Rustled Pages

4 // All the Books

2015-09-24T10:00:00.000+01:00

I can't remember the last time I didn't have a book on the go; to put it simply, reading has become an intrinsic part of my being. I've grown up among dust-coated and inked individuals – and the flick of a page has become second nature. And yet, I don't feel as if my humble blog lingers enough on the specific books I've read across the years. And so, in order to share more of the books I've read, I've allocated each of my books a number – and, with each of these posts, I'll ponder and muse over a randomly selected array of my books, noting my thoughts on aspects of them.

BOOK 93: The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami.

“All I did was go to the library to borrow some books.”

THE STRANGE LIBRARY follows a young boy who stops off at the library to discover how taxes were collected in the Ottoman Empire. To his surprise he’s led to a special ‘reading room’ in a maze under the library, where he’s imprisoned by the sinister old librarian. His only companions are a strange sheep man and a girl who can only talk with her hands.

Visually, this book is stunning. The illustrations are nothing less than gorgeous, and hand in hand with the small snippets of text, this book makes for an astoundingly imaginative and creatively told tale. That said, I feel like it's this book's aim to eschew the normal. From the subject matter to the characters to the ending, this tale goes beyond weird. I mean, it's utterly insane. If you're not a fan of the abnormal, and don't enjoy the occasional frisson of excitement, then please don't read this book. Though only a short read, this book is bursting with colour and ideas, and would make the perfect gift for any reader who isn't afraid of surreality.

BOOK 60: How to Be a Heroine by Samantha Ellis.

“… maybe we read heroines for what we need from them at the time.”

How to Be a Heroine is a non-fiction book by Samantha Ellis. Within the book, Ellis takes a retrospective look at her life through the different literary heroines she'd had along the way. Ultimately this book explores the role heroines play in shaping our lives – as well as touching upon some of Ellis' own experiences, such as growing up in an Iraqi Jewish community.

It's been over a year since I read HOW TO BE A HEROINE, and I still can't articulate the brilliance of this book. As a lifelong reader and lover of heroines, this book just clicked with me. I felt overwhelming nostalgia when I read the passages on Jo March and Anne Shirley, and I just got everything Ellis said about Esther Greenwood and Elizabeth Bennet. Samantha Ellis talks about books and characters in a way that only a true book lover could. If this sounds at all like a book that you'd enjoy, don't hesitate to give it a go.

BOOK 180: Perfume by Patrick Süskind.

“He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.”

Perfume begins in the slums of eighteenth-century France, where Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born with one sublime gift — an absolute sense of smell. As a boy, he lives to decipher the odors of Paris, and apprentices himself to a prominent perfumer who teaches him the ancient art of mixing precious oils and herbs. Then one day he catches a hint of a scent that will drive him on an ever-more-terrifying quest to create the "ultimate perfume" — the scent of a beautiful young virgin.

Smell is not a sense I've ever fully appreciated, yet Patrick Süskind's lavish (albeit morbid) descriptions of various aromas enlightened me to its beauty. He's just a fantastic writer, and I fell in love with the prose of this novel. PERFUME is a seductive thriller, and one I loved every second of.

BOOK 70: Ariel by Sylvia Plath.

“The frost makes a flower, the dew makes a star.”

Ariel was the second book of Sylvia Plath's poetry to be published, and was originally published in 1965, two years after her death by suicide. The poems in Ariel, with their free flowing images and characteristically menacing psychic landscapes, marked a dramatic turn from Plath's earlier poems.

I read ARIEL earlier this year, and Sylvia Plath has since become one of my favourite poets. Though I found it very difficult to read at times (because of its connection to Plath's own fate), I couldn't recommend this collection highly enough. I've never experienced such raw and sincere feelings within such beautiful words, and there were so many times I had to pause in awe of Plath's talent. Each line of every poem is affecting in some way: “I am terrified by this dark thing / That sleeps in me / All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.”

Have you read any of these? What did you think of them?
See my first of these posts HERE.

"I’d Read Anything By Them"

2015-09-17T10:00:00.000+01:00

I love the writing of certain authors to such an unmeasurable degree that I'll read anything written by them. To be brief, if the following authors were to publish a new book I'd begin it instantly…

Haruki Murakami:

I fully understand that many of his books are "same-y" – though I honestly couldn't care less. I love Murakami's distinctive style, his trademark motifs and his familiar characters. In fact, there's not a book of his I haven't enjoyed. I recently finished Sputnik Sweetheart, and upon finishing I thought: is there anything by this author I wouldn't read? Right now I can say there really isn't.

Margaret Atwood:

Margaret Atwood is truly one of our greatest living novelists. She just has this wonderful capacity for crafting interesting and original plots without compromising the complexity of her characters. Every book she has written has left me a really contemplative mood, and I have complete faith that anything else she chooses to write will do just the same.

Neil Gaiman:

What I love about Neil Gaiman's work is that he explores reality through the use of the fantastical. He writes these wildly imaginative and inventive tales, and yet they always have an emotional basis that enables the reader to connect to them. Regardless of the plot, or the characters, or the setting, I always find a way to relate to Gaiman's work – and that's why I'd read anything by him.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie:

I think part of the reason I'd read anything by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is because I really respect and admire her as a person. Her short essay We Should All Be Feminists is just one of those things everybody should read. Her thoughtfulness always translates into her fiction, which is why she could write anything and I'd happily read it.

Kate ATkinson:

The Jackson Brodie Series was one of my favourite series for years; I loved the meticulous plotting and the delicate characterisation. However, it wasn't until the release of Life After Life that I realised what a fantastic storyteller Atkinson really is. She tells her stories in such a fascinating way that I can't help but want to read everything she ever decides to pen.

Michel Faber:

I'm really beginning to believe that Michel Faber is capable of writing absolutely anything. From a Dickensian epic on the life of a prostitute in Victorian London, to a tale of aliens harvesting human meat – he's an insanely versatile author. Though he said that The Book of Strange New Things is his last book, I'll definitely be seeking out anything by him that I've yet to read.

J.K. Rowling:

Like a lot of the 'Harry Potter Generation', I'm blindly loyal towards J.K. Rowling. I will read anything and everything she writes. It's just a simple fact: if it's written by JKR, I'll be reading it.

Are there any authors you love so much that you'd read anything written by them?

The Enveloping Nature of a Good Book

2015-09-12T10:00:00.000+01:00

When I think about what makes a good book, I almost always come to the same answer: I love books that truly preoccupy the mind. I love books that – regardless of whether they deal with the grittiest elements of reality, or the furthest corners of the fantastical – swallow the reader up whole.

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber, the best book I've read so far this year, did exactly that. The narrator, a literary seducer of sorts, ensnares the reader from the very beginning – "Watch your step. Keep your wits about you; you will need them." Needless to say, it’s not long before the reader's completely engulfed in Faber’s Victorian London. This book preoccupied my mind in a way I can’t quite describe; it had a captivating energy about it, the kind that enabled a peculiarly intimate relationship between myself and the characters. Ultimately, this book reminded me of the pure, unadulterated delight that comes hand in hand with escapism.

And, when I think back to many of my other favourite reads, they've all been very similar in that respect; it seems I love nothing more than to be completely enveloped in an author's world. It feels so painfully obvious to talk about Harry Potter, though I will – and for good reason too. HARRY POTTER is a series that just clicks with so many people, myself included. All it takes is for a reader to crack the spine of one the books, and they've apparated into a loveable and familiar world. For me, the series is the very definition of escapism – and I'm sure many will agree with me on that.

So, yes, I love books that are truly engulfing. A Tale For the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki is another book that completely absorbed every element of my being; I felt involved in the character's lives in an unimaginably genuine sense. It's books like Ozeki's I truly adore; the kind that captivate you so entirely that you're unable to fathom how your reality can be separate from the book's reality.

Any recommendations for books that have truly preoccupied your mind?

A Few of My Recent Reads

2015-09-06T10:00:00.000+01:00

I initially sat down to write an entirely different blog post to this one. But then I realised that I didn't feel like writing that blog post. Today, I just want to talk about books, simple as. And so, given the summer holidays have just ended, it feels fitting for me to review a couple of the books I read this summer. I've picked out three very different reads, and so, without further ado, here are my thoughts on them…

Under the Skin by Michel Faber

Under the Skin makes for a completely surreal reading experience; it's wildly original, beautifully written and utterly unforgettable. The character of Isserley is unlike any other, and her tale is unpredictable from start to finish. Admittedly, the first two thirds of the novel are incredibly slow-paced – though it picks up considerably near the end, given there's the 'big reveal'. Essentially, this is a book that will (pardon the pun) really get under your skin; it's deeply affecting, thoroughly exhilarating and the ending will haunt your mind for days afterwards. I don't want to say much else (in fear of spoilers), so I'll just say this: Under the Skin is a thrilling, lyrical, genre-defying read, and I just loved the sheer insanity of the whole thing. ★★★★

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running is not, contrary to what the titles says, a book solely about running. In fact, you don't have to be a runner to enjoy it – just, preferably, a Murakami fan. I've always found him to be an incredibly interesting person, and this memoir, if anything, has further piqued my interest in him. Though only a short read, it offers glimpses of great profundity throughout, and I was surprised by the sheer depth of some passages. Whilst I wasn't hugely invested in the passages on running, I found his discussions about the writing process fascinating, and I was stunned by his thoughtfulness and humility (especially when he admitted he doesn't see himself as a 'natural writer'). This said, the book did feel a bit disjointed – given it was written in chunks over the course of a few years – and this slightly marred the reading process. ★★★½

The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Buried Giant is a very frustrating read in many ways. Ishiguro is a wonderful writer, there’s no doubt about that. He crafts beautiful and sincere sentences, each of which is full of meaning. In fact, I found so many passages of this book to be so simple and yet so thoughtful (“But then again I wonder if what we feel in our hearts today isn't like these raindrops still falling on us from the soaked leaves above, even though the sky itself long stopped raining. I'm wondering if without our memories, there's nothing for it but for our love to fade and die.” ) However, there was one thing that stopped me from enjoying this book: the characters, or rather my inability to connect to them. A crucial part of the book is the relationship between Beatrice and Axl, an elderly couple. In short: I didn’t find either of the characters particularly engaging, and consequently felt disconnected from both their relationship and their story. Whilst The Buried Giant offered a profound exploration of memory and how we deal with the past, I ultimately had difficulty appreciating this theme when it was conveyed through two characters I fundamentally struggled to connect with. ★★½

Have you read any of these? Have you read anything recently you recommend?

I've just started back at school & I'm working hard to find a way to balance schoolwork & blogging.

August 2015 | In Unusual Words

2015-08-31T10:00:00.000+01:00

I haven't sat down to write one of these posts in a long while – though I am right now, as I feel like August deserves a couple of interesting words. Earlier this month, I switched this blog's name to Rustled Pages, and I'm glad I did; it still feels like entirely the right name for this blog. I also read a lot this month, and spent a lot of my free time writing. Here's to hoping I can keep all this up when I return to school next week (my past attempts at balancing school and blogging have been, well, fairly unsuccessful). Anyway, without further ado, August 2015 in a few unusual words:

Ostranenie:

(Russian, noun) Encouraging people to see common things as strange, wild and unfamiliar

In August, I remembered one of my favourite things to see in a book. I love authors who take seemingly normal events and, through their writing, transform them into something extraordinary. For once I'm not talking about Murakami – in fact, I'm specifically referring to Under the Skin by Michel Faber. Within this novel, Faber takes something as mundane and simple as hitchhiking and transforms it into something beyond strange.

Pluviophile:

(English, Noun) A person who loves/takes comfort from rain

I know August is a summer month, and that we should be enjoying the rare sunshine the UK offers us – but I just love rain. Perhaps I romanticise rainy days, but I do adore the clichéd image of a day spent curled up in blankets, with a book and a cup of tea at the ready, as the rain hammers against the window pane. I just really, really enjoy the rain – simple as.

Finifugal:

(LATIN ADJ.) HATING ENDINGS; OF SOMEONE WHO TRIES TO PROLONG THE FINAL MOMENTS OF A STORY

Here's a simple fact: if I like a book, I have a lot of trouble letting the story go. In July, I read (and fell in love with) THE CRIMSON PETAL AND THE WHITE BY MICHEL FABER. In August, I started THE APPLE BY MICHEL FABER, which is a series of short stories set in the same Victorian London as THE CRIMSON PETAL AND THE WHITE. Though barely 200 pages, I've been reading this book over a long period of time – because I simply can't bare to be finished with Sugar's tale.

Delectation:

(ENGLISH Noun.) Delight; enjoyment; pleasure

Earlier on this month I received my GCSE exam results (if you're not from the UK, these are just qualifications for students aged 14–16). I won't go into details about what I got, but I'm absolutely over the moon (and still a little in shock) with my results. I also, by some miracle, managed to get full marks in one of my favourite subjects. I guess, more than anything, the word 'delectation' refers to the time after results day. In the run up to the day, I felt tense and stressed and struggled to blog/read/write – but, after I got my results, I was able to simply enjoy the rest of the holidays. Ultimately, exam results don't matter – though it's a lovely feeling to have them out of the way.

How was August to you?

Blog posts written: Three Recommended Reads, 3 // All the Books, Rustled Pages ~ An Explanation of the New Name, A Trip to the Library, Recommendations | Short Story Collections

Books read this month: Under the Skin, A Streetcar Named Desire, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, The Buried Giant, Sputnik Sweetheart

Recommendations | Short Story Collections

2015-08-24T10:00:00.000+01:00

Short story collections are laced with serendipity. The turn of the page can bring an entirely different tale to the last – and very often these tales are unexpected delights. From Angela Carter to Shirley Jackson to Neil Gaiman, here are a few short story collections I highly recommend:

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter:

Angela Carter's work is always very odd and very beautiful – and her short stories are no different. Her prose is rich and velveteen, and she puts a wonderful feminist twist on traditional fairy tales. Her stories often require close reading and time for reflection, though this is an aspect of them I really enjoy; her haunting narrative lingers on your mind after every story, and I think that's what makes her a truly masterful writer of short stories. Some of my favourite stories from the collection include: The Bloody Chamber, The Erl-King and The Company of Wolves.

Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger:

J.D. Salinger's relaxed yet polished writing style, combined with his ability to craft vividly alive characters and his flair for realistic dialogue, means his writing translates really well to the short story form. Within Nine Stories there are nine different casts of varied and believable characters – and it's this fantastic characterisation that makes this short story collection worth reading. Some of my favourite stories from the collection include: A Perfect Day For Bannanafish and Just Before the War With the Eskimos.

Trigger Warning & Fragile Things & Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman:

Can you tell I'm a fan of Neil Gaiman? Because I really am. Within these three collections Gaiman's remarkable artistry seems clearer than ever. To put it simply, he just has this engaging talent for transforming the most mundane elements of reality into the fantastical. (Out of the collections, Smoke and Mirrors is, perhaps, my favourite).

After the Quake by Haruki Murakami:

After the Quake consists of six short stories 'set at the time of the catastrophic 1995 Kobe earthquake, when Japan became brutally aware of the fragility of its daily existence'. Though I prefer Murakami's longer work, his short stories are still endearing, enjoyable and (as any previous Murakami reader would expect) somewhat disturbing. My favourite story from this collection is Super-frog Saves Tokyo (it's the most Murakami-ish, if you know what I mean).

That Glimpse of Truth (selected by David Miller):

This collection does not feature the work of one author, but it instead boasts '100 of the finest short stories ever written'. I've included this collection for one reason: it made me fall in love with the short story form. As you dip into these 100 tales, you're exposed to such a variety of themes, writing styles and characters – and when that happens, it's inevitable you fall in love with short stories. Like I mentioned before, there's a wonderful serendipidous edge to short story collections; needless to say, this particular collection brings unexpected delight with every new tale.

Not the End of the World by Kate Atkinson:

I went through a phase of loving anything and everything written by Kate Atkinson. Her slick writing style and careful characterisation had me bewitched for years (I'll likely be under her enchantment once again when she releases another book). Not the End of the World showcases the quirkier side of Atkinson's writing as it delves into magical realism and experiments with the short story form. One thing I really love about this collection is that the stories interlink in subtle ways – which is a delight for the reader. (It also helps that the stories regularly reference Buffy the Vampire Slayer, my obsession).

The Lottery & Other Stories by Shirley Jackson:

When I read the title story of this collection I was left numb with fear – my throat became dry and my fingers fumbled to turn to the next tale. It was that good. Shirley Jackson's other short stories are also insanely well-written, and this collection is brimming with suspenseful writing and ambiguous endings. My two favourite stories in this collection are The Lottery and Flower Garden.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver:

Raymond Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk About Love is strangely transfixing. The stories in this collection, though very little happens within each one, never fail to maintain the reader's attention. Carver explores the human condition throughout each story, and there's something compulsively readable about the lives of Carver's characters. Despite the situations and relationships in each story seeming gritty in their realism, the experience of reading them feels more like a fantastical trance.

Do you have any recommendations for short story writers or short story collections? I'd love to hear them.

A Trip to the Library

2015-08-17T10:00:00.000+01:00

“I ransack public libraries, and find them full of sunken treasure.”

Libraries are wonderful places, and I can't help but feel incredibly grateful for the fact I live very close to one. Whenever I'm in a particularly lethargic mood, I'll almost always take a trip to my local library in the hope I'll come home with a heavy stack of books that can preoccupy my mind.

When I last went to the library I picked up a couple of books by Murakami; I picked up Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman as I've been meaning to read more of his short stories for a long time, as well as What I Talk About When I Talk About Running as I'm deeply interested in learning more about Murakami and his thought process. Murakami's work is so acutely profound, yet reads effortlessly, and I'm slowly making my way through everything he has written.

Following on from this, I also picked up What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver – which I've already read and highly recommend. I picked this up due to the heavy influence Carver has had on Murakami's writing, as well as Carver's artistry when it comes to the short story form.

Another book I grabbed was Under the Skin because I adored The Crimson Petal and the White (also by Michel Faber). Again, I've already read this one. This book honestly made for the weirdest reading experience I've ever had… I did love the sheer insanity of the whole thing though.

The last two books I borrowed were To Rise Again at a Decent Hour by Joshua Ferris and The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro. I've been meaning to read the former ever since I went to the Man Booker reading last year and I heard Joshua Ferris read the opening of this novel. In terms of the latter, I'm a huge Kazuo Ishiguro fan – I just love his writing. Despite the negative reviews this book has received (mostly due to critics not taking fantasy seriously – but that's another story), I'm still looking forward to this.

Have you read any of these? As always, any other recommendations are welcome.

Rustled Pages ~ An Explanation Of the New Name

2015-08-15T21:47:00.000+01:00

I've always been one of those people who's fond of a really good name. Maybe good name is not quite what I mean – rather, the right name. Whenever I'm writing, I'll spend hours researching etymology in order to find my characters the perfect name – and, even then, I'm prone to changing their name several times afterwards. Essentially: I like a name that just clicks.

I guess this is why I've changed this blog's name. I came up with the previous name when I was 13 years old, back when the tone and content of this blog were considerably different. And so I've decided to rename this corner of the internet Rustled Pages – and, at this moment, this seems entirely the right name. I can't quite explain why I love this new name, but I'll endeavour to do so. I guess, in all simplicity, this is a blog written purely because of a reader's love for books. And, for me, the rustling of a book's pages is a sound intrinsically associated with all the years I've spent devoted to reading.

Apologies for the brevity of this post, I have a handful of (thankfully more interesting) posts coming across the next few weeks!

3 // All the Books

2015-08-07T10:00:00.000+01:00

BOOK 26: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”

Rebecca follows a lady’s companion who finds herself wrapped up in the life of Max de Winter, a handsome widower. After his sudden proposal, she is whisked away to live with him at his estate, the ominous and brooding Manderley. Upon her arrival she’s inexorably drawn into the life of the first Mrs. de Winter, the beautiful Rebecca, dead but never forgotten (least of all by the sinister housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers).

The first line of this novel is iconic – nobody can deny that. Every time I read the first line, I find myself inexplicably compelled to reread Daphne du Maurier's Gothic masterpiece – Manderley's call is simply irresistible. Within REBECCA, Daphne du Maurier brings together romance, mystery and the Gothic to create a sinister tale of secrets and betrayal. Perhaps, years after reading this, you won't remember the nameless protagonist, or her husband, but you'll certainly remember the sinistrous image of Manderley – and what an image it is.

BOOK 85: Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen.

“Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?”

Girl, Interrupted follows the time 18-year-old Susanna Kaysen spent at the McLean Hospital – a psychiatric hospital renowned for its famous clientele, such as Sylvia Plath. Her memoir offers vivid portraits of her fellow patients, and challenges our perception of sanity and insanity, mental illness and recovery.

Girl, iNTERRUpted is a fascinating and stirring read – though somewhat difficult to love. After all, it's not a book you can say you 'enjoyed' reading. Despite the choppy and brief style, it offers many glimpses of great profundity & I can't imagine Susanna Kaysen's story being told in any other way. Ultimately, Kaysen's words make you think – and that's the best thing a book can make you do.

BOOK 39: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.

“Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.”

Cloud Atlas jumps between centuries and space, as character’s lives intertwine and their fates interconnect. A reluctant voyager crosses the Pacific in 1850. A disinherited composer gatecrashes in between-wars Belgium. A vanity publisher flees gangland creditors. Others are a journalist in Governor Reagan’s California, and genetically-modified dinery server on death-row. Finally, a young Pacific Islander witnesses the nightfall of science and civilization.

Cloud Atlas is insanely well written. As I wrote in my review: 'Both compelling and thought-provoking, and complete with a vivid, cinematic approach, Cloud Atlas is shamelessly captivating.' Mitchell's prose is magnificent, and the structure is flawless. Despite a somewhat rocky beginning, I truly recommend this book (especially for a dreary rainy day).

BOOK 103: The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman.

“Oh, monsters are scared," said Lettie. "That's why they're monsters.”

The Ocean At the End of the Lane is, more than anything, about the darkness hidden within adolescence. As a middle-aged man returns to his childhood home in order to attend a funeral, he finds himself drawn to the farm at the end of the road. It was here he first met Lettie Hempstock, her mother and her grandmother; Lettie claimed the pond was an ocean, and, when he returns to this pond, the strange and haunting past comes flooding back.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane is a treat, simple as. It is, perhaps, my favourite book by Neil Gaiman. This said, I've sat here for a few minutes stumped as to how best to accurately describe this novel. So, instead, I'll share a quotation from it (in the hope you may find yourself smiling and nodding): “Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.”

Have you read any of these? What did you think of them?
See my first of these posts HERE.

Three Recommended Reads

2015-08-01T10:00:00.000+01:00

Across the past month I've read some wonderful books that completely ensnared me. So, naturally, I thought I'd share some of the absolute best out of these books. Ranging from the labyrinthine streets of Victorian London to a great Gothic novel about a wholly unusual family to the mysteries of Tokyo at night – here are three books I highly recommend.

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber

When I think of The Crimson Petal and the White, I'm still unable to fathom how the lives of Sugar and those around her are fictitious. Both Michel Faber's characters and his Victorian London are so vivid, intricate, colourful and alive that, even in retrospect, it seems utterly incomprehensible for such pulsing life to be born from something as monochromatic as black ink on a page. If such an impressive feat is not the mark of a fantastic book, I honestly cannot tell you what is. The Crimson Petal and the White, flawed only slightly by its occasional tendency to meander off course, is a wonder. Faber's compulsively readable Dickensian epic offers the reader a tour through the Victorian London the real Victorian writers shied away from showing. So, to Michel Faber, I say thank you. Thank you for taking me to the real Victorian London. Thank you for introducing me to Sugar and the cast of indelibly wonderful characters her life entails. And, most of all, thank you for writing what one can fondly describe as a really, really good book.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

We Have Always Lived in the Castle is quietly unsettling, bleakly written, brimming with pervasive unease, suffocatingly tense – and oh how I loved it! Shirley Jackson is a masterful storyteller, simple as. From the characters to the chilling climax, every aspect of this novel is decidedly creepy. It doesn't involve monsters or anything of the sort, but something far more disturbing. In fact, Jackson explores themes of insanity and the unhinged human mind. I won't say anything else (because this isn't a book you want to know too much about before beginning), but I'll share the opening – and what an opening it is!“My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all, I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in our family is dead.”

After Dark by Haruki Murakami

“It’s true, though: time moves in its own special way in the middle of the night.” When the reader begins this book they unknowingly enter a different realm; they cross the subtle line between reality and fantasy, and enter a surreal, dreamlike version of Tokyo – a Tokyo that's draped in darkness. After Dark, unlike many of Murakami's other books, does not have intricate and frustratingly complex characters. After Dark, unlike many of Murakami's other books, is not openly strange or fantastical. The strength of After Dark lies in its subtlety; its subtle character development, shown through the touching relationship between two siblings, and its subtle atmosphere, experienced through the haunting and bewitching narrative. In short, this book is exquisite in its execution. I have little else to say other than this: After Dark is best read at midnight, when your mind is most vulnerable to the allure of nighttime Tokyo and the wonders that lie within.

Have you read any of these? Have you read anything recently you recommend?

I'm still considering setting up a second blog, so more on that soon!

Books to Be Read and Loved

2015-07-30T11:46:00.000+01:00

“A book is a door, you know. Always and forever. A book is a door into another place and another heart and another world.” – Catherynne M. Valente. Sometimes I think that, perhaps, there is no greater feeling than that which comes with several good books and the knowledge of many long, empty days stretching ahead. For what is better than the promise of several worlds, and time to savour and enjoy each one of them? Here are a few books I hope to read soon:

Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger
My love for The Catcher in the Rye is extensive, and I'm also a huge fan of Franny and Zooey (though it's definitely due a reread, given I read it such a long time ago). So, naturally, I've been eyeing J.D. Salinger's short stories for a while. There's something about his relaxed, often colloquial, style that makes his work so readable – oh, and there's always the benefit of fantastically alive characters. Needless to see, I'm intrigued to see how his style translates to short story form.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
Sometimes certain books just seem to follow you around. They'll catch your eye when you're in a bookshop (and maybe you'll pick it up to buy, and then suddenly decide against it), or it'll be recommended to you by several friends within the same week. Whatever the case, there are some books that always seem to be there, begging you to read them. At long last, I'll be reading We Have Always Lived in the Castle, and I honestly can't wait.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Other Stories and Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Like many, the only F. Scott Fitzgerald book I've read is The Great Gatsby. And, like many, I'm not sure why exactly this is. I love the style of F. Scott Fitzgerald's work, and his prose is superb – so I'm at loss for an explanation of why I haven't read more of his work.

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami

I've mentioned my love for Murakami's work too often on this blog, so, for fear of becoming monotonous, I'll keep this short. Murakami's work is eccentric and bizarre, though always maintains an odd sense of realism and believability; Dance Dance Dance, in particular, sounds like a Murakami novel that embraces everything I love about his work in the first place.

The Moving Toyshop by Edmund Crispin

Described as "one of the undiscovered treasures of British crime fiction", the synopsis of this book was enough to win me over: Richard Cadogan, poet and would-be bon vivant, arrives for what he thinks will be a relaxing holiday in the city of dreaming spires. Late one night, however, he discovers the dead body of an elderly woman lying in a toyshop and is coshed on the head. When he comes to, he finds that the toyshop has disappeared and been replaced with a grocery store.

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber

The size of this novel, though daunting, is greatly intriguing; at 800+ pages, and with the promise of empty summer days ahead, I can't wait for my mind to be enveloped by Michel Faber's world. The first few lines are simply captivating: "Watch your step, Keep your wits about you; you will need them. This city I am bringing you to is vast and intricate, and you have not been here before."

Have you read any of these? What books do you plan to read soon?

A Love For Epigraphs

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An epigraph is 'a short quotation or saying at the beginning of a book or chapter, intended to suggest its theme'. Epigraphs are fleeting and flowery things, though draped – nevertheless – with heavy meaning. After all, they immerse the reader in the author's world before the author's words have even begun. And I'll admit that I'm susceptible to the allure of a good epigraph, for anything that encapsulates hundreds of pages (in only the inked strokes and absences of a few words) is enticing indeed. So, here are a few of my favourite epigraphs I've picked out:

Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

"What if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more'… Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine." – Nietzche

The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

"And you may ask yourself,

Well, how did I get here? …

And you may tell yourself,

This is not my beautiful house.

And you may tell yourself,

This is not my beautiful wife." – Talking Heads

THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE BY NEIL GAIMAN
"I remember my own childhood vividly… I knew terrible things. But I knew I mustn't let adults know I knew. It would scare them." – Maurice Sendak

How to be Both by Ali Smith

"Although the living is subject to the ruin of time, the process of decay is at the same time a process of crystallisation, that in the depth of the sea, into which sinks and is dissolved what once was alive, some things 'suffer a sea-change' and survive in new crystallised forms and shapes that remain immune to the elements, as though they waited only for the pearl diver who one day will come down to them and bring them up in the world of the living." – Hannah Arendt

"Just like a character in a novel, he disappeared suddenly, without leaving the slightest trace behind." – Giorgio Bassani / Jamie McKendrick

FAHRENHEIT 451 BY RAY BRADBURY

"If they give you ruled paper, write the other way." – Juan Ramón Jiménez

This quotation for Life After Life is so lyrically and thematically apt in unlocking the very heart of Atkinson's tale – it brings forwards innumerable ideas about loneliness and rebirth. And I've always loved this epigraph from The Marriage Plot due to its delicate uncertainty. It just seems so fitting for the novel and, in particular, the mindset of its characters. The Ocean at the End of the Lane is a tale of naivety, fragility and the terrors of childhood – so, needless to say, this epigraph is wonderful in expressing the genuine and haunting side of being a child. In terms of How to Be Both, this novel has several epigraphs, though these two are my favourites. They're fantastically ambiguous and pave the way for what will be an incredibly thoughtful novel.

Though, in terms of the epigraph for Fahrenheit 451, I don't know what to say about it, other than it just feels right. For me, it's the perfect epigraph.

Have you ever paid particular attention to epigraphs?

I said this last post, but I'll reiterate; I'm pretty confident i'll be setting up a second blog sometime in the near future. This won't affect this blog, but I thought it was worth noting. :)

On Words, Japan & Book Inspired Wanderlust

2015-07-05T19:55:00.000+01:00

Whilst it's easy to romanticise the power of words, it's equally as easy to underestimate the effect the printed word can have on a person's mind. Across the past few months, I've experienced an intense desire to travel – more specifically, to visit to Japan. And why? Due to words.

I guess this begins with Murakami; it's his Japan I initially fell in love with. In After Dark, I found myself bewitched by the hypnotic energy of Tokyo at night ("Midnight is approaching, and while the peak activity has passed, the basal metabolism that maintains life continues undiminished, producing the basso continuo of the city's moan, a monotonous sound that neither rises nor falls but is pregnant with foreboding.") Whilst Norwegian Wood and Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage introduced me to a different side of Japan; a Japan of many shades, full of so many feelings, thoughts and interests. And then 1Q84 and Kafka on the Shore intrigued me to no end; they brought about this alluring idea of two separate versions of Japan – the everyday, albeit beautified, Japan and a surrealist, somewhat different Japan – that coexist alongside one another.

Perhaps Murakami has given me an idealistic vision of Japan; though I can't deny his words have also shown me the darker side of Japan: a confused Japan, a realistic Japan, a Japan that evokes such curiosity within me.

Needless to say, it wasn't long before I found myself wanting to read more about the country; I reached for A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki (highly, highly recommended) and Strange Weather in Tokyo by Hiromi Kawakami (currently reading). Kawakami depicts Japan tenderly, and, with every turn of the page, I can't help but feel a strange sense of nostalgia for her Japan – despite the fact I've never been to the country.

Last week I picked up Granta 127: Japan, which consists of writers, artists, residents and visitors offering readers their Japans. Their short stories, articles and artwork have shown this country in so many different lights that my curiosity has only heightened; I can't help but wonder what, if I visit, the Japan I see will be like.

On the back of the Granta issue it says: "Everyone knows this country and no one knows it." Despite my recent obsession with reading about Japan, I'm aware that I know very little about the country. Though I've fallen in love with the inked Japan – author by author, book by book, page by page – I've yet to experience Japan for myself. So, for a now, I can only hope that one day I'll be able to fall in love with the country through my own thoughts and feelings.

Is there a particular country you love to read about?

Just as a general update, I'm pretty confident i'll be setting up a second blog sometime in the near future. This won't affect this blog, but I thought it was worth noting. :)

Lost Months & Lost Words

2015-06-25T08:00:00.000+01:00

I finished my exams just under a week ago. I had planned to return to blogging immediately, but then I wound up in a strange post-exam/pre-summer languor. So I've spent the last few days in a particularly lethargic mood – and it is not until now, six days later, I've looked at this blog. In fact, I've been vaguely unproductive, though – for once – this doesn't seem to be bothering me. I'd say I've been experiencing a wonderful case of rasasvada (a fantastic word I came across the other day, meaning "the taste of bliss in the absence of all thoughts").

I guess this is a waffly explanation for my recent absence. Essentially, I've had exams. Though I'm back now, and I can't wait to reclaim the words that the past few months have stolen away.

I. Books I've read & plan to read

I had very little time to read throughout exams, though I did dip in and out of Ariel by Sylvia Plath. Her poetry collection is rich and true spoken – I can't remember the last time I've experienced such beauty within so few pages. Since the end of exams, I've read Heroes and Villains by Angela Carter (endearingly bizarre and grotesque), and Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman (as wonderful as you could expect from Gaiman, naturally).

Over the next ten blissful summer weeks, I have several stacks of books to get through. (It's worth noting that, the moment my final exam ended, I fled to the library and came home with a decent pile of novels). Perhaps the novel I'm most excited to read is The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood.

2. Words to be scrawled

I have many rough plans for what I'll be writing across the summer. However I thought it would be more apt to share some words my fingers have been itching to use (as is the way on this blog): orphic, meaning mysterious and entrancing; anacampserote, something that can bring back lost love; and nefelibata, which refers to someone who lives in the clouds of their own imagination.

3. This blog

I'll be doing my best to blog as much as I can – and, given it's the summer, I'll be posting more than ever. This said, I have been thinking of setting up a second blog to run alongside this one. The potential new blog would consist of my own writing, as well as small fragments of artwork, and other muses… I'm not entirely sure of this yet, though, so Feed Me Books Now will remain my main preoccupation!

So, essentially, I'm back. :)
Please excuse the brevity and confusion of this post – I haven't blogged in so long, it's as if I've forgotten how this all works. But I'll slowly remember the way, page by page, and word by word.

2 // All the Books

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BOOK 221: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

“Racism should never have happened and so you don't get a cookie for reducing it.”

Americanah is a compelling tale of love, race and identity. Ifemelu and Obinze fell in love when they were young, but are separated when they leave the military-ruled Nigeria to lead different lives; Ifemelu continues her studies in America, but finds herself grappling with what it means to be black, whilst Obinze plunges into a dangerous life in London. Fifteen years later, the two are reunited.

Oh, how I love Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I read AMERICANAH last October, and my love for it hasn't faded at all. Whilst the novel's essentially a romance, it also offers so much more; AMERICANAH explores personal, national and racial identity against the backdrop of our globalised world. "I came from a country where race was not an issue, I did not think of myself as black and I only became black when I came to America."

BOOK 143: THe Girl With Glass Feet by Ali Shaw.

“It didn’t take tragedy or war to derail a man. It took only a memory.”

The Girl With Glass Feet is set on the strange and enigmatic archipelago of St. Hauda's Land, where many unusual things happen. For instance, a young woman named Ida Maclaird is slowly turning into glass. And, as the glass transformation begins, a local man's love is put to the test.

The Girl With Glass Feet is an utterly bizarre book. When you're reading it, the descriptions of everything from the island's winged creatures to its snow-glazed woods burn vividly in your mind. Yet, the moment you close the covers, everything is quickly forgotten. Although, perhaps that is the magic? Whatever the case, The Girl With Glass Feet is an interesting read – one which will suit fans of The Night Circus or The Snow Child nicely.

BOOK 37: To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.

“Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigues, I have had my vision.”

To the Lighthouse offers an intricate depiction of marriage, childhood and parenthood, all of which is explored within one family living in a summer house off the rocky coast of Scotland. And Virginia Woolf perfectly encapsulates the transience of life within these 200 pages.

To the Lighthouse is by no means my favourite novel by Virginia Woolf. However, when I picked it up sometime last year, I found unmeasurable satisfaction within this tale. And the prose? To die for. “For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.”

BOOK 57: The Girl With All the gifts by M. R. Carey.

“In an age of rust, she comes up stainless steel”

The Girl With All the Gifts is about a girl named Melanie. Melanie is a very special girl. Everyday she is collected from class at gunpoint and strapped into a wheelchair. She jokes that she won't bite, but they don't laugh. THE GIRL WITH ALL THE GIFTS gives a new life to the zombie novel. Gone are the clichés, the emotionless characters, the predictable plot… instead, we have something entirely new.

At the time of the book's release, my obsession with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all things Whedon had just began. So, when I saw Whedon quoted on the cover… well, I knew I had to read this. And, whilst THE GIRL WITH ALL THE GIFTS wasn't what I expected it to be, it was still an exciting read.

Have you read any of these? What did you think of them?
See my first of these posts HERE.

Book Haul | April 2015

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“A library is never complete. That’s the joy of it. We are always seeking one more book to add to our collection.” – Catherynne M. Valente.

The first book I picked up is A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab – a fantasy novel about parallel versions of London, revolving around a Traveller who can jump between them. “And so Kell—inspired by the lost city known to all as Black London—had given each remaining capital a colour. Grey for the magic-less city. Red, for the healthy empire. White, for the starving world.” I'm a huge fantasy fan, and there's nothing I love more than to lose myself in reverie. So, naturally, this book seemed like a must.

Picnic At Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay is a 1967 novel about a group of female students who disappear after a picnic. Going from the first few pages, I can tell this is going to be a short, but eerie and suspenseful, read.

The third book I picked up is one that I still don't entirely know the plot of. Essentially, the quote on the cover of this novel – “Curious Incident meets The Man Who Fell to Earth” (Joanne Harris) – is why I picked up The Humans by Matt Haig. From what I've gathered, this book is best approached when you don't know too much about it, and just leave yourself susceptible to the shock of unnamed territory and undefined mysteries.

I also picked up The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August by Claire North – a book which has received ridiculously high praise. The novel revolves around Harry August, a man who, upon death, returns to his childhood with recollections of all his past lives – nothing ever changes, until his eleventh life. I was initially quite skeptical of this book (after all, it isn't exactly an original concept) but, after reading reviews that refer to it as "the best book you'll read this year", I'm definitely intrigued.

Haruki Murakami has inspired my recent obsession with Japanese literature. And, whilst I don't expect to find any authors as bizarre as Murakami, I am looking forward to further exploring elements of Japanese culture. Strange Weather In Tokyo by Hiromi kAWAKAMI sounds like a beautifully-written novel, as well as tender examination of loneliness; I can't wait to read it.

The Girl On the Train by Paula Hawkins has been hailed a masterpiece. And it sounds exactly like the kind of book I would enjoy. After hearing nonstop raving about its artful and suspenseful storytelling, and twisted characters, I have no idea why I've only just picked it up.

Have you read any of these books? Do you plan to? I'd love to know!

March 2015 | In Wonderfully Peculiar Words

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Oh, March, will I ever like you? It seems the only months I'll every truly enjoy are those that end with '-uary' or '-ber'. And, despite the fact I seem to judge months and weekdays on a linguistic basis (e.g. I prefer Thursdays to Sundays for the simple fact 'Thursday' sounds a lot better), I can honestly say I dislike March for both its content and how it sounds. The reason for this March-related hatred being the fact it largely revolved around schoolwork, mock exams and revision. (Which, in my opinion, is a pretty sound reason for disliking a month).

Petrichor:

tHE SCENT OF RAIN ON DRY EARTH.

Earlier this month I read a novel entitled PERFUME: THE STORY OF A MURDERER, which, unsurprisingly, explores smell. Smell is not a sense I've ever fully appreciated, yet Patrick Süskind's lavish (albeit morbid) descriptions of various aromas enlightened me to its beauty. And so, as an ode to all the fleeting and fickle scents of this world, here's my favourite: the scent of rain on dry earth.

Paracosm:

a detailed imaginary world created by a child that includes human, animal, or alien creations.

When I discovered this word, I couldn't help but offer a wistful smile. I was a child of many paracosms – too many to count, let alone remember. And now, as I spend each day encircled by the harsh reality of revision, I can't help but look upon these years I spent in these paracosms, and gleefully await their return. “Everybody has a secret world inside of them. I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody — no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. Inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds… Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe.” – Neil Gaiman

Nyctophilia:

Love of darkness or night; findin relaxation or comfort in darkness.

Perhaps when you were younger, your parents would look upon you with a faint shadow of amusement (and a light-hearted shake of the head), and refer to you as a "night owl" or "early bird". (I, myself, was both – but that's another story). Nowadays I still channel the "night owl" within; for me, there's no better time to write or read, than when moonlight offers its cold embrace.

Adoxography:

Beautiful writing on a subject of little or no importance.

As a reader, I've always felt compelled by intricate plot lines and detailed character development, in the same way I've always worshipped the profound meanings of words. That said, I realised this month that I have a real love for flowery and wonderfully pointless prose. I just adore it.

Offing:

The deep, distant stretch of ocean visible from land; the foreseeable future.

'Offing' wasn't necessarily a word I planned to include in this post – after all, it doesn't directly relate to March, but rather the months that lie ahead. And yet, it's such a fantastically introspective word, I couldn't help but want it to be included. After all, when I look out towards the deep, distant stretch of ocean, what is it I see? (Admittedly, a load of exams – but, eh, let's ignore that for a now).

How was March to you?

Blog posts written: REVIEW: All My Friends Are Superheroes, On Reading For Pleasure, 1 // All the Books
Books read this month: The Five People You Meet In Heaven, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His years of Pilgrimage, The Name of the Rose, The Rehearsal

1 // All the Books

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Book 49: The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

“She'd become an English major for the purest and dullest of reasons: because she loved to read.”

The Marriage Plot is about Madeleine Hanna, a dutiful English Major who is writing her senior thesis on Jane Austen and George Eliot, purveyors of the marriage plot that lies at the heart of the greatest English novels. As Madeleine studies the age-old motivations of the human heart, her own life intervenes in the form of two very different romances.

I picked this book up last year, after finishing The Virgin Suicides (by the same author). It's an odd book and, although regularly pretentious and waffly, it offers occasional bouts of brilliance. The opening, for instance, is one of the best I've ever read. The novel as a whole is incredibly dense, and arguably too long, but mostly enjoyable. After all, I can't help but agree with the cover quote: "[The Marriage Plot] reminds us with uncommon understanding what it is to be young and idealistic, in pursuit of true love, and in love with books and ideas."

BOOK 156: The Well of Ascension by bRANDON sANDERSON

"I lost track of the time…" "For two hours?" "There were books involved."

THE Well of Ascension is the second book in the Mistborn series; a trilogy set in a world where the "bad side" have already won, and evil prevails. THE WELL OF ASCENSION follows Vin, a Mistborn, who uses Allomancy – the power of the metals – to rebuild their world.

Oh, MISTBORN, how I love you. Ever since a young age, I've had a penchant for dedicating hours and hours towards fantasy – wondrous, loveable fantasy. This series fills me with an odd sense of nostalgia – although I read it only last year, and it's classified as an 'adult' fantasy series, the book has a comforting air about it. It reminds me of the hours I spent as a child, wholly and truly enamoured by the fantastical. I remember finishing the first book in this series, THE Final Empire, whilst I was in Cornwall, and seeking every bookshop in vain, as I searched for the sequel; THE WELL OF ASCENSION, quite simply, is fantasy doing what fantasy does best.

BOOK 19: A ROOM WITH A VIEW BY E.M. FORSTER

“It is so difficult – at least, I find it difficult – to understand people who speak the truth.”

A Room With a View is the story of a young middle-class girl, Lucy Honeychurch. While on holiday in Italy, Lucy meets and is wooed by two gentlemen: George Emerson and Cecil Vyse. And thus begins a tale of human struggles such as the choice between social acceptance or true happiness.

Upon finishing A ROOM WITH A VIEW for the first time, I wrote: “This had a profound effect on me. I couldn't tell you how or why, but it just did.” And I still don't know why I love it so; I just know that, ever since I came across my copy, in a quaint Cornish bookshop, it's one for my favourites shelf. Perhaps my adoration for Lucy Honeychurch has spurred on my love for Forster's novel, or maybe I just loved the pure and sincere exploration of human emotion. Whatever the case, A ROOM WITH A VIEW doesn't deserve to be dismissed as "bland" or "dated"; A ROOM WITH A VIEW deserves to be read and reread, loved and always loved – it's really that simple.

BOOK 202: Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

“Ursula craved solitude but she hated loneliness”

On a cold and snowy night in 1910, Ursula Todd is born – only to die before she can draw her first breath. Throughout her life, Ursula dies repeatedly, in a number of ways, only to be reborn. Clearly history has plans for hers – for, in Ursula, rests nothing less than the fate of civilisation.

My love for Kate Atkinson has been a long and constant one – mostly due to her much-adored Jackson Brodie series. When I heard of this book's release, I was immediately intrigued. Fortunately, lIFE aFTER lIFE, although not quite as brilliant as the previously mentioned series, does not disappoint. This book offers an audacious twist on history, and one can't help but love its wild originality.

BOOK 232: American Gods by Neil Gaiman

“Every hour wounds. The last one kills.”

Days before his release from prison, Shadow's wife, Laura, dies in a mysterious car crash. Numbly, he makes his way back home, only to encounter the enigmatic Mr Wednesday, who claims to be a refugee from a distant war, a former god and the king of America. Together they embark on a profoundly strange journey across the heart of the USA, whilst all around them a storm of preternatural and epic proportions threatens to break.

I received this book for my birthday a year or two back, and read it almost immediately; inevitably, I fell in love with its blissful originality and dangerously unsettling premise. American Gods is what the best kind of fantasy is: the kind that tricks you into believing you've escaped reality when you're really just revisiting a world you know all too well. If you love profound, yet thick, fantasy novels by storytellers who know their craft: read this. If you dislike long books, steer clear.

Have you read any of these? What did you think of them?
N.B. I've seen other bloggers do similar things to this, but I can't remember for the life of me what these posts were called, so I'm going with my own title: "All the Books". I hope you enjoy them!

On Reading For Pleasure

2015-03-10T10:00:00.000+00:00

I used to think there was more to reading than just pleasure. And, of course there is; you crawl into the concealed crevices of the human mind; you voyage through time; you tiptoe from continent to continent; you experience the unknown; you come to realisations (some good, some bad); you think. And that's only the beginning of things – really.

And yet, I used to think these things were more important than the enjoyment of a book. I used to think, in order for a book to be one of my favourites, it had to make my mind dive through a myriad of emotions and unconsidered thoughts – not that it could simply make me smile. Inevitably, I'd overcomplicated and compromised the pleasure of reading.

And yet, the other day, the star-shaped cogs of sense started ticking again, and I remembered the importance of simply enjoying a book. Of course I love it when a book enables me to do all of the above, but all of that is futile if the simple turn of a page can't bring me pure enjoyment. Besides, it is when I read for pleasure I ultimately discover the most.

“With my eyes closed, I would touch a familiar book and draw its fragrance deep inside me. This was enough to make me happy.” – Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

“I ate them like salad, books were my sandwich for lunch, my tiffin and dinner and midnight munch. I tore out the pages, ate them with salt, doused them with relish, gnawed on the bindings, turned the chapters with my tongue! Books by the dozen, the score and the billion. I carried so many home I was hunchbacked for years. Philosophy, art history, politics, social science, the poem, the essay, the grandiose play, you name 'em, I ate 'em.” – Ray Bradbury, Farenheit 451

I now believe reading for pleasure is the most valuable reason to read. It's the purest and least complicated reason; it leaves a smile flickering across your lips, and it leaves your fingers itching for the next adventure. And, more than anything, it makes you fall in love with reading, yet again.

Where do you stand on reading for pleasure?

Books photographed above: The Bell Jar, Never Let Me Go, The Book Thief

REVIEW: All My Friends Are Superheroes

2015-03-04T10:00:00.000+00:00

I fell a little in love with this novella – page by page, pathetic superhero by pathetic superhero. All My Friends Are Superheroes is a whimsical and unexpectedly charming ode to love and life, but also a heartfelt exploration of the human condition. It's simply extraordinary.

Author: Andrew Kaufman | Publisher: Telegram | Pages: 106 | Source: Library |
Goodreads | Amazon | Waterstones | Book Depository |

All Tom's friends really are superheroes.

There's the Ear, the Spooner, the Impossible Man. Tom even married a superhero, the Perfectionist. But at their wedding, the Perfectionist was hypnotized (by ex-boyfriend Hypno, of course) to believe that Tom is invisible. Nothing he does can make her see him. Six months later, she's sure that Tom has abandoned her.

So she's moving to Vancouver. She'll use her superpower to make Vancouver perfect and leave all the heartbreak in Toronto. With no idea Tom's beside her, she boards an airplane in Toronto. Tom has until the wheels touch the ground in Vancouver to convince her he's visible, or he loses her forever.

MY THOUGHTS: "There are 249 superheroes in the city of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. None of them have secret identities. Very few wear costumes." Yet, despite the abundance of superheroes residing in Kaufman's alternate Toronto, our tale naturally revolves around an ordinary and non-super being. His name's Tom and he's extraordinary in his ordinariness.

Essentially, the novel revolves around Tom's flight to Vancouver with his superhero wife (to whom he's currently invisible), and it follows his desperate attempts to persuade her he's visible. As the novella unfolds, flashbacks explain how it came to this situation, and the relationship between Tom and his wife evolves into a wonderfully affecting tale.

The touching vignettes of Tom's life, focussing largely on his tragic relationship with a superhero, are wonderfully weird, and full of idiosyncrasies. For example, one scene revolves around the process of 'curing a broken heart' being an actual anatomical procedure, whilst another involves the 'anxiety monster'. Every aspect of the novella, although briefly touched upon, is just fantastic.

To touch upon the superheroes themselves, they are far from your traditional spandex-wearing, muscular men – but, instead, they are apparently normal human beings who have one unique quality that defines them. Throughout the tale, we meet a mixture of these (hilariously pathetic) beings; in fact, a couple of chapters are solely dedicated to introducing and defining the bunch. Take these examples…

THE BATTERY

All her through youth, the Battery had two things: an overpowering father and an over-rebellious mind. In combination, these forces gave her the ability to store great amounts of emotional energy and release it in one blinding bolt. But beware: the Battery's allegiances aren't to good or evil, but simply against whatever stands in her way. Friend, foe or innocent bystander – the Battery's emotional energy bursts are unpredictable and she will strike at will.

MR OPPORTUNITY

He knocks on doors and stands there. You'd be surprised how few doors get answered.

COPYCAT

Copycat has the ability to mimic anybody's personal style. Which wouldn't be so bad, perhaps even a compliment, if she wasn't able to perfect her subject's style to the point where they start looking like less successful versions of themselves.

In short, ALL MY FRIENDS ARE SUPERHEROES is a deliciously relatable, yet fantastically cliché-free, commentary on the trials and tribulations of relationships. This said, at only 106 pages, one can't help but wish for more. After all, Kaufman has delivered a loveable and near-perfect tale – the kind that will remain with the reader, due to its offbeat humour and heartwarming nature.

Favourite Quotation:

"There is only one amount of money - just not enough."
"There are two ways to get rid of an anxiety monster, my friend-you either have a bath or a nap."

in One Word?

Why?

This eccentric and quirky read is whimsical beyond belief. In an attempt to sum it up to my friend, I described it as 'a merge of Scott Pilgrim and Wes Anderson films… in a book' – and I think that's an apt description of how fantastical it is.

February 2015 | In Delightfully Odd Words

2015-02-27T10:00:00.000+00:00

I guess if there's anything I unearthed this month, it's that I never cut February enough slack. It always seems a bit of a 'filler' month as such – but sometimes a filler month is all you need. And, not only did I read some pretty great books this month (my two favourites were All My Friends Are Superheroes and Kafka on the Shore), but I also wrote some blog posts I'm surprisingly proud of.

But, instead of me rambling on (because that seems to be an all-too-familiar drag), I thought I'd describe the month in a couple of wonderful – yet annoyingly underused – words. Enjoy!

Librocubicularist:

A person who reads in bed.

Despite usually being someone who reads anywhere, I spent my February reading hours curled up under my duvet. Reading in bed is simply the best way to read – especially with there being such a fine line between the fiction you're reading, and your soon-to-be dream-filled mind. After hours of schoolwork, assuming the librocubicularist role is the source of ultimate comfort.

Noctivagant:

Walking or wandering in the nighttime.

I'm a fairly nocturnal being, in the sense I have a penchant for whittling the night away as I potter aimlessly around my room. February was no exception to this rule. I spent a grand portion of the month wandering around my room at these hours, completing mundane tasks like organising my bookshelf and so on. I also write and plan most of my blog posts around these late night hours – it's then that I, ironically, feel the most awake.

Smultronställe [Swedish]:

A "PLACE OF WILD STRAWBERRIES"; A SPECIAL PLACE DISCOVERED, TREASURED, RETURNED TO FOR SOLACE AND RELAXATION.

Considering I'm all too familiar with city life, every trip to the countryside always seems that little bit sweeter. I went on a countryside walk with a couple of my friends the other week to a place we often go together (homemade sandwiches, cake, etc. – yes, it really was that twee) and so this word seems so apt for the trip.

Uitwaaien [Dutch]:

To take a break to clear one's head; "to walk in the wind".

'Uitwaaien' is definitely February in a one-word nutshell. I spent a lot of February relaxing (mostly by watching Mad Men), but I also calmly organised this blog and so on. Despite the schoolwork piling up, February took a fairly languorous turn – as if it was merely a flickering break before the onslaught of work March will inevitably bring.

Scripturient:

A strong urge to write.

In case my blog doesn't occasionally make it evident (or rather, the mere fact I have a blog in the first place), I love to write. And the joyous thing about half term falling in February, is that Sylvia (the typewriter) felt human touch once again. February was a month where I just felt like writing.

How was February to you?

Blog posts written: Book Haul | A Somewhat Eclectic One, Mini Reviews | February 2015, The Joy of Handwriting, On Introversion And Creativity, My Reading Taste
Books read this month: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Franchise Affair, All My Friends Are Superheroes, Kafka on the Shore,

My Reading Taste

2015-02-22T10:00:00.000+00:00

What do I read?

I read elaborate love letters, addressed to worlds afar, written in golden ink, and signed by another being. I read what's hidden in the crevices of human imagination, and the crooks of reality.

I read about circuses, enchantment and folklore. I read about murder, insanity and suicide.

I read broken books mended by broken people, and I read ageless tales of generations far gone.

I read books that fit the heart-shaped keyhole of my mind. Tales that inspire and exhale originality.

I read tales of heroes and heroines, and stories which include neither. I read words of gritty stardust, written with the ink of a thousand years of influence. And I read the books I wish I'd written.

What do I read? I read everything.

Do you, like me, have an undefinable reading taste? Are you all for reading everything? Or is there one genre you love?

On Introversion & Creativity

2015-02-17T10:00:00.000+00:00

I'm an introvert.

Now, this doesn't mean I'm antisocial, or unexciting, or spiritless, it just means I'm often content with the company of my own mind. This said, the most accurate definition I've found, is this; introvert: one who focuses on the inner world of thoughts and ideas. And, often, I feel that, if I weren't such an introverted person, I wouldn't be so inclined to spending my days reading, writing, blogging and creating. In fact, I think my introverted nature is the cornerstone of my creativity.

And the truth is this: I love my mind. Of course I enjoy hanging out with my close group of friends, but I equally enjoy spending time with just me, my mind and a piece of paper. I enjoy crawling into the hidden crevices of my mind, and taking solace within the deeply-buried thoughts and ideas; I enjoy curling up under the duvets with a book in hand; and nothing excites me like an hour alone with a blank notebook. And it's within these moments my creativity reaches its peak.

These hours of reading, writing and blogging – where I'm left to enjoy the companionship of my ideas and my thoughts – are wonderful. It makes me wonder why so many adults turn to the quieter children and note, "you always have your head in the clouds" – as if it's wrong to be so entranced by your own imagination.

It's easy to confuse those who talk the loudest, and those who have the best ideas. Introverts, although not as outgoing and, often, not as confident as extroverts, make up some of the world's best creators (due to this deeply introspective focus on the mind). The majority of my favourite authors, for instance, are introverts – showing ideas can be communicated quietly, yet powerfully. To quote Susan Cain, author of Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking: “…remember that inside her mind she might be solving an equation, composing a sonnet, designing a hat. She might, that is, be deploying the powers of quiet.”

So, yes, I'm an introvert. And, whilst I don't intend to discredit or devalue extroverts (after all, a balance of the two is needed), I feel that my inclination towards introversion powers my creativity; being an introvert hasn't quietened me, no, not at all.

Are you a fellow introvert? What do you think about the relationship between introversion and creativity?

The Joy of Handwriting

2015-02-12T10:00:00.000+00:00

As I type this post, I’m bundled up in an over-sized woolen jumper with a notebook lying flat across my lap, my laptop on the desk in front of me. These words I’m typing have been written before – in much more personal, albeit illegible, font. They’ve been written in my inked and smudged, inconsistent and scruffy font – a font that no computer can find. And they’ve been written into the notebook that lies on my lap.

This gold-embossed notebook on my lap contains 15 blog post’s worth of hand-made inked scribbles. To the right of my laptop, there’s a pile of letters, a single string binding together the fantastically distinctive hand-written words of my pen pal. About two pen’s length away, a stack of post-its and to-do lists lie on my desk – my own scrawled writing dictating the day ahead.

So yes, I handwrite everything. I draft all my blog posts out in a notebook, I write letters to a pen pal in a generation where letter writing is becoming a lost art, and I ink-out the day ahead.

Why? Because I am madly in love with handwriting.

There’s simply something indescribably perfect and personal and exhilarating that lies within the motion of ink flowing from nib to page. And it’s oddly personal how distinctive handwriting is, isn’t it? I look at my own handwriting, and I love how acutely mine it is; I love how the dots of the i’s are always a little to the right, how the loops of the g’s differ slightly to those of the y’s and how it’s all bunched together, as if I’m worried I’ll run out of space for all these words.

“She may have looked normal on the outside, but once you'd seen her handwriting you knew she was deliciously complicated inside.” – Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot

In short, one of the best decisions I made during 2014 was to begin writing letters to another blogger [Hawwa's blog!]. As like-minded, bookish and arty individuals, letter writing seems to be our natural mean of communication. Receiving an email is wonderful and all that, but receiving a handwritten letter is so much more. They’re indelibly personal; small blots of ink, mid-letter, show where they’ve paused to think of what comes next; faint tea-stained rings, where they’ve reached for a sip of tea; and the endless flow of words shows exactly what they’re thinking. I wish I had time to write more letters. And more time to communicate in a way that seems, in so many indescribable and insignificant ways, mine.

In short, the physical sensation of putting pen to paper – it brings me such joy.

Do you handwrite anything and everything? Do you love to write letters? What joy does handwriting bring you (if any)?
Just wanted to point out how gorgeous Hawwa's letters are – see bottom left of photo above!

Mini Reviews | February 2015

2015-02-07T10:00:00.000+00:00

The Siege by Helen Dunmore –

This is a painful, often uncomfortable read, that succeeds in its accurate and emotionally-charged depiction of a period in history. The trials and tribulations of the twenty-two-year-old Anna and her family are harrowing; it's one of those reads that makes you appreciate everything you've ever taken for granted. Anna's an unlikely heroine, but it's difficult not to admire her resourcefulness and astounding bravery in the face of an era so harsh. And, to briefly touch upon the romance, Dunmore's elegant prose, joint with the stark backdrop of WW2 Leningrad, led to an epic depiction of love during the most unlikely of times. The only problem I had with this book is, well, me; if I had known more about the history of Leningrad, I would have been able to appreciate the depth of this novel even more. ★★★½

NORWEGIAN WOOD BY HARUKI MURAKAMI –

I was lying in bed, the morning after finishing this book, my whole being occupied by a dreamy languor, when the beauty and importance of Murakami's words finally struck me. It took me a while to comprehend and truly figure out this book – and, yet, even now, I'm still bewildered and baffled by the intensity and rawness of the novel. Sadness is a complex and intricate emotion, and I feel as if Murakami has fully encapsulated this in his time capsule of life, death and all that stuff in between. Despite the slow and downbeat beginning, Murakami's novel succeeds on a thematic level, as well as through its solid characterisation and wonderfully reflective ending. I'm not one for age ratings, but I should probably mention that this book deals with mature themes, such as suicide. ★★★★½

Vicious by V.E. Schwab –

This book can easily be summed up by the quotation which proceeds the tale: “Life—the way it really is—is a battle not between good and bad, but between bad and worse”. It's a twisted tale of morality and heroism, riddled with complex characters and telling backstories. To start with, the structure is flawless. Fast-paced and laced with small snippets of the character's past – it's simply exhilarating. My only problem? Sometimes everything moved a bit too fast. But, aside from this, the characterisation is fantastic – I adored Sydney and felt, somewhat oddly, attached to Victor. All in all, Vicious is a dynamic comic book-esque tale brought to life by addictive prose, ultimately challenging our black-and-white perception of good and bad. ★★★★

Have you read any of these? What did you think?