time even pulled the novel out of its shelves. I guess the truth really hurts. So Faggots basically pissed off both the straight and the gay communities.

In a way, I feel indebted to the characters in Faggots. These people belonged to a generation that was instrumental in LGBT equality. These were the first gay men who had the courage to go out in public and declare their sexuality. Yes, some of them were persecuted for it, and some of them died because of the unsafe sex they all practiced. But today's LGBT community would have never existed because of these people. For a few years back then, they partied, and they partied hard. But they will never party like that ever again. Their fight started the long battle toward equality. And it's still far from over though.

Even the title of the book is an indication of its now-classic status. I would never ever call someone a f-----. I don't want to go to gay hell. You can even get flak for calling someone this name, like what happened to this Gray's Anatomy actor. It's pretty much like the "n" word now. But unlike the "n" word, it's seldom used among gay men. Now, it's all about "queer." We have queer cinema, queer lit, queer everything.

We're here, we're queer, and we have fierce queer faces. LOL.
With my good friend Orly, who blogs about theater, books, and whatnot.
My goodness, it took so many takes just to get this shot. (27 takes, I think.)
That fierce look is so difficult to pull off! My cheekbones hurt.

In Faggots, there's no sugarcoating to what was happening to gay men in the 1970s. There's no bubblegum romance angle. There are no twee story lines. The novel feels very gritty, but it's also funny as hell. The dialog and the one-liners are a gas.

“Holy shit," somebody muttered in the dark.
"A virgin," sputtered another.
"I didn't know they still made them."
"He just did.” 

“Looking thirty, claiming forty, actually forty-five.” 

I do make it a point to read LGBT books every now and then. My favorite read last year was a gay-themed young adult novel (Aristotle and Date Discover the Secrets of the Universe). I consider Edmund White, Sarah Waters, and Alan Hollinghurst to be literary gods. I love Edmund White's A Boy's Own Story and The Farewell Symphony to bits. But I have never read a novel like Faggots. It's raunchy, hysterical, always on point, and fascinating. And it took me to a time when everyone scratched one another's itch, shoot drugs like there's no tomorrow, and basically live your queer life like it's the last day of this queer effing world.

One of the funnier queer novels I've read recently is Robert Rodi's Closet Case.
A bit dated, as the novel was published in 1993. Still campy and a riot though.
Again, so many takes just to get the right look for this picture.
You should've seen the photographer's face. It was fierce, but in a non-queer way.

Why read The Old Man and the Sea

Ah, Papa Hemingway. I just love your sparse sentences. Sometimes, I try out your writing style. Just the subject, followed by a short predicate. It reads like crap though. Like the sentences in this paragraph. Such a total waste of virtual real estate. So I bow down before you, Papa Hemingway. You make it seem so easy.

My first Ernest Hemingway read was A Farewell to Arms. That book made me an instant fan. I reread a few pages of it last month, as the book club's theme for May was all about Ernest Hemingway: his works and a bio. Then I realized that some of the lines spoken by the main characters are just so insufferable. I gag, but in a good way.

Here's a rather simpler way to show this to you, dear reader. Man asks, "Do you love me?" Woman responds, "No." Man asks again, "Do you love me?" Woman responds again, "No." Man asks for the third time, "Do you love me?" Woman finally admits, "Yes." To which the man says, "I like your hair." Argh!

The book club's swag during the discussion
I wonder if Papa H would approve of all these.
Somehow, I imagine him thinking, "Great. More stuff I don't need."

But I'm not here to talk about A Farewell to Arms. I love that book too much to talk badly about it. What I want to discuss is a much shorter work of Hemingway, which is The Old Man and the Sea. I'm not too sure how to categorize it—is it a novel, a short story (that's gone too long), or a novella? Let's just call this a novella. I love that I suddenly became all gung-ho and just decided that for you, dear reader.

Anyway, The Old Man and the Sea is the perfect book to read if you haven't read any of Hemingway's works. It's short, which will make you instantly decide if you like his writing style or not. It's also what I would like to call a gateway novel. It connects Hemingway's older works with his later fictions. It won the Pulitzer Prize, and I think it just might be the work that tipped the Nobel committee to award him the Nobel Prize for literature.

Wasn't Papa Hemingway a hottie? I get palpitations looking at this.
He served as an ambulance driver during  World War I.
Well, he can take me to the hospital anytime. 

I am partial to Hemingway's earlier works though. The Sun Also Rises and A Farewell to Arms are just brilliant. His later novels were hits and misses. The novel that preceded The Old Man and the Sea was very much lambasted by critics; it prompted Hemingway to write something that he said will be his best work. I don't think The Old Man and the Sea is his best though. But a lot of people from the book club liked it, which is good enough for me.

I don't think the novella is about man versus nature; it's more of a man-versus-himself kind of thing. The old man and the marlin that he has caught and held on for a few days are like mirror images. Only a great man can catch a formidable inhabitant of the sea. And having caught the marlin, the old man proved that he still had it in him. He still got his mojo. He rocks.

What I didn't get in the novella are all those religious references pertaining to the old man. He was supposed to represent Christ. He got wounds on his hands which some people compared to, ummmm, the stigmata. And when he finally went home after having spent several days in the sea holding on to that marlin, he collapsed in his bed in a position similar to Christ being nailed on the cross. Whatever. But the novella did make me crave for sushi. Mmmmm. . . Having fresh sushi—now that's a religious experience.

Oh, and this is the first official book club discussion that I attended this year. There's just been too much work. And I had to keep R. company, as the past few months were a very difficult period for him. Well, it definitely felt good to be back, and what better time than a discussion on one of my favorite authors.

R. (right) and I (left), after the book club discussion
Yes, we both wear reading glasses now.
No, we are not hipsters.

We also got the chance to read any biographical work on Ernest Hemingway. I didn't finish mine though. But thank goodness for Wikipedia, yes? From what I read of Papa Hemingway's life, he certainly did lead a very interesting one. War veteran at 19, married 4 strong women, lived in 4 continents, struggled with depression, took his own life. Compared to his, my life seems very much uneventful. But looking at what happened to Hemingway during his twilight years, I realized that uneventful is good.

I opted to read A. E. Hotchner's classic memoir of the time
he spent with Ernest Hemingway. It's a heartbreaking read.

My 11 favorite reads of 2014

Quantity-wise, 2014 hasn't been a good reading year for me. I've read just a little over 30! And to think that I usually average around 100 books in a year. Something must have happened. And that something is TV. I've been watching TV a lot these days. It has become my "go to" for stories. And TV has been coming up with a lot of interesting shows lately, yes?

Nevertheless, I did read some good books this year, and I've listed my 11 favorite reads below. Now why an uneven 11? Originally, I had a list of 10 books, which I compiled mid-December. I figured I'm never going to get any reading done during the holidays, with the numerous parties. It's gotten so ridiculous lately, that I sometimes say no to a few of them because of scheduling conflicts.

Also, I thought that I would just use the free time I to catch up on sleep. I've only been getting 5 hours max of sleep leading to the holidays because of work and personal stuff. But in the last week, I chanced upon this young adult novel at a bookstore while waiting for a friend. So I bought it, went to a café, and before I knew it, I was halfway through!

10 of 11 of my favorites for 2014

Anyway, here are my 10 favorite reads for this year, in random order.

• Lexicon by Max Barry – The science fiction buzz book of 2013. Yes, the hype is warranted! Quite an exhilarating read.
• Wasted by Gerry Alanguilan – A locally published graphic novel about a man thwarted by love. Violent and extremely graphic. Loved it.
• The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender – Such a heartbreaking read, this one is. Made me teary eyed.
• Rapture Practice by Aaron Hartzler – A memoir about a boy coming to terms with his sexuality, while living with his religious parents.
• Dolly by Susan Hill – Not as scary as The Woman in Black, but still creepy and atmospheric. Hill rules the ghost story genre!
• Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer – The first book in the Southern Reach trilogy. Made me curious about the other 2 books.
• The Children Act by Ian McEwan – I'll read anything by McEwan. I've always admired how controlled McEwan's writing is.
• Tree by F. Sionil Jose – The 2nd book of the Rosales Saga. I loved its episodic chapters and its symbolism.
• The Bees by Laline Paull – This spoke to the biologist in me. Paull's debut fiction rocked my geeky brain.
• Saga Volume 3 by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Stapes – Still the best ongoing graphic novel series out there. Couldn't quit it.

My favorite read for 2014

And my favorite read for 2014 is this—Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. It's a deeply moving coming-of-age story about 2 boys. I turned the final page, went online, and then immediately recommended it to everyone. It deals with finding love, getting to know what you really want, and coming to terms with family. I highly recommend it!

So how about you, dear reader? How was your 2014, reading-wise?

A meet-and-greet with one of my favorite graphic novelists

If you're free this weekend, do drop by at Fully Booked to see Arnold Arre and hear him talk about his much beloved graphic novel, The Mythology Class.

I've read The Mythology Class several years ago, and I distinctly remember being blown away by it. It's one of those works that you treasure and you recommend to your friends.

I'm so glad that it's finally being reprinted by Nautilus Comics with 3 different covers this time! Am I getting another copy? Hell, yes!

Scalzi and TV

If I would have to choose a favorite contemporary science fiction writer, I'd definitely mention John Scalzi. Redshirts, one of his newest novels, was one of my favorite reads last year.

I also enjoyed his Old Man's War novels. These are books that are heavy on military themes and science fiction elements. I'm not really big on everything military, but I did enjoy these novels, especially the first one, Old Man's War. The second book, The Ghost Brigades, which is a sequel of sorts, is quite action-packed and yet quite philosophical. I still have to finish the third book, The Last Colony. And I believe that there are still more books in this series as well.

What joy it is to find out that these novels are now being turned into a TV series! This TV series is definitely something to binge-watch. I. Can't. Wait.

Anyway, the TV shows might not appear anytime soon. So there'll still be at least a year to read all the Old Man's War novels, and probably a few other works of Scalzi. He writes very entertaining novels. And he's funny as hell.

On a reading high

So last Sunday, we decided to stay at home and just catch up on whatever stuff that needs catching up on. For me of course, that would have to be reading. As I slept at 8 pm last Saturday night, I woke up at 3 am, logged on to Facebook (goodness, 390+ likes for that photo!), checked my emails and downloadables, and started reading this latest novel by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah.

I bought Americanah on a whim, as I think I remember reading about it that the novel was optioned by Lupita Nyong'o. With my A to Z classics challenge, I figured I wasn't recently reading contemporary novels more often than before.

And then I checked the clock on my wall. It was already 8 am! I almost missed breakfast! Americanah is that good, dear reader. No wonder it received a lot of awards this year and last. The hype is oh so true! Read it! Read it! Read it!

I can't remember the last time I was so enamored with a book. So passionate I felt about this novel that I just wanna rush to the nearest bookstore and get all the novels written by Ms Chimamanda. I actually called my favorite bookstore and found out that they have only Americanah in stock, and there's no news as to whether they'll stock the earlier works of this author. Sucks vacuum cleaners.

The last time I felt like this after discovering a very talented author was after finishing José Saramago's The History of the Siege of Lisbon. That novel instantly converted me into a Saramago fan, making me read most of his novels. But The History of the Siege of Lisbon will always be my favorite Saramago. The novel combined history with proofreading! Orgasmic.

The hunt is on for the works of Ms Chimamanda. I never figured that I'd be interested in fiction which is very much centered on Nigeria. Americanah is just too beautiful, and I hope that the author's other works would be just as satisfying as this one.

Creepy dolls

Dolls are creepy. And what's even creepier is if dolls find their way in the hands of Susan Hill. Yes, Hill of The Woman in Black fame has a new ghost story, and it involves decaying house, two young cousins, and lots of Gothic atmosphere. I knew at the onset that I would like this.

In Dolly, we meet Edward Cayley, an orphan, who would spend one summer at his Aunt Kestrel's creepy house in Iyot Lock. Edward would be spending the summer with his cousin, Leonora von Vorst. While the two children almost have the same ages, they couldn't be more different. Edward is pensive and sensitive, and Leonora is terribly spoiled.

Everything seems to be quite an uneventful summer, notwithstanding Leonora's tantrums and complaints. But this is a ghost story after all, and there must be a turning point for these innocuous happenings. In this novel, everything changes on Leonora's birthday, when Aunt Kestrel presents Leonora with a beautiful lifelike doll. But it's not what Leonora had in mind though. Leonora then flings the doll to the wall, cracking its porcelain face and storms out of the room. Edward takes it upon himself to get rid of the doll by burying it outside the house.

Years pass and Edward recalls the many times he has spent other summers at his aunt's. Leonora, on the other hand, never returns. It's only upon the death of Aunt Kestrel when the two meet again to discuss the terms of the will. It appears that their aunt has left everything to Edward. And what about Leonora? She gets the doll her aunt gave her on her 9th birthday. Edward shows Leonora where he buried the doll and reveals it. What was inside the box shocked them. The doll has aged in all those years it was under the ground.

Dolly doesn't stop here though. We get to read how Edward has suffered many sleepless nights hearing a disturbig sound, a sound made by someone, or something, scraping on paper. Edward knows that it's the buried doll, of course. It's calling out to him, as if it were asking him to set it free.

In the novel's final chapters, we get to know how Leonora runs out of money and asks Edward to give her the house. She's down on her luck—divorced, with a 2-year-old baby daughter, and without money. Edward, now a successful man, agrees to have Leonora stay at Iyot Lock. But then makes a very unwise decision. He finds an intricate Indian princess doll in one of his trips and gives it to Leonora. She wouldn't accept it though, and sends it back to him. When he opens the package from Leonora, what the doll looks like now would haunt him. Gone were its beautiful Indian features. The doll now had the features of a crone.

Dolly is one chilling read. Like her other ghost stories, it's almost like a novella at 150 pages. It doesn't quite hold up to the scariness of The Woman in Black, the bleak mood of The Small Hand, or the sense of dread of The Man in the Picture. But it's still a very satisfying read. I just hope that Susan Hill never stops coming out with ghost stories.

Read this book if:

1. You love short scary reads.
2. You know that dolls are creepy.
3. You'll read anything by Susan Hill.

My 100 favorite books

When the book club decided to have an unofficial discussion of Donna Tartt's The Secret History, I got really excited. After all, it's one of my favorite novels ever. I recall reading it almost 20 years ago and having been floored by Tartt's exquisite prose and thrilling story. I'm rereading it now. Because, you know, I've turned 40, so technically, I read The Secret History during my "mid-life," so I've forgotten most of its details.

Anyway, Tartt's novel made me think about my favorite books. I remember coming up with a list before, but I just haven't posted a blog entry about it. So last night, I wrote down in my journal my 100 favorite books. It took me a couple of hours.

The list surprised me. For one, I never realized how much I prefer fiction to nonfiction, and novels to other literary forms. No poetry book made it on my list, and I listed just 1 graphic novel as a favorite, even though I read a lot of those lately. Also, there's a dearth of locally published books in my list. Have to fix that ASAP.

So here's my list, dear readers. I've listed the books according to categories. I know that some of these categories may be debatable and that some books cut across different categories, but just indulge me and let's go with them. Except for the first group, my top 10, all the books in the other categories (the remaining 90 of them) are listed in no particular order.

My top 10
1. I, Claudius – Robert Graves
2. Independent People – Halldór Laxness
3. One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel García Marquez
4. The History of the Siege of Lisbon – José Saramago
5. The Story of Mankind – Hendrik Willem Van Loon
6. The House of Mirth – Edith Wharton
7. The Secret History – Donna Tartt
8. The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
9. We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families – Philip Gourevitch
10. The Stolen Child – Keith Donohue

Nonfiction (13)

The Moral Animal – Robert Wright
The Discoverers – Daniel Boorstin
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – Dave Eggers
The Professor and the Madman – Simon Winchester
The Elegant Universe – Brian Greene
Hitler’s Pope – John Cornwall
Nobody’s Perfect – Anthony Lane
Gomorrah – Roberto Saviano
The Man Who Ate Everything – Jeffrey Steingarten
The Man Who Loved Only Numbers – Paul Hoffman
Deluxe – Dana Thomas
The Wives of Henry VIII – Antonia Fraser
The Omnivore’s Dilemma – Michael Pollan

Classics (30)
Jane Eyre – Charlotte Brontë
The Return of the Native – Thomas Hardy
The Portrait of a Lady – Henry James
An American Tragedy – Theodore Dreiser
Women in Love – D. H. Lawrence
Melmoth the Wanderer – Charles Maturin
The Monk – Matthew Gregory Lewis
Dracula – Bram Stoker
Siddhartha – Herman Hesse
Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
Henderson the Rain King – Saul Bellow
Of Human Bondage – W. Somerset Maugham
The Magus – John Fowles
Les Misérables – Victor Hugo
Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
Stoner – John Williams
Don’t Look Now and Other Stories – Daphne Du Maurier
The Brothers Karamazov – Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Collected Stories of Vladimir Nabokov
The Collected Stories of John Cheever
Fantastic Tales – edited by Italo Calvino
Catch-22 – Joseph Heller
Ragtime – E. L. Doctorow
Forbidden Colors – Yukio Mishima
The Age of Reason – Jean-Paul Sartre
The Call of the Wild – Jack London
Invisible Man – Ralph Ellison
A Farewell to Arms – Ernest Hemingway
The End of the Affair – Graham Greene

Contemporary fiction (24)
The Chess Garden – Brooks Hansen
The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman – Louis de Bernières
The Innocent – Ian McEwan
American Gods – Neil Gaiman
The Woman in Black – Susan Hill
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle – Haruki Murakami
The World According to Garp – John Irving
The Crimson Petal and the White – Michel Faber
A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
The Historian – Elizabeth Kostova
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time – Mark Haddon
Salem’s Lot – Stephen King
Ghost Story – Peter Straub
Weaveworld – Clive Barker
The Elegance of the Hedgehog – Muriel Barbery
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo – Stieg Larsson
Out – Natsuo Kirino
The Talented Mr Ripley – Patricia Highsmith
A Thousand Splendid Suns – Khaled Hosseini
The Unconsoled – Kazuo Ishiguro
The Bonfire of the Vanities – Tom Wolfe
The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafón
The White Tiger – Aravind Adiga
The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood

Science fiction and fantasy (7)
Inverted World – Christopher Priest
The Day of the Triffids – John Wyndham
A Game of Thrones – George R. R. Martin
Perdido Street Station – China Miéville
Dune – Frank Herbert
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea – Jules Verne
Altered Carbon – Richard Morgan

Young adult and children's (8)
The Westing Game – Ellen Raskin
Pop Stories for Groovy Kids (Green Edition) – Nick Joaquin
The Chaos Walking Trilogy – Patrick Ness
His Dark Materials Trilogy – Philip Pullman
The Hunger Games – Suzanne Collins
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – J. K. Rowling
Across the Nightingale Floor – Lian Hearn
The Schwa Was Here – Neal Shusterman

LGBT (6)
Tales from the City – Armistead Maupin
Sucking Sherbet Lemons – Michael Carson
Faggots – Larry Kramer
The Farewell Symphony – Edmund White
Boy Meets Boy – David Levithan
Rainbow Boys – Alex Sanchez

Graphic novel (1)
Y: The Last Man – Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra

I know that this list is a dynamic one, and it'll constantly change for some reasons. I'm still trying to find that poetry collection that will blow me away. And with my dead guy challenge this year, I might add more books in the classics category. I live in exciting times.

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.

Feels like Star Wars, but it's nothing like it

I'm still reeling over Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples's Saga Volume 1. Really, it's the best graphic novel that I've read. Ever. And I thought that Vaughan topped himself with Y: The Last Man. I was wrong, but in a damn good way.

One of my favorite websites, io9, came up with a list of reasons why everyone should read Saga. They nailed it perfectly. The space operatic story, the nuanced characters, the exotic settings—everything worked beautifully. If you're not into graphic novels, Saga will win you over. It's that perfect example on how some stories can only be told in the graphic novel medium.

Saga is about star-crossed lovers. Alana, a soldier from the family Landfall, falls in love with Marko, a fighter from Landfall's only moon called Wreath. There's just one problem, a big one in fact: Landfall and Wreath have been at war with each other. The war has been going on for so long that they've now "outsourced" their fighting in other planets.

Of course, it doesn't help that the romance between Alana and Marko results in an offspring—a baby girl named Hazel who has Alana's wings and Marko's horns. Somehow, I felt that Vaughan alludes to angels and devils in characterizing the people of Landfall, who all have wings (reptilian and avian), and those of Wreath, who all have horns of different structures (some antler-, bull-, and deer-like). The Landfallen are experts at military weapons, so it seems, and the Wreath have the ability to do magic. So, yes, Saga effectively combines the tropes of science fiction and fantasy.

Then there are the other characters, which are just beautifully weird. Bounty hunters named The Will and The Stalk, both of which were hired by Wreath to kill Alana and Marko. The Stalk is actually half woman and half spider. Needless to say, she's scary as hell. And then there are the automatons, people with TV monitors for heads, who are allied with Landfall. If you think that's weird, wait until you get to the panels showing them having doggy-style sex or taking a dump. Then you've seen it all.

My favorite character would have to be The Will's companion, Lying Cat. It can tell whether a person is saying the truth or not. I wouldn't want it to be within 10 feet of me because, you know, lying . . . it's in my nature.

Don't you just love that face? Adorable.

I wonder what the toilet smells like.

Hazel is born.

The Stalk is so sexy.

Argh! How long will I have to wait for the series to finish? Volume 2 just came out this year, and I've already finished it. I can't get enough of Vaughan's gift of storytelling and Staples's talent for drawing. Saga is an edge-of-your-seat read, and it's my favorite read of the year so far.

Read this book if:

1. You have the patience to wait for the next installment.
2. You have a love-hate affair with Star Wars.
3. You have a thing for star-crossed lovers.

Standing on the shoulders of angels

A few years ago, showing two boys kissing on the cover would have been unimaginable. Now, some people still think it's groundbreaking. I feel it's right, and that it's just about effing time.

Until yesterday, my favorite David Levithan was Boy Meets Boy, which I deemed so perfect. (How can DL top this, no?) But last night, on the same day I got a copy, I finished Two Boys Kissing, his latest novel. And, boy oh boy, is it so damn good! And this post is my total, all-out, I'm-not-worthy, completely-blown-off-through-the-roof rave about it.

While Two Boys Kissing shows, well, two boys kissing, it's not all about the kiss. DL uses it as a device to tell a fine story. And it's a story told by unseen voices of an older generation of gay men. These are the people who got sick of AIDS, who bore the brunt of unequal treatment, who were chastised for their colorful individuality, who were told that they should be ashamed of their "unnatural" desires. But because of them, we now know that it does get better.

There are quite a few story lines in Two Boys Kissing, all involving young teenaged gay men. There's Craig and Henry, who are officially no longer a couple but are determined to set the world's record for the longest kiss of more than 30 hours. Amidst them are Peter and Neil, who are a couple, and they seem to settle issues between them like fairly normal adults. Neil's heritage is Korean, and the way he asks his parents to acknowledge his sexuality is one of the high points of the novel. You gotta love a teenager who's so secure of his sexuality. And again, we have the older generation to thank for giving us that confidence. His medical condition does not define him.

We also learn to love Avery and Ryan, two boys who have just met at a gay prom and are starting their relationship. Pink-haired Avery was born with a medical condition—he was born in a girl's body. When he was very young, he received hormone shots. But the treatments, we are told, will continue, and yet somehow, DL makes it seem irrelevant. What's important, the novel seems to say, is that we are living and that we have the ability to love. Avery does love, and it's glorious to read his budding romance with Ryan. The fact that Avery has to have complete privacy when he goes to the toilet is just an inconvenience.

There's also our single gay guy, Cooper. He spends most of his free time immersed in hook-up sites and apps. If you're a gay guy, you'll all be too familiar with Grindr, yes? In the end, he realizes that hook-ups are shallow. They're all well and good to scratch that itch (oh, we're all too familiar with that), but they don't allow you to connect. Cooper is still lucky to have this way of meeting people like him; the older generation had it more difficult. They cruised, they assembled, they used landlines, they made eye contact. But they still found like-minded people. And that in itself is a celebration.

Let's face it, it took us several years to make people believe that we're just like everyone else. Slowly, one baby step at a time, we're getting equal rights. We're standing on the right side of history, and people are embracing us closer. Yes, there will always be people who hate, who condemn, who feel disgust, but we're no longer riled up as we used to be. Two Boys Kissing always reminds us of that. These were the men who were physically hurt solely for being gay. They were the people who were beaten and sometimes left to die because of their sexuality.

There are so many good and touching things in Two Boys Kissing. DL writes beautifully and every page emits a glorious lyricism. We cheer on Craig and Henry and hope that they do break that record. We then realize that it's not the record that will matter but the fact that two boys can actually kiss in public is a cause for celebration. We root for Avery and Ryan and hope that their romance blossoms. We revel in Peter and Neil's relationship and wish that all couples have their stability. We want to hold Cooper and tell him that it's going to be all right.

I could go on and on as to why you should read Two Boys Kissing. It has something for everyone—gay, straight, out and proud, closeted, the young, and the wise. It will make you feel sad in some parts, but you end up richer for the reading experience.

Read this book if:

1. You think that people should see more boys kissing.
2. You love LGBT fiction.
3. You want a reason to celebrate.

Girl gone a-cuckoo

Ah, Rosamund Pike. You underrated British actress you. I can't wait to see you wow everyone in the big screen adaptation of Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. You'd kill them all (pun intended). Blonde, sexy, and so talented–you're a natural for the part. I'm so happy they didn't go for the cookie cutter Hollywood actress. Rosamund Pike, it's your time to shine. But first, let's talk about the book.

I read my first Gillian Flynn thriller years ago, a dark Southern gothic entitled Sharp Objects. Then I read my second–Dark Places, and I also wasn't disappointed. With Gone Girl, I am on a Gillian Flynn high. Yes, all the raves and hype are merited. Gone Girl is pure mess-up-your-head, who-is-the-more-reliable-narrator, wait-until-you-get-to-the-twisted-ending fun.

The gone girl in the novel is Amy, whom Rosamund Pike will be playing. She's married to 34-year-old Nick. Nick and Amy now live in a small town in Missouri, after having been both laid off from their jobs in New York City. Nick decides to return to his hometown to care for his mother, essentially removing his moneyed and beautiful wife from her NYC roots. Gone Girl is written in chapters where we read the alternating points of view of Nick and Amy.

In the novel's first part, I have basically made up my mind that it was Nick who did it. You see, Amy has gone missing on the couple's 5th anniversary. Nick has a few skeletons up his sleeve: the very young mistress, his unexplained whereabouts on the morning of his wife's disappearance, and the enormous credit card bills, to name a few. And it doesn't help that Amy, in the chapters written as diary entries, comes off as one sweet, self-sacrificing wife who seems to be getting more and more afraid for her life because of Nick's violet tendencies recently.

But in the second part of Gone Girl, Flynn throws us a curveball. Amy might not be right in the head after all. The disappearance could have been the result of months of meticulous planning on Amy's part. All right, I'll say it–Nick could have been framed. What happens after that can be likened to a slow burn, a deep and satisfying unravelling of the fucked up mind of Amy and the lengths that she can go to punish her husband. Yes, she knows about the affair and she's determined not to just grin and bear it.

Gone Girl is so wonderful in its portrayal of a sick mind that you forget how slow it can be in the first few chapters. One wonders if Gillian Flynn can top this. Her novels just seem to get better and better. But before the next Flynn thriller hits the bookstores, I'm ecstatic that there's the movie to look forward to. And, Rosamund Pike!

Read this book if:

1. You're a big fan of twisted endings in thrillers.
2. You love the slow burn.
3. You think it's a must to read the book first before the book comes out.

Is this my favorite read of the year so far? Probably.

Although we're still only halfway through the year, my experience reading Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment would be hard to top. If there's a novel wherein I completely immersed myself in, it's this Russian classic novel. I love, love, love every bit of it.

Crime and Punishment was our book club's selection last month, so I was really looking forward to the discussion. I kinda had an inkling that not many people would like this, and I was indeed correct. We did have a very engaging discussion nonetheless.

Dostoevsky's novel is the kind of book that elicits a lot of feelings from the reader. Dostoevsky is a realist, so his treatment of poverty isn't romanticized at all. More than anything, I felt that poverty in Russia during the 1800s was a way of life. I wouldn't want to live in St. Petersburg during the 1800s. Fyodor describes it as very bleak, cramped, and poverty-stricken.

Rodion, the novel's main character, murders an unscrupulous woman and her sister early in the novel. He considers the crime to be a rational act, thinking that he did everybody else a favor by killing this pawnbroker who seems to take advantage of people. Crime and Punishment has a plethora of other characters, but I chose to just keep my eyes on Rodion. Everything revolves around him anyway.

The punishment mentioned in the title is meted only by the novel's end, the epilogue actually. So what, you may ask, does Rodion do throughout the novel? Dostoevsky chooses to take the character redemption route. We see Rodion get sick as soon as he committed the murder. We witness how irrational he can be when he justifies to himself the crime. We experience his dealings with the people in his surroundings (his family included). In the cramped world of Crime and Punishment, everyone seems to know everyone else.

Of course, redemption can come when one accepts that he or she did something wrong and is prepared to suffer the consequences for it. For Rodion, that path is never easy. But he meets Sonya, a prostitute, who becomes instrumental to Rodion's confessing to the crime. Reading this entire journey, from the murder to the confession, is one very satisfying experience.

I know that one shouldn't compare apples and oranges, but I can't help doing so with Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. I love Anna Karenina, which I also read recently. However, finishing Crime and Punishment is something I consider more rewarding. Now I want to read The Idiot or even reread The Brothers Karamazov!

I even took a few notes before coming to the discussion.
Yes, that's how much I love Crime and Punishment!

Read this book if:

1. You love them Russians.
2. You'll read anything translated by Pevear and Volokhonsky. (I know I would.)
3. See more reasons here.

2 brothers, 3 Italian cities, and 1 girl

So far, I've read 5 novels by David Levithan, and, thankfully, not 1 of them has been a disappointment. Even this non-LGBT novel, Are We There Yet?, is quite delightful. It's the perfect book to bring to the beach or while on vacation in an exotic country.

It feels that we've been here before though: 2 brothers with very different personalities are set up by their parents to go on vacation in a faraway European country. With this trip, the parents do hope that 23-year-old Danny and 16-year-old Elijah rekindle their sense of brotherhood and camaraderie.

My first thought upon reading the opening chapters was I wish that my parents would have the same idea. Minus the age gap, I think the dynamic between David and Elijah is more or less similar to my relationship with my brother. Those who have brothers completely understand when I say that it's a very weird dynamic, that between brothers. One minute you're literally grabbing each other's throats; the next, you're asking money from each other. Inexplicably, your brother is your best friend and your worst enemy at the same time.

Are We There Yet? isn't fluff. While Levithan does fall short in providing a strong sense of place for the cities that the brothers visit, he does focus on a historical Jewish ghetto in Venice. And that portion of the trip creates a significant impression on David and Elijah.

Of course, there has to be hints of romance, or at least the possibility of a romance. So enter a college girl named Julia who comes between David and Elijah. Both become smitten, but none of them don't get the girl. In fact, Julia is instrumental in making Elijah realize how much he misses the girl he left at his prep school.

Are We There Yet? is charming. It's one of David Levithan's novels that do not have a major gay or lesbian character, but it's still enjoyable nonetheless. For one, it makes you want to pack your bags and leave for Venice, or Florence, or Rome! I know I want to. And the masochist in me wants to bring my brother along.

Read this book if:

1. You love Italy.
2. You know the pros and cons of traveling with a family member.
3. Because David Levithan.

The saddest line you can say to someone

When novelist Iain Banks found out that he had just a few months to live because he was dying of gall bladder cancer, he uttered the most morose line that I've ever read. Proposing to his partner, long-time girlfriend Adele Hartley, Banks said,

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my widow?"

My heart just breaks every time I think about that line. Only a good novelist can pull off something like that, yes? And I believe that Banks was one damn good writer. When I learned that he died last week, I thought that I should read more of his works.

I really enjoyed his debut, that critically acclaimed novel entitled The Wasp Factory. I enjoyed it so much that it was one of my favorite reads in 2011. And Banks wrote great SF works, too. His Culture novels are considered landmarks in the genre. I've read just the first so far—Consider Phlebas—and found it mind blowing. I should read more of his SF works.

When I went to the bookstore last week, I was fortunate to find 2 of his non-SF novels, pictured below. He had particularly quirk though. When he wrote "literary fiction," he would just go with Iain Banks, and then using Iain M. Banks when writing SF. I love his novels, with or without the M.

Burn, baby, burn

So it's true—when you reread a good book, you discover more things about it that make you love the book even more. It was only last year in July when I first read Fahrenheit 451, and now, after finishing the book this lazy Sunday afternoon, I must say that the reading experience was even more fulfilling.

When I first read Fahrenheit 451, I was blown by away by the premise and its plot. Bradbury's made-up world where firemen burn books is the stuff of nightmares, especially among bibliophiles. It's a world where people aren't encouraged to feel and think, where it's enough to spend the day in one's work and then kill the remaining hours with mindless television.

This time around, I was particularly surprised that I paid more attention to Bradbury's characters. And I think that Fahrenheit 451 may be more character-centered than plot-driven. I still have a soft spot for Guy Montag, our main character. You just can't help but root for the guy. When his character transforms from being an instrument to destruction to a supporter of the printed word, you realize that all is not lost for humanity after all. It takes just one person, just one person who thinks rationally and questions the status quo, to tip the balance. Montag is the person that the dystopian world in Fahrenheit 451 is afraid the most.

Then there's Captain Beatty, Montag's boss and the novel's antagonist. He represents everything that went wrong in that speculative future. Beatty is uncompromising in his belief that it's dangerous to let people read books and pollute their minds with the thoughts of the books' writers. Beatty is learned, but he doesn't want people to learn. He quotes Shakespeare and Pope, and thus feels superior to the rest of the population who remain uneducated. He knows the world's terrible history—why it has come to be the bleak place that it is—but he fights and destroys the things and the people that can bring the old world back.

Montag's wife, Mildred, shows us what happens when we let unkind governments have their way with us. Mildred has become one-dimensional, forgetful, unaware, insensitive, and shallow. Who can blame her though. If the highlight of your day is watching TV programs, then you become nothing but someone who just takes up space. Mildred even chooses the company of the actors of a TV program, even calling them her "family," to having a conversation with Montag. She is what happens when we constantly get stimuli only from limited and controlled sources.

I wonder what I'll discover if I read Fahrenheit 451 a third time. I'm happy that I was able to go through Bradbury's detailed and sometimes poetic narrative. He really embodied the difficult craft of showing rather than telling. And I feel a bit melancholy that we've list this distinguished man of letters. If not for the book club's sci-fi read-along, I never would have reconnected with Fahrenheit 451. Now I'm looking forward to hearing other people's thoughts about it. I hope they like it as much as I did.

Still on a Levithan roll

My Levithan stash

A couple of weeks ago, I posted on Facebook how much I'm enjoying Levithan's novels and a few reasons for my being a devoted fan boy. And again, I have him to thank because I'm reading again! Woot! Good-bye, reading rut! Good-bye, endless switching between books! Good-bye, mindless downloading of TV episodes just to kill time!

So far, I've read 3: Boy Meets Boy, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, and Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List. I haven't been disappointed yet. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I won't be.

How can you not love an author who writes the most beautiful lines, who isn't into stereotypes and labels, and who comes up with the most engaging stories? Also, reading Levithan made me feel like a teenager again.