All It Takes Is One Book

I just finished The Book Thief (a fantastic book, one I’ll treasure forever, thank you so much for the recommendation Raya, please get your hands on it if you haven’t already read it, review to come) and I noticed something. My love for the book is separate from my love for the author.  Sometimes, I don’t make that distinction. Most of the time, I end up being a fan of an author because of a large body of their work. Think Tamora Pierce or Robin Hobb. It’s not the first book – even though that’s what sucks you in – but the series as a whole that I fall in love with. And even if an author writes stand-alones, it usually takes more than a book or two for me to start declaring my undying love for them.

In the case of a very few authors, though – all it takes is one book. And I can usually tell by the tenth page or so when I’ve found them. And, more often than not, it has very little to do with what they’re writing about. It’s how they write – you can TELL they’re pouring their soul into their writing – they don’t hold back. They bleed words and you treasure their books more because of it. Maybe this is why books can make me cry like nothing else can, I don’t know, but I get really choked up over things I think are beautiful, okay? And the way some of these people write? It makes you just want to drown in the words and never, ever stop reading them because real life just pales in comparison to the depth of the worlds they create.

So here you go. Here’s a list of authors that drive me insane with how beautiful their writing is.

Neil Gaiman

This will come as no surprise to anybody who knows me, and I couldn’t in good conscience make this list without him being at the very top. This man needs no introduction, and whether you’re a fan of his work or not (which I’ll find a little hard to believe, but okay), you cannot deny the fact that he just knows how to find the right words. His writing has a life of its own, and every time I pick up one of his books, I’m often left speechless and shaking my head in wonder. You cannot put him in a box – every book is different from the other and you almost never know what to expect.

My favourites: Sandman (review here), The Graveyard Book (review here)

Markus Zusak

I’ve only ever read The Book Thief and honestly? Two pages in, and I was in love. Fans of the book will know what I’m talking about, and if you haven’t read it already, PLEASE go out and get it. Trust me on this. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking and a lot of it has to do with the way Zusak writes. He’ll make you cry and ache to just reach into the book and hug all his characters – to protect them from everything you know is about to happen.

Susan Ee

Ever since I read Susan Ee’s debut, Angelfall (having found a review on The Novelettes’ Blog), my expectations of the entire YA Fantasy genre have gone up hundred-fold. Angelfall was such a surprise – a refreshing take on the done-to-death angel theme with a sensible female protagonist who had her priorities straight. And I think a lot of my respect for Susan Ee stems from that. Her writing seems effortless and everything that happens in the book is so natural. Not once did I have to exclaim, “Seriously?” – which I’ll admit, I do a lot. My point being, in Fantasy, a lot of authors create settings and then sometimes their characters do things that don’t make any sense in that setting. And that ruins everything else for me. Not with Angelfall. This one was easily one of my favourite discoveries of the year.

Melina Marchetta

Oh, man. How do I talk about Marchetta without sounding like I worship her?

I discovered Marchetta through Raya’s review of Saving Francesca, and that book just messed me up. It was so good. I then went and devoured Jellicoe Road and Finnikin of the Rock and I fully intend to read everything she’s ever written. Ever. She’s so lyrical and she has a way of making you oscillate between emotions without giving you any choice in the matter. One second you’re crying your eyes out and the next you’re clutching your stomach, laughing hysterically.

She’s a wordbird. There’s no other way I can describe it.

Brandon Sanderson

Here’s my story: I got Mistborn. Page 1. “Ash fell from the sky.” That is all. The end.

Helps that he creates fantastic characters, though. And his world-building? Don’t get me started.

Frances Hardinge

Frances Hardinge is an author I can gush about for HOURS. She’s terribly underrated, and trust me when I tell you I’m doing everything in my power to change that. When you need an instant pick-me-up? Read Frances Hardinge. When you need an author that appreciates the power and beauty of the written word? Read Frances Hardinge. When you need an author that can cleverly weave a story about twenty different things without you even noticing what it is she’s doing? Read Frances Hardinge. When you want weird and witty and an author that takes insane creative liberties and makes it work so that it feels completely normal? Yep. Frances Hardinge.

(Twilight Robbery reviewed here)

Jonathan Safran Foer

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was one of those books I read as a kid that defined me at the time. I read it when I was 13 or 14, I think, and I’ve read it more than ten times since. Extremely Loud is like my personal Lion King in book form. Oskar’s equation with his dad reminds me so much of Simba and Mufasa, and they’re both childhood treasures I keep locked up inside of me.

And there you have it. Are your favourite authors on my list? Do you have authors that make you feel the same way? Recommendations? Let me know!

Eleanor & Park – Rainbow Rowell

This isn’t going to be a positive review, so if the book is one of your favourites? You’ve been warned.

Eleanor & Park has been flooding my Goodreads feed and WordPress dash for ages now, and after finally getting my hands on a copy, I prepared myself for the cutesy, adorable, “intelligent” book I had been promised by so many reviews.

“Different”, they said. “Redefines the genre”, they said. “Rowell is like a female John Green”, they said.

Oh, no. No no no.

I am extremely upset with this book. Maybe it’s because I’m “Asian”, I don’t know, but the endless stereotypes that kept appearing – one after the other – just got on my nerves.

To start with – Park’s Korean mother speaks in terrible broken English. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! You’re going to go there? I’m so furious about this. We’re told that she came from a big family, and when she met Park’s Dad, a veteran, she relocated to Omaha. And that’s it. That’s her entire cultural history. Does Park’s upbringing have any Korean influences? No. Are you telling me that once you leave your country and set up camp elsewhere – no matter what your reasons – your cultural identity isn’t going to bleed through? Into whatever it is you decide to do after that?

And Park is 16 in the book, yes? That gives his mother – what? 20 odd years to perfect her English even if it wasn’t that great to begin with? (something I’m still not happy about – but it’s Rowell’s story and let’s just assume that’s the case.) And what? We’re supposed to believe that because she’s Korean, she talks like that and yet, has managed to shut out all her cultural allegiances? Really?

And she left Korea for love, we’re told. Okay, gotcha. This isn’t a story about her “escaping” her country for whatever reason, right? The only reason she left was because she was madly in love? Then why on earth isn’t she in touch with her family?

I’m sorry. I find all of this a little hard to digest.

Also, Park. While I think he’s probably the only character in the book I sort-of like, his endless complaints about his “Asian appearance” is just ARRRGH. Of all the things?! Of all the things that could bother him?! You know what, I’d get it if it was one of the things, but the only thing?

Don’t even get me started on Eleanor. I’m trying to excuse the things about her that I find…shall we say problematic? Anyway, I’m trying to attribute it to the fact that she has a lot on her plate. A truly huge list of things she has to deal with. Let’s just leave it at that.

I’ll tell you what my main issue with this book was? It tried too hard. It tried to be about Nerd Culture. It tried to be about Teenage Angst. It tried to be about First Love. It tried to be about Coping, and Dealing With Unfairness and Body Issues and a Great Many Other Things. And ultimately, about having that one person be there for you to pull you through all the crap happening in your life.

And in trying to achieve all that, not enough attention was paid to what could go wrong. Eleanor and Park are cute from time to time, but do I believe in them? Do I believe that what they have is more than bonding over music and comic books and the pangs of first love? No, I don’t. Eleanor and Park found each other at a time when both of them needed someone to lean on. And that creates a strong bond, yes. But it’s been my experience that that just isn’t enough. And I cannot help but point out that they don’t really know each other all that well. They don’t. And no matter how madly in love you are, no matter how somebody makes you feel, no matter how many voids it feels like that person fills – that kind of thing is going to catch up with you.

There’s this scene in the book where the class is reading Romeo and Juliet and their English teacher asks Eleanor if she thinks it’s tragic. And she rolls her eyes and says it’s obvious that Shakespeare is making fun of them.

“Romeo and Juliet are just two rich kids who’ve always gotten every little thing they wanted. And now, they think they want each other.”
“They’re in love …” Mr. Stessman said, clutching his heart.
“They don’t even know each other,” she said.
“It was love at first sight.”
“It was, ‘Oh my God, he’s so cute’ at first sight.”

 

And that. That is how I feel about the two of them. Maybe not the ‘at first sight’ part, no. But far too much emphasis is placed on how they see each other physically and almost nothing about how they connect on an intellectual and emotional level. And no, that is something that should be apparent without the author having to state it. It should just be there. In their conversations, in the things that make them laugh – but all we get is how cute they think the other is.

Which is a huge problem for me because that’s what is supposed to get them through all the other emotional baggage in the book. That’s what EVERYTHING rests on, and if the foundation is shaky then what are you building your castle on?

 

[Spoiler: Highlight to read]

Also, all throughout the book, somebody keeps scribbling distressing notes on Eleanor’s notebooks and at one point in the book, Park accuses Eleanor of writing them herself. She storms out (I approve) and after not seeing each other for – two weeks? – Park raps on her window in the middle of the night, they meet in secret, he greets her with a kiss (without any preamble), apologizes, and she’s just okay with him again. What the hell? What. The. Hell?

I don’t know. I wanted to love this book so much, because all said and done, I’m a sucker for a good old-fashioned romance. And books peppered with pop-culture/comic book references. But all these things just got in the way and I spent a majority of my time feeling irritated. While I can certainly see the appeal, this book just wound me up far too much to enjoy it.

It’s That Time of Year Again! [R.I.P VIII]

Mystery. Suspense. Thriller. Dark Fantasy. Gothic. Horror. Supernatural. Or anything sufficiently moody that shares a kinship with the above. That is what embodies the stories, written and visual, that we celebrate with the R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril event.

Every year, Carl V. over at Stainless Steel Droppings hosts the Once Upon a Time Challenge from March to June and the R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril Event from the 1st of September to the 31st of October- and I’m a huge fan of both.

Some of you might know that I went on an (almost) year-long blogging break around August 2012. And while I took part in R.I.P VII in spirit – obsessively devouring books left, right, and center – I wasn’t on the blogverse to share in the real fun. I fully intend to make up for it with a vengeance this year!

For those of you that don’t know what R.I.P is, go here. I’ll let the man himself explain it to you.

Also, there’s going to be a read-a-long of Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian. If you’d like to take part in the event, head over to The Estella Society to sign up!

I’ve compiled a list of the books I intend to read and movies / TV shows I intend to watch. I’m going to keep a permanent record here. Review links/ratings will appear below the titles as I finish them.

The Shining	American Gods	Children of Men
Marvel 1602	The Warded Man	Batman: Arkham Asylum
Forbrydelsen [The Killing]	The Usual Suspects	The Machinist

 

As always, I love recommendations, so feel free to throw them at me!

To: The Knife of Never Letting Go

To: The Knife of Never Letting Go Patrick Ness Prentisstown isn’t like other towns. Everyone can hear everyone else’s thoughts in an overwhelming, never-ending stream of Noise. Just a month away from the birthday that will make him a man, Todd and his dog, Manchee — whose thoughts Todd can hear too, whether he wants to or not — stumble upon an area of complete silence. They find that in a town where privacy is impossible, something terrible has been hidden — a secret so awful that Todd and Manchee must run for their lives. But how do you escape when your pursuers can hear your every thought?

Dear Knife,

I’m writing you a letter because I feel the need to address certain issues that you’ve no doubt noticed we have. Now, there’s no need to overreact, okay? I just want to talk.

I’d been looking forward to our first encounter for ages. After all, every single person that had met you seemed to have fallen in love with you. And while I must admit I’m quite infatuated with you myself, you also make me want to tear my hair out and direct every swear word in my vocabulary at you.

There. I said it.

Look, you know I’m a huge fan of how creative you are. You know that. I have immense respect for the world you built – come on, Noise? Constantly broadcasting everything you think about to everybody else? Who thinks of something like that?! Also, the way you handled how different towns reacted to women being Quiet and men being Noisy? That was well thought out, well executed, and very very smart.

So that’s not the issue at all, here. YOU are brilliant. My problem is with that Todd kid of yours.

Okay, I’ll be honest. I admit to a little bias here.  I’m a HUGE dog-person, so every time Todd did anything that made poor little Manchee go, “Ow, Todd?” I wanted to just take a gun and shoot the damn kid. I know it’s not an ideal world. I know there are people out there that treat their own pets terribly. I know you talking about it is just your way of being “realistic”, but that doesn’t make it okay. There’s a reason I avoid books with animals in them like the plague and THIS IS WHY. I have a dog – an adorable little fluffball whose purpose in life is to get us to chase him around the house while he chomps on his squeaky toy and to make us feel like the world wouldn’t exist without us. I kid you not. ALL dogs just want to give their People love. They’re astoundingly selfless, and as long as you’re happy and safe? They’re happy. So when people treat their pets – dogs, especially – like little mister Todd here? IT MAKES ME MAD.

There are going to be a few spoilers now. I suggest you keep this letter away from those that don’t know you too well, yet.

People are awful, Knife. There’s no use trying to avoid talking about it. People do terrible, terrible things. And I know you understand that – it’s pretty evident from that 500-paged long conversation we had. Yet, I can’t help but feel you place a certain emphasis on “innocence being lost” when Todd has to kill another person, rather than the act of killing itself. Which is something I CANNOT agree with.

You know the Spackle? And Lemon Meringue? (Avoiding spoilers is a deeply ingrained habit, it would seem) Not okay, Knife. I could argue that leaving someone to die – someone that was put in that position in the first place because he was trying to save your worthless hide – that’s a whole lot worse than killing someone. I’d say that if you ever made the decision to do that, I don’t care what your excuse is, your “innocence” has already flown out the window.  Also, killing a non-human when it’s clearly terrified of you and has done nothing to provoke you? That, too.

ALSO. Leaving villages and towns to die because of you? Not cool.

Why was there so little thinking? You must warn them, the writing on the map said. What are the immediate questions you think of? Warn whom? Of what? Why? Where could the answers be? Possibly the book that came with the map or the map itself? Oh, I can’t read? Then why don’t I swallow my effing pride and ask somebody who can before something bad happens?!

I don’t get it, Knife. I just don’t get why so many bad things had to happen, one after the other.

And for what? I haven’t met your siblings yet, so maybe there’s more to Todd than meets the eye. But all this fuss just because he’s the only one in Prentisstown that hasn’t killed anybody yet? I find that a little hard to swallow.

Look, with Harry (have you met Harry?) – there’s a reason he needs to be kept alive. And a solid, unquestionable reason for Voldemort wanting him dead. With Todd, I can’t say I understand why the whole village is so eager to get their hands on him. I understand what he represents just fine. The extent they go to to capture him is just a little unrealistic, I think.

And, yes. I am aware that I survive on a healthy diet of fantasy – but when you create a setting, things are supposed to make sense within the frame you created. I had so many questions – and none of them deep or philosophical. They were mostly just along the lines of, “Why is this happening? What’s the point of all this?”

I know that it might seem like I…um…hate you. I don’t. Really. There were so many instances that made me want to give you the biggest bear hug in the history of Ever. It’s just that all these things were bothering me and I needed to clear the air. You understand, don’t you?

I’m still going to emphatically recommend you to every reader I know. And have heated debates about you. Don’t you worry.

Yours,

Tanya.

Read-a-thon Alert!

Remember the Dusty Bookshelf Challenge I told you about? Well, guess what? They’re hosting a read-a-thon.

This is just going to be a reallyreallyquick post telling you things you need to know, just in case you want to join. (Which you totally do, right? RIGHT?)

1. What is this Dusty Bookshelf Business?

Basically, you vow to give the neglected books on your shelf some much-needed love. Those books that you bought AGES ago but haven’t read yet? Oh, pshh, don’t bother denying it. We all have those. :)

In case you want a more concrete explanation – here‘s the original post. And here‘s the Goodreads group.

2. What’s a read-a-thon?

You typically set aside some time – in this case, it’s a weekend – and you dedicate that time to reading. Get rid of all unnecessary distractions, maybe grab a glass of wine, and settle in with your book of choice. Pretty much my idea of the perfect weekend.

3. How many books do I have to read? Do I have to take part for the entire 48 hours?

This is up to you, really. I’ve just decided on one book, as of now. The Knife of Never Letting Go. My reading speed will depend on the book – if it’s as good as everybody says it is, I might gobble up the other two in the series. If I feel like reading something different after I’m done with this, I might do that, too.

I’m planning to stay up all night – I thought that might make it more exciting. Let’s see how it goes! You can choose to spend as much or as little time as you want, as long as you’re actually dedicating the weekend to your reading. I know that depends on how flexible your schedule is and that’s why there are no fixed rules for this. Just relax, unwind, read.

Source: Belcastro Agency

4. Okay. I want to sign up! When is this happening? Is there anything else I should know?

We’re thinking of having this on maybe a monthly basis. Keeping it flexible so people who miss one can attend the next, you know? The first one is happening on the 24th and 25th of August. If you’re on Goodreads, the thread for this read-a-thon is here. If you’re going to be using Twitter to post your updates, use #DBReadathon.

While you’re at it, feel free to add me on Goodreads / find me on Twitter if you do decide to take part. Or even otherwise. I love book-conversations. :)

And that’s it. There aren’t any rules, really. Just pick up a book you’ve been meaning to read for a really long time, talk to us about it/them, and most importantly – have fun reading!

Book-To-Screen Panic Attacks

A feeling we’re all familiar with, I think.

I’m a firm believer of the read-it-first-then-watch-it school of thought. Although, I sometimes go the read-the-book-ditch-the-movie way, too. Most of the time, this is a philosophy I can live with since the book is almost always better than the movie – more well-rounded, the escalation is choreographed better and you get to picture the characters as they were intended. No ridiculous casting choices spoiling it for you. History has shown us time and again how trusting a movie to do justice to a book is the equivalent of being Voldemort and gifting Harry one of your horcruxes for Christmas.

So the movie-ditching? No problem.

But sometimes, just sometimes, this other part of my brain talks to me. This is that annoying little voice that urges me to be a genre-less reader. The voice that admits to liking the Coraline movie just that tiny bit better than the book. The voice that tells me it’s okay to leave a book unfinished if it doesn’t seem to be working out.

And right now, it’s telling me to stop being such a coward.

What brought this on, you ask? I recently watched The Princess Bride and I’ve just been kicking myself for taking so long to get around to it. I’m a HUGE fan of the book and every time I spoke to somebody about it and they asked me if I had watched the movie, I basically turned into a puddle of goo. I’m not equipped to handle the trauma of books being butchered on-screen, okay? There’s only so much I can take.

I probably wouldn’t have watched it – ever – if it hadn’t been for a fellow blogger. She convinced me to give it a go and – surprise, surprise – I loved it. And therein lies the problem.

When people tell me they’re not going to read something because they’ve already watched the movie – I lose it. I turn into this crazy ninja and karate-chop them in half.

“How can you live with yourself?”

“Have you no soul?”

“What is wrong with you?”

Etc.

But I just realised that I’ve been doing the exact same thing – in reverse. Making a movie takes a certain level of artistry. Agreed? And yet, a lot of book readers, me included, simply dismiss a movie by virtue of  it. being. a. movie. How is that any different from people who say, “Oh I’m not going to read a book. I’ll just watch the movie!”

Now, this makes me extremely uncomfortable. Sometimes I watch a movie and then, after I’m done, I discover it was based on a book. So, I track that book down and devour it. In my mind, this is excusable because I didn’t know of the existence of the book beforehand. Nine times out of ten, I’ll like the book better. Occasionally, I’ll like the movie better. Besides Coraline, Fight Club is another example – I adore the movie, yet couldn’t even finish the book.

And then there are those movies that are just terrible. Not just as an adaptation, but as a movie. They’re awful. They make me want to scream and cry and throw a tantrum and write angry letters to the People In Charge along the lines of  MY-EEEEYES. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY EYES?!

Every once in a while, though, you’ll find a movie adaptation that finds its own two feet to stand on. Think High Fidelity. And yes, The Princess Bride. You watch them, and you don’t even remember that it’s based on a book you so dearly love. It’s a movie in its own right – free from comparison. You try, and try, and find that you have to talk about it as a separate entity. Neither the book nor the movie is better than the other. You love both – but for completely different reasons.

And this. THIS is what we’re missing out on, fellow book-readers. By issuing a blanket no to any movie that dares to belong to the same family tree as your favourite book, we’re overlooking these little gems that might exist out there. How are you going to know unless you leave the guns at home and give it a try?

I propose a challenge. I’m going to need all the practice I can get for when Divergent releases on the big screen, and to prepare for that, I’m going to go out and watch five movies over the next week or so – irrespective of whether I’ve read the book or not. I’m going to try to keep an open mind – no trembling in my boots, no complaining and definitely no comparing. I’d love recommendations, and I’d love it even more if you’d like to do this with me! Yes? Great!

May the odds be ever in your favour.

 

Links and things

Coraline: Book | Movie

Fight Club: Book | Movie

High Fidelity: Book | Movie

Divergent: Book | Movie

Why Frances Hardinge’s Twilight Robbery Should Be On Your Reading List.

Just LOOK at that gorgeous cover.

I can’t tell you how much I love this woman’s writing. I simply can’t. Ever since I read Fly By Night, I’ve been a fan. I can’t tell you much about what reading this book was like – I was in a daze for most of it – but if I said I was reduced to a creature that fervently kept turning the pages, marveling at how she makes words bend to her will, laughing really loudly every once in a while, staring wide-eyed at the book every time something unexpected happened (which, towards the end, was every ten minutes or so), all the while silently promising to go out and pick up every single book she has ever written and yell about how amazing she is to anybody willing to listen – I’d come somewhat close.

You need convincing?

#1: This is the sequel to Fly By Night. If you’ve read that? Just that sentence should be enough to get you running to the library/bookstore. If you haven’t read that – you’ll want to. Trust me.

#2: I’m going to give you little snippets from the book, okay? When I say this woman has a way with words, I’m not kidding.

Lost: one bonnet, two clogs. Kept in spite of the odds: two thumbs, one life.

*****

“I generally find,” Clent murmured after a pause, “that it is best to treat borrowed time the same way as borrowed money. Spend it with panache, and try to be somewhere else when it runs out.”

*****

Revenge is a dish best served unexpectedly and from a distance – like a thrown trifle.

#3: I’d love to keep quoting from the book all day, but I’m afraid I’d be throwing spoilers at you in the process. Instead, I present to you, Exhibit A:

I keep an emergency stash of bookmarks on my bedside table because, well, I’m lazy, okay? I hate having to look for one every time I need to put the book down. But then, as I settled in to start reading, I remembered that this was a Frances Hardinge book I was reading and that there were going to be LOTS of passages that I’d want to mark – far more than the seven bookmarks could cover. So I just tore up a sheet of paper I didn’t need and there you have it. Keep in mind that we’re not counting the ones in the parts of the book where I just gave up keeping track of them and concerned myself only with what came next. I definitely need to re-read this again, and soon.

#4: Every time, e-v-e-r-y blooming time I thought I had this book figured out, it just slapped me across the face and turned everything upside down. Now, I’d like to think I’m a fairly sharp reader and usually, I can figure out the general direction a book is going in. But Hardinge is able to wreak more havoc in ten pages than more most authors I’ve read do in a hundred.

#5: It’s got a homicidal goose. Yep. You heard me.

Since that time Saracen had been making a name for himself. That name was not ‘Saracen’. Indeed the name was more along the lines of ‘that hell-fowl’, ‘did-you-see-what-it-did-to-my-leg’, ‘kill-it-kill-it-there-it-goes’ or ‘what’s-that-chirfugging-goose-done-now’.

Look. You could wave your hand dismissively and say, “Oh, but it’s a book for children.” And you’d be right. It is. But you know what? It doesn’t read like that at all. From the very beginning you’re sucked into the world Hardinge creates – growing attached to the characters, puzzling things out as you go along, living the book. She  makes your brain jog, she does, and if I had been lucky enough to read this growing up, I’d be a LOT smarter than I am today. Without a doubt.

And the themes in this book? They’re beautifully handled. I had to write about the trends/taboos in YA and Children’s Literature for college last year, and my main complaint? A lot of parents and teachers ban books that give children “dangerous” ideas – somehow, they’re under the illusion that if things don’t get talked about, then they cease to exist in the child’s world. And I personally think that it’s the worst way to go about it. It’s the sensitive issues that need talking about. And that’s why authors that don’t talk down to children deserve to be applauded. Frances Hardinge is one such author. Between the two books, you have books being banned and burned because “Everybody knew that books were dangerous. Read the wrong book, it was said, and the words crawled around your brain on black legs and drove you mad, wicked mad.” She brings in atheism – the quiet questioning of whether upholding superstition would really do more good than simply being quick-witted, political injustice, coping with desperation, rebellion and the need for equality in society. All this without you even noticing. All this while you’re swiftly turning pages, silently cheering little Mosca Mye on.

As far as characters go – Mosca is a breath of fresh air. Armed with her “winged warzone”, Saracen, and accompanied by Eponymous Clent (poet and Manipulator of Words),  Mosca sees the world in a way I haven’t heard described before. You cannot help but fall in love with her – she’s smart, and hot-headed, and if she doesn’t like what’s going on, she’ll say exactly what’s on her mind, thankyouverymuch. She’s small and scared and resourceful and fearless and a very strong contender for my favourite book character of all time.

In conclusion? World-building? Amazing. Characters? Extremely well-rounded. Intelligent content? And then some. Writing? I can’t even come up with a good enough adjective.

Fly By Night and Twilight Robbery are books about the power of words. The power to create, destroy, manipulate, protect – the power of words to shape ideas in minds, to offer comfort, to overthrow oppressive regimes. The power to think.

Also, I really want a pet goose.

Psst! Have you checked out her website? It’s ridiculous. While you’re at it, read her About page. For people in the US, you’ll find Twilight Robbery listed as Fly Trap. As far as I know, this only applies to the US.

On Reading and Dusty Bookshelves

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about why I read, and why I read what I read.

For the last month or so, I’ve been devouring every YA Fantasy book I can lay my hands on – I’ve found some astonishingly good ones (a post for another time?) and some not-so-good ones. Continuing in the same vein, I picked up Legend two nights ago and was just overcome with a feeling of guilt. I haven’t been able to read since.

My reading has always been a hodge-podge of genres. I go through phases, yes, but they don’t last very long. And for some reason, Legend just triggered something off in me.

See, I’m taking the year off from college. Primarily to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life career-wise, but a huge part of the reason was that I also started to feel that I was doing more I’m-supposed-to-do-these things and less I-want-to-do-these things. My reading started to suffer, the pleasure I got from reading was put on the back seat and emphasis was given to the next assignment I needed to complete or the next exam I needed to study for. I wasn’t having fun, even though these were subjects I had chosen to study. Subjects I loved.

It’s part of the reason I went on an almost year-long blogging hiatus. And when I came back, I found that I needed a fresh start – a spanking new blog.

Anyway, I spent the last two days making lists because making lists makes me feel like a ninja. I’ve written down every single book that I started to read during college but had to put down for some reason or the other, and now I’m going to attack them with a vengeance. Code Name: Operation Year Off.

Also? Since I’m a mood-reader? Every time I don’t feel like reading one of the books I have? I just skip on down to a bookstore and pick one up. And I know this makes me feel better at the time – I have a friend that says, “I firmly believe that the purchase of books is a distinct activity with therapeutic qualities and is entirely unconnected to the actual reading of those books.” And I agree. Wholeheartedly. But it’s just gotten to a point where I have all these wonderful books just waiting to be read, accumulating dust on my shelves.

And so, when I remembered seeing this on Astarteia’s blog, I checked it out and as of this post, I’m officially signed up. There are going to be times when I just don’t feel like reading the books I have, and that’s cool with me as long as I’m actively trying to change my book-hoarding status to a book-reading one.

2013 – Dusty Bookshelf Challenge

Hosted by Books – A True Story, this is a year long challenge where they’ve got monthly themes and everything. I wish I’d signed up sooner, just look at the themes from the early months. It seems very relaxed – just a bunch of people looking to make a dent in their reading list. They’re just a little more organised about it than I am.

Okay, so, what do you do if you want to join?

1. Sign-up with a blog post, by joining the Goodreads group, or leaving a comment on this post.  Be sure to link your blog post in the linky below.  Include in your blog post the badge and your list of books you want to read.

2. Pick a level:

~Pixie Dust – Read 0-5 books

~Dust Bunny – Read 5-10 books

~Cobwebs – Read 10-15 books

~Grungy – Read 20+ books

EXTRA CREDIT-Say how long that book has been sitting on your shelf!

Doable, right? The list of books I have in mind is here. They aren’t concrete reading plans, just the ones I’ve been wanting to read the longest/most. I thought of adding graphic novels to the list, but then it would just explode and I don’t want this to be one of those intimidating challenges.

I’m aiming for Cobwebs, but if I can’t finish all the books on my list, or if life happens and I get new books I’ve been wanting to read, these will just spill over into Operation Year Off. Okay? Okay. 

Also, I’m curious. How do you handle your TBR pile?

Jellicoe Road – Melina Marchetta

Oh my god, this woman.

I’ve been walking around like a zombie the entire day, trying to find the words that will do justice to how I feel about Melina Marchetta‘s (On the) Jellicoe Road, and I’m still unable to wrap my head around what this book did to me. I want to gush and use words like beautiful and poignant and heart-wrenching, but they don’t even come close to describing the depth of emotions I’m drowning in right now.

You know how there are books you want to keep a closely guarded secret because you know – you just know – it would kill a part of you if somebody didn’t appreciate it as much? And then there are those books that restore your faith in humanity and are so real and honest that you want to cry because such a thing exists and you’re frustrated that it took you so long to find it and you’re just downright giddy with happiness because reading them does something to you and you suddenly want to make changes in your life because you haven’t been living the way you always dreamed you would and you want to share it with the world so that they can feel the same way?

That’s what Jellicoe Road is – a gift to the world. I’m not talking about its literary merit here, although Marchetta’s writing by itself is astounding. I’m talking about it being a tiny voice contained in these 300 pages telling you to be the kind of person you’ve always wished you were. That little voice that gets lost in our constant rush to get somewhere. We have moments – I know I do – when we just take a step back from whatever we’re “supposed” to be doing at the time and ask ourselves just where the hell we’re going with our lives. And then it’s gone. It’s back to finishing assignments, studying for exams, working.

Not living.

You know what I want to do?

I want to write this book on my walls. I want to stare at it everyday and remind myself of what is important to me. I want to wake up to Marchetta’s unbelievable ability to say exactly what I wish I could say to myself sometimes, and to say it in a way that is just.. right. Wake up to her ability to create characters that make me howl with laughter and sob hysterically in equal measures. I want to read every book she’s ever written and carry them with me everywhere I go, because just knowing they are there for me, should I need them, is comforting.

I want to change the summary of this book on Goodreads, because it doesn’t come close to even being in the same continent of what this book is about.

I want to praise Melina Marchetta to the skies for creating secondary characters that aren’t just accessories, but are as vividly alive as the main ones. I want to point at Taylor Markham and tell whoever is willing to listen, “THAT. That is how you create female YA characters.” I desperately want to be able to stay separate from all the Jonah Griggs-love that is floating around on Tumblr (I’m failing miserably).

I want to flood this review with quotes from the book, just to show you how lyrical and soul-shattering her writing is, but I really really think I’d be taking something away from you if I did. Her words deserve to be consumed with full knowledge of all that came before it because only then will it resonate as strongly as it should.

I want to buy a thousand copies of this book and go up to every human being I know and thrust this at them with the hugest smile on my face and say :

And most importantly, I want to thank Raya with everything I’ve got for introducing me to such a wonderful author.

I’m Not Sure How To Review This One.

Look. I’ll be honest. This is one hell of a premise.

Intrigued? Yeah, well. It doesn’t end there.

I tried coming up with an appropriate expression to mirror how The Yeti feels about John Layman’s Chew, but it was part how-on-earth-did-he-come-up-with-half-this-stuff-?! and part no-no-no-I-don’t-want-to-turn-the-page and part but-he-could-have-done-SO-much-more-with-this-! and part grinning like an idiot.

Even now, reviewing it months after I finished reading it (well, the first six volumes, anyway), I don’t know if I want to thrust this at everyone I meet and see what they make of it, or be disappointed that the series fell short of my expectations of the premise.

Tony Chu is a detective, see? So he goes around doing detective-y things and from time to time, they..um..reach a dead end in the investigation. Now, normal detectives would give up and go home for the day, or go back and see if they’ve missed anything or done, you know. Whatever. But not Tony Chu. Oh, no. He’s got Cibopathy going for him, the poor guy. All he needs is a little..taste.

Ick.

I don’t know how they did it, but Layman and Rob Guillory (the illustrator) manage to find a balance between grossing you out and making you laugh until your sides hurt. There’s creative-swearing aplenty, and the Government decreeing a Poultry Prohibition, and a bionic sidekick  and a weird creepy tentacled plant that seems to give a lot of people the heebie-jeebies, and vampires that are not really vampires but might be vampires but then again might not be..you know. All that usual stuff.

I feel like I should probably explain why I gave these books such a low rating on Goodreads. Looking back, I remember feeling bitterly disappointed. I remember waiting and waiting and waiting for Chew to just blow my brains out and leave them splattered on the wall. It easily could have, and I think that’s is why I ended up being extra harsh when it came to rating it. I felt mildly cheated.

That said, I’d still recommend Chew. Because a book that makes you slightly uncomfortable and manages to make you laugh in the same breath is always a plus in my eyes, and also for the characters Layman litters these books with. I don’t want to spoil their introductions for you, because almost all of them made me chuckle, but my favourite – my absolute favourite – was Poyo.

Poyo was exposed to a near-lethal amount of radiation as an egg, during the first stages of a government experiment to create mutant super soldiers–trained in exotic martial arts technique by Tibetan Kung Fu fightin’ monks–and given strange bio-enhancements during a rash of farm animal abductions by extra-terrestrials. Nah, just kidding. None of that shit is true. Poyo is just really, really badass.”

And guess. Just guess what Poyo is.

Nope. Guess again.

Nope.

He’s a chicken. A badass ninja chicken.

BWAHAHAHAHA.