Kenzaburo Ue - The Silent Cry

Winning the Nobel Prize for Literature (in 2004, to be exact) DOES make your work stand out a little on bookshelves. Thus it was with great trepidation that I yanked this novel out of its snug little spot in the university library, and promptly made good work of it.

Kenzaburo Ue, for those of you who are Murakami addicts, alludes less to Western culture; unfortunately, this means you are staring at a rather oblique series of references all the way. He writes with a hint of Dostoyevsky; mystical people drift in and out of incongruous events, reminding you that the fixity of life is not as it seems.

The plot involves two brothers, and one's lecherous wife; the wife openly has consensual relations with the brother, but in the end, her legitimate husband takes her back without a whimper. Interspersed between are a series of Nobukoro protests and other events that keep the personal calamities that occur firmly within context.

The novel still has American references galore; frequent allusions to American pop culture abound, and the eagle-eyed will spot the song lyrics and English puns that are spouted regularly.

I give this a 9 out of 10.

Paul Auster - The New York Trilogy

If anything, one of the most complex books you'll ever read, and something any Murakami fan should read, for, in the words of a respected Murakami fanclub elder, "more Murakami than the man himself."

Paul Auster enjoys transcending the theme of metafiction, frequently slipping himself into his work; that gives this trilogy (each novella numbering a good hundred pages) a rather personal, mystical feel.

The first novella, City of Glass is a detective story turned psychoromp, where the hunted shifts from without the author to within. Gradually, as Stillman himself discovers that he is searching for a person who actually does not exist except in his imagination. Slowly, as he descends into madness, layers of identity and reality are examined, as Paul Auster the writer of the novel; "the author" who reports the events as reality; "Paul Auster the writer", a character in the story; and "Paul Auster the detective", who may or may not exist in the novel.

The second novella, Ghosts, is about a private eye called Blue who is investigating a man named Black for a client named White. Black and White turn out to be the same person, a writer who is writing a story about Blue watching him.

Finally, The Locked Room is the story of a writer who lacks the creativity to produce fiction. Fanshawe, his childhood friend has produced creative work, and when he disappears the writer publishes his work and replaces him in his family. While trying to deal with their relationship, he discovers his creative gift, and it emerges that he is the author of the three stories of the trilogy.

Eventually, in "The Locked Room", the three tales are tied together in a hauntingly perfect manner; in the first two tales, Paul Auster as author explores the transcending of Paul Auster as character, both in eponymous fashion, and while adopting generic colour names; in the third, the main question of the three novels finally comes to a head - Who ACTUALLY narrates these three novels?

And with that thought gently brushing the tip of the reader's consciousness, Auster leaves the reader grappling with issues of his own identity.

This is deemed worthy to be termed a classic of postmodernism; I give it a 9 out of 10.

Will and Me - Dominic Dromgoole

Writing a review in the middle of reading a book is just about as unorthodox as one can get. Unfortunately, that's precisely the case, and this can only be no ordinary book.

Welcome to "Will and Me", with the telling subheader that says "How Shakespeare Took Over My Life." Life, indeed. Here, Dominic Dromgoole relates his love relationship with the Chief Poet in a dreamy, passionate, yet sometimes self-deprecating way. His series of short, condensed essay-like chapters chronicle a journey of reminiscence, but also one of acute self-awareness. One gets the feeling that Dromgoole is trying to tell himself how he learned from Shakespeare on a whole new personal level - and not a morally-right this-is-how-you-should-be way, and just happens to tell it to us, as well.

A literature enthusiast would be thrilled at the leisurely quality of this book, but also its profoundly intellectual side (more notably, the second part of the book titled 'The Walk', a pilgrimage from Stratford to London's Globe). Quotes from the most famous to the more obscure Shakespeare plays feature extensively here, one of my favourites being:

"Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root." -- Pandarus, in Troilus and Cressida

It is a wondrous piece of autobiographical tribute to Shakespeare, especially for a budding King Lear student (i.e. yours truly) to listen to his glowing words of praise for a Lawrence Olivier production and suddenly seized with the desire to see it for myself. The headers of each 'short essay' are also catchy and outline this book's uniqueness even more - they all begin with curiously small letters, and consist of an amalgamation of curious key words: 'Glastonbury Cabaret, apeshit sessions and the Falstaff pattern.'

Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser. But all is soon explained once the chapter is read.

Dromgoole succeeds in channeling his passion to his readers (who, presumably, are also avid fans of Shakespeare) and manages to endear this connection to us as we sympathise with accounts of his failed attempts at reenacting Shakespeare plays with his peers from Cambridge in a rather shaky theatre company.

Freshly published in 2007, it is contemporary enough to make us admire his attempts to stage art to the modern masses, and historical enough to make the older generation connect with the periods of war gone through by Dromgoole's thespian parents.

"Will and Me" was compelling enough in the first half of reading to move this reader into reviewing it on page 137. It might well be the same for you.

- Michelle Tan

Marina Lewycka - A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian

Nadezhda and Vera, two Ukrainian sisters, have absolutely nothing to do with each other for years.

Upon the arrival of the thirtysomething Immigration Scam Young Female Thing who plans on usurping the memories of their long-dead mother, and embarking on a whirlwind relationship with their octogenarian father, squandering all his money in the process, the sisters join forces in an endearingly funny way.

As they deal with her ruthlessness, they realise they are facing a professional, complete with indulgent son, who supplies many moments of mirth in the story. The diabolic mental acuity of the Cruella de Vil is juxtaposed hilariously with the almost-oblivious devotion of their father to completing his tome about tractors in Ukranian; and in a fitting tribute to how she has rendered his - and their - world topsy-turvy, at the end of the story, the biggest family secret of all tumbles.

Winner of the Wodehouse Humour Fiction Award 2006, this novel will touch the heart of any estranged sibling pairing around; it proves, beyond all doubt, that adversity is what it takes to get a family's solidarity gears well-oiled again. The sheer infinitesimality of the feud between Nadezha and Vera is revealed, as they array forces against the young pretender to the throne; and at the end of the tale, as her husband arrives to bail them out of their misery, we are rewarded by a poignant scene of semi-reconciliation between all.

Funny, frightfully funny. It gets a 8.5 out of 10; not a 9, for it is in no way a groundbreaking work whether in style, plot device or idea flow, but a good read for that languid summer poolside deckchair.

Banana Yoshimoto - Kitchen

The cult classic that propelled Yoshimoto to fame in 1989. It won two of Japan's most prestigious literary prizes, and clung on for dear life to the top of the Japanese bestseller lists for a whole year. And counting. Its translation into English was, naturally, greeted with accolades from the Western publishing industry.

Essentially, if you're a fan of the Murakami short story, this is one, writ large. To be exact, two. It purports to be a contiguous story, divided into two parts; both address weighty issues of life, love and death in a postmodern surreal way.

First up, we have "Kitchen", a hundred-word tale that is convincingly aching. Mikage is adopted by Eriko, mother to Yuichi; Eriko herself is far from free of controversy, having undergone a sex change after her/his wife died. Tellingly, in her male incarnation, he was adopted by his future wife's family, whom he eventually eloped with, earning their ire; she finally perished in an accident, leaving Yuichi and Eriko clinging on to each other uncertainly.

The relationship-but-not-there scenario is played out mesmerisingly, as people of all inclinations bedevil their budding sort-of-love. As the story reaches a characteristically quirky Yoshimoto conclusion, with Mikage presenting a gift of pork udon to Yuichi, ties are mended, love still simmers meaningfully under the surface, and the two erstwhile lovers walk away from a previously awkward situation.

Next up is "Moonlight Shadow", a haunting novella about what happens to the remaining lover when one dies. Hitoshi and Hiiragi, brothers, date Satsuki, the protagonist and Yumiko respectively. When Hitoshi and Yumiko perish in a car accident as he picks her up from the airport, things turn awry for Satsuki, who is bent on saying goodbye to Hitoshi.

The entire tale is, seemingly, penned in the past; her journey to saying goodbye to Hitoshi is buffeted by memories that slowly ease the fall. As the story concludes, and Satsuki is hauntingly visited again by her betrothed, the final chilling lines, "I earnestly pray that a trace of my girl-child self will always be with you. For waving goodbye, I thank you." are a sure-fire tear-jerker.

These two novellas will leave you reeling with the power of the written word, in brief. A hearty recommendation is thus attached, and readers of all ages will enjoy this adventure into the more esoteric of genres.

Banana Yoshimoto - Lizard

An author that I have spent the last few years attempting vainly to track down; and upon my return to Newcastle, a row of shining Yoshimoto works line the shelves of the Japanese literature section.

No more, as they all belong to me now, till the irate coterie of Japanese literature students angrily demand a restraining order on me in the Robinson Library forever more.

This book is a collection of short stories, in the time-honoured tradition of Murakami and his asinine works. Each tale begins and ends the same way; lonely young person strolls through a world resembling a dreamscape of his own design, and later, through a series of seemingly mundane activities, finds the way out of his rut.

People float in and out of the tales like a dream; there are people doing things that would be perfectly mundane in real life, but acquire significance, in this book, as everything slowly interlinks. Magic realism is the key; Yoshimoto, in "A Strange Tale from Down By The River", slowly introduces the death of the protagonist's sister, yet juxtaposes her into the lives of her fiance; his brother, and many other people whose lives make her passing all the more lamentable.

I give it a 9/10 - a good intro to Yoshimoto's work

R.A Salvatore - Servant of the Shard

Well, this book is a series of the adventures two unnatural allies finds on the face of Faerun, a dangerous assasin named Artemis Entreri and a cunning and unpredictable drow named Jarlaxle. This book here is set after Drizzt Do'Urden has brought the Crystal Shard, a sentient relic of unimaginable power with the goal for ultimate power, to the hands of one of Jarlaxles henchman pretending to be the priest Cadderly in order to steal the crystal shard from him. Artemis Entreri believed he had finally defeated his rival Drizzt in a battle and, seeing his quest finally over, joined Jarlaxle and his dangerous band of mercenaries Bregan Daer'thae in an attempt to make profit on the surface. The story is mainly about the assasin and the drow as they are betrayed by the generals of Jarlaxles own band and must struggle to survive and destroy the shard before it can corrupt anymore souls. R.A Salvatore combines both danger and humour together to make a wonderful story.

I give this a 4 out 5 ^^ My explanation may be a bit ... mrrruh... though. It's been 3 months since i read it.

Don DeLillo - Underworld

The magnum opus of this acclaimed writer; and some maintain, easily a work of staggering genius. This novel covers the length and breadth of the entire 20th century, easily encapsulating the formative events of the century. In the process, he also intertwines lives that would normally be passed on by under the penmanship of a less accomplished novelist, giving depth beyond compare to the postmodern era we reside in.

Don DeLillo employs imagery that would astound the ordinary reader; metaphors, analogies, similes are tossed around like nobody's business, creating a richly woven texture that is bound to excite even the most pedantic of literature lovers. In DeLillo's tale, two lives are followed; but so many other lives on the periphery are involved that, at times, the novel is in danger of spiralling out of control as a narrative, transmogrifying into a descriptive painting.

The average reader will be hardpressed to make any sense of this work; you have to seriously peer into the details to understand how rich the tapestry of Cold War America is. The many characters who flit in and out of the plot, symbolically represent the porous borders of Cold War America, an age where no one really knew which side was which, an age where enemies changed fluidly almost at the whim of whoever was in power.

If you like Murakami, you'll like him; there's enough wordplay to keep you up all night in the deciphering trade. He endowns characters with the oddest quirks; ranging from the deranged purveyor of the skin trade to the many scientists involved. As the camera pans from character to character, one realises that, in the confusion of a Cold War America struggling to find its feet, the characters and their lives are the best guide to that momentous era.

Chuck Palahniuk - Diary

One of my most exciting reads all year, and certainly a worthy shot, no doubt, for Best Book of the Year (though, of course, this book has been in the market for a while now.)

I was initially very unimpressed by what I saw; a 230-page tome, with a cover reminiscent of trashy teen fiction, I was ready to fling it to the back of my reading list. But the utterly captivating opening chapter drew me in IMMEDIATELY. And I was hooked. It opens with a rather chilling anatomical description of how each facial muscle works in concert (or not) to form familiar facial expressions.

And how these facial expressions have simply stopped working for a certain Peter who has just committed attempted suicide. And is right now letting his wife Misty proceed with her waitressing job, as the people around her all die. Sort of.

Soon, the novel takes a nihilistic turn, and you realise that there is a shady force, unspoken yet evil, that works behind the scenes, threatening to kill everyone on the island. (Which it DOES eventually do.) The shady force slowly annihilates everyone on the island, as Misty concurrently rediscovers her artistic talent - something she shrugged off when Peter made her pregnant in art school, making her drop out.

As the momentum of the novel builds up to Misty's first art exhibition post-suicide, the killings begin getting more vehement, and for the reader, it takes all one's patience to prevent oneself from flipping to the end, to learn, exactly, who is behind the spate.

A fabulous, fabulous book, written in a style that is postmodern, but not vacuously story-devoid at the same time. One of those books that you cannot take your eyes off, be it due to plot, language, or style.

I give it a 10 out of 10, and I have NEVER done that before.

On a related note, CONGRATULATIONS to Bal, our co-writer, for his straight A achievement! Off to Newcastle he goes to join me.

Don DeLillo - Libra

A take of the JFK murders from a unique viewpoint - that of the upbringing and motives of Lee Harvey Oswald, told from a CIA-conspiracy point of view. Those more familiar with DeLillo's more recent, more surreal works might be surprised at the relatively deep grounding this book possesses; nonetheless, the theme of nurture trumping over nature is relatively well articulated throughout.

Much is made of Oswald's crucially unhappy upbringing, and twisted development; he is portrayed as a character whose hand was forced by fate and circumstances to become the monster he would be. Still, his monstrosities are less diabolic, being the social construct that they are, when put in comparison with those of the people who ultimately kill him in prison.

This book is a rather mesmerising gem of a thriller; it captivates the reader's attention by flitting between two character perspectives, piquing reader interest. A word of warning, though - the book is NOT for those who do not have at least a basic grounding in the facts behind the JFK assassination. Without an appropriate historical context, the book can be a laborious read.

Don DeLillo himself is not for the faint of heart; some detractors have described his prose as "vacuous" and "devoid of anything beyond verbal sophistry". To a certain extent, that is true; DeLillo's fiction can sometimes seem bare on plotline and big on detail.

But above all, you need a rather focused outlook to read his work; concepts and words dash all over the place.

Still, a wonderful tome for a holiday, thought not my idea of a Concise Introduction to DeLillo. That title is best bestowed on Cosmopolis.

I give it a 7 out of 10.

Don DeLillo - Cosmopolis

A more mature, more modern Don DeLillo work, firmly entrenched in postmodernism. Though a far slender work than his usual plodders, in a sense, it is also, thematically, more varied; it does not fit the mould of his traditional conspiracy theorising that is prevalent in Underworld and Libra; somehow, it strikes you as his attempt to write a coming-of-age tale as an author, one that will be his Norwegian Wood, giving DeLillo a more public audience.

It is the tale of Eric Packer, a 28-year-old multi-billionare asset manager who drives across Manhattan for a haircut. Like James Joyce's Ulysses, it takes place in a single day; the theme of father-son separation is also addressed, as is highly sexed women. Throughout, he has random chance encounters with his wife; he loses huge amounts of money by betting against the yen, which suffers a demise parallelling hiw own downfall.

The book is fast-paced, quirky, flitting from event to event; in that sense, it is less reminiscent of a traditional DeLillo work, where tight plots are eschewed in favour of a more detailed exposition of ambient conditions. The book toys with language in various exciting ways; many a time, words and playful imagery tumble over each other rapidly in an effort to outshine each other.

A brilliant DeLillo work, and easily, his easiest, for the novice.

It gets a 9/10; yes I have been reading a host of good books lately, I must admit.

Rebecca Wells - Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

Wondering why I'm updating this site so often? I'm in Sabah, that is. Where the Internet connection is slow to a fault. This Internet connection is, as I pointed out to a certain hikaraseru, worse than having no Internet at all; at least, without Internet at home, you are guranteed not to have it, and can hence move on with your real life at large. With slow Internet, you are doomed to a lifetime of watching pages load, or paint dry, and my suspicions inform me that the latter is, at this point in time, infinitely preferable.

Which is why I resort to blogging. At least you don't have to wait for anything else to load to start typing.

But enough about my Internet connection. This book certainly ranks amongst one of my favourites of all time, and considering it has an all-female cast - hardly a group I would generally feel empathy for - that confers upon it extra credibility.

It tracks the progress of the four Ya-Yas - Vivi, Teensy, Necie and Caro. Siddalee, Vivi's daughter, a budding playwright, irks her mother by expressing opinions of her unhappy childhood to a reporter, who, sensing paydirt, sensationalises it. Vivi immediately commences internecine warfare with Siddalee, tearing up tickets to her play and refusing invites to her wedding.

As Sidda strives to reconcile with her mother, she enlists the help of her mother's erstwhile partners in crime, the irrepressible Ya-Yas, who, through a series of vivid stories about their antics growing up in the boisterous South of the 60s, slowly explain why Vivi turned out the way she did.

The strength of this novel is less its plotline than its narrative; Wells incisively describes their numerous moments of mischief, ranging from being arrested by the local policeman to swimming in the lake in their yearly summer camp, with so much joie du vivre, that one almost longs to be transported back to that golden age, when technology was far from the overwhelming social binding force it was back then, and there was still good clean fun to be had on streets and pavements that were far from lawless.

Each caper is described in breathtaking grandiosity; no antic is too vanishingly small, no bit of gossip escapes below the radar. Still, weighty issues are also dealt with in the intervening chapters - Sidda learns of her mother Vivi's difficult childhood with a bitter mother and the loss of the first great love of her life; we also see Vivi's journey to deal with her painful issues and become the mother she always wanted to be.

A family fable, spanning three generations, yet never coming off as didactic or plodding, it presents four greying women in their heydays, and, paradoxically, gives them that extra flourish, that va-va-voom, their ostensibly younger grown kids will never muster through their overworked, stress-ridden adult life.

For anyone with more than a passing interest in the zany ways of the American South, this book gets my pick as more than a biopic; it is an examination of the generation gap through three pairs of perpetually dancing eyes.

A 10/10; nothing less. Ya-Yas in Bloom will be reviewed soon!

Donna Tartt - The Little Friend

Part Huck Finn coming-of-age story, part psycho-thriller, Donna Tartt justifies her decade-long break from the writing trade by unleashing another magnum opus on the world. If you felt The Secret History was a little too top-heavy on the Greek philosophy, too arcane to be accessible, then The Little Friend will no doubt appeal more from a lay perspective.

In lieu of a strong plotline (which is something that, arguably, favours The Secret History as a better representation of Tartt's work), The Little Friend has strong characterisations to offer. Harriet and Hely, the quasi-protagonists turned gunslingers, have a Mark Twain feel to them; they ooze with personality, anchoring the disparate lives of the other characters together, who, at times, seem to solely serve as plot filler.

Throughout, the story tracks two parallel families, as Harriet slowly inches closer to finding out who killed her brother Robin 11 years ago; as the tale of the other family, helmed by Farish, a reformed mental patient, slowly converges, we see the tragic toll income inequality exacts on its victims.

The tale begins as a simple retributive mission; it slowly worms its way into the minds of two equally ruthless individuals, who, at the end of the novel, are close to indistinguishable in the level of manipulation they exact on their followers. Just like Hely, Harriet's loyal sidekick, Farish is well-endowned with grovelling family members; just like Hely, who ultimately sells her out for a pittance - almost, Farish is ultimately felled by one of his own kind.

I give this a 8.5 out of 10 - at 620 pages, it's not my idea of a ravishing holiday read, but with time, a little patience, and unlike A Secret History, no specialist knowledge of obscure Greek rituals, you will make it. Again, one of those books that is a convincing argument AGAINST the yearly Grisham/Clancy/Patterson machine output.

Haruki Murakami - The Elephant Vanishes

Murakami's rather oddball short story collections have a different tone from his novels. His novels can be a bit too much for the palate; but his short stories are minor masterpieces, no matter which field you're coming from. Each short story ends on a most unsatisfying note; admittedly, so do his novels, but the average reader has long quit attempting to understand the vagaries of the semblance of a story-line. His short stories, on the other hand, are short enough to warrant an extended span of attention, yet quirky enough to leave you hesistant to flip the page to the next one too soon.

This book will leave familiar shivers bristling down your spine; elements of the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle proliferate. The first story is apparently the inspiration behind said novel; and that infernal Noburu Wataya character materialises in half the short stories.

Each story chills the soul in its own unique way. Fans of Raymond Carver will immediately recognise the parallels; but Murakami turns 20/21st century urban fiction into his own plaything. Even short story titles reek of postmodernism; the Kangaroo Communique and the 100% Perfect Girl entice the reader, drawing him in to find out more.

He spins little quirks into each character; they routinely have chance encounters on similarly chance streets, they routinely miss each other and have lapses in communication. Carver's style is, however, more depressing, more morose, while Murakami is ready to portray his wonder at the incomprehensibility of the world.

A very good effort, and a perfect introduction, not just to Murakami's short stories, but even to the entire genre of postmodern short stories as a whole.

This book gets a perfect score, for being vintage Murakami.

Kiran Desai - The Inheritance of Loss

To be frank, the only reason I picked up this tome was its Booker Prize credentials. (And let's just say I have a rather perverse interest towards the Indian community at large. It's all history.) And I was sorely disappointed at the stereotypes prevalent throught. However, I will not let them detract from the overall level of detail, exquisite even, accorded to each character in the novel that, in my culturally tinted eyes, redeems it a little.

The tale tracks the passage of two characters - 16-year-old Sai, newly orphaned and living with her grandfather in the most remote of mountain passes, and her fledgling romance with her Nepalese tutor Gyan; and the contrasting fortunes of Biju, her grandfather's cook's son, ekeing out a meagre existence in the squalour of Manhattan's decrepit restaurants.

Throughout, issues of culture are tackled, but on, sincerely speaking, a very superficial note. The Indian illegal immigrant point is weakly driven home; we see no development of character of Biju, just a constant struggle to survive each day till he takes home his pay. Sai and Gyan's relationship is as wooden as wooden can be; it meanders along the tried-and-tested girl-meets-boy course, exhibiting no new tricks, no fancy plot twists, no emotional insurgencies, just a rehashing of a very well-worn plot.

Still, Kiran Desai describes well; that has to be admitted. Her characters, though rather flat as carbon copies of traditional stereotypes, are full of life, vivacity, and above all, action. Each action is embellished with detail, detail of how they move, walk, talk, cleverly paralleling the (again steretypical) television montage of India as a riot of colours and action. The cold and calm Indian border region is enlivened by little flourishes of description, rendering a multifaceted imagery of the stark scenery.

Once again, not a wise choice if what you seek is originality of cast or screenplay; but for sheer descriptive value, each character, each location, each circumstance, is played out with the note range of an Indian sitar.

I give it a 7 out of 10.

Louis de Bernieres - Senor Vivo and the Coca Lor

One of Louis de Bernieres's earlier works, before Captain Corelli's Mandolin catapulted him into instant notoriety - and the indignity of a subpar movie to boot - this novel reflects the writing characteristic of his salad days, where he was happier exploring the intricacies of relationships via a less conventional, more disjointed light.

A very porous narrative follows. The tale tracks an anti-coca warlord through a litany of dangerously tiring trials - from simple threats to the final disastrous deaths of his loved ones. All the way, the narrative eye flits from group to group, highlighting the diversity of issues afflicting those forced to live under the penumbra of the raging coca trade of Colombia.

The prose wittily skewers the multifarous problems of combating the coca trade - as the narrative develops, the continuity concurrently degenerates, skilfully exposing the extent of government corruption in the unravelling of any concerted effort to weed the coca lords out. The narrative style itself is an apt allegory of the futility of said efforts; the longer the government tries, the bolder the coca lords.

Throughout the book, the emphasis is not so much on plot as on character; it is almost as if the tale of the coca trade is best played out through the vignettes of each individual. Each character in the novel reflects a disparate group in Colombia, be it the petty government official frustrated because his hands are tied, the average citizen whose sole role throughout is to provide a social commentary, or the coca lords themselves, who hungrily play the system for what it is worth.

In typical de Bernieres fashion, especially in his earlier works, the humour is understated yet playful; each character is subject to a series of idiosyncracies that expose their fallacies in a slapstick fashion. You will enjoy this read, but let me warn you, if you are the Korean drama type, cherishing solid storyline over artistic license, you will be sorely let down.

I give it a 7.5 out of 10.

Haruki Murakami - Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World

One of Murakami's earlier works, and one heck of a definitive one. Murakami practically LAUNCHED his career in surrealist writing via this book (Norwegian Wood being more of a poppy introduction to the man himself), endearing himself to the masses who constantly seek quality fiction with more twists than the entire Harry Potter series.

The story involves 2 converging plotlines (though, to be fair, at the end they don't EVEN converge coherently), of the same people inhabiting 2 separate worlds. The blurb on the book jacket describes it as a "narrative particle accelerator"; there is a modicum of truth in that observation, the story flitting between a functionary in a physics laboratory and a man whose function in life is to read skulls for dreams.

Soon, the INKlings come into the picture, and it slowly assumes science fiction novel qualities; on the other hand, the many trysts, relationships, and breaking of human hearts endears the protagonists to the humanists out there. There is a crushing inevitability of progression throughout; you can see things inexorably accelerating to the conclusion, but for your life, you cannot see the plot twists as they come.

References to Western popular culture are arife; song titles jauntily come and go, and scenes occur in Denny's (a reference readily available in After Dark too); one is immediately struck by how Western this novel is, with its easy references to Western pulp fiction.

A beautiful book, indeed, combining elements from East and West, Oriental and Occidental, fantasy and reality. Indeed, the perfect introduction to Murakami's work, if you cannot stomach the 600-page monstrosity that the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle will prove to be.

Sophie's World - Jostein Gardneer

Finishing this book in a 3-day blitz prior to my arrival in KYUEM (to run their Induction Week) was possibly one of my most exhausting experiences so far. All things considered, given I had picked up the book on Friday night, and relentlessly punished my way through the book, you can see how this book MIGHT have changed my life.

Sophie receives a package through the post one day; despite her mother's ministrations to stay away from love letters, curiosity overcomes her, and she embarks on a mail-order philosophy course that will irrevocably change her fifteen-year-old world.

The book opens and ends with enigmas galore. Sophie seems to be part of a world created by a Major Albert for his daughter, Hilde; yet the boundaries are incongruous and, at times, arbitrarily shifted for story flow. Many a time, it gets progressively unclear who exists and who doesn't; but then, that is the self-evident doctrine of philosophy; that nothing is what it seems.

As Sophie and Hilde's worlds ineluctably collide, we see a concurrent drift in the philosophy exposed. Philosophy involves colliding and colluding theories; and they slowly melt into each other, as new philosophers expound further on existing theories.

In all, a wonderfully refreshing way to view philosophy. Worth a pick-me-up - and, in a shameless promo effort, only retailing in MPH for RM 23.

After Dark - Haruki Murakami

Another subtle masterpiece from the Master of Surrealism himself, Murakami; but hot on the metaphorical heels of Kafka on the Shore, some of you will certainly be a tad disappointed.

This tome tracks the motion (or lack thereof) of a group of Japanese through the wee hours of the morning. A central concept is that of transience. Everything floats, is translucent, or shimmers; the female protagonist's sister alternately moves from the world behind the camera to the world before it, and the two main characters spend the night floating restlessly from one conversation to another, whiling away the hours till daybreak.

Again, this book is less Murakami than usual; nothing actually happens throughout. Unlike the relentless energy of the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle or the mental flitting-between-scenes that occurs throughout Hard-Boiled Wonderland, this book is a serious exposition of the nature of sleep, and its proponents. People in the novel behave as if they were in a deep sleep, merely with their eyes open in a perfunctory manner; even their movements and thoughts are more languid than one would expect of the coffee-fueled nightstalker.

The language largely mirrors said intended effect; words, sentences, even concepts, are lazily drawn out. Murakami never scopes in to a particular event; he gives it a wide berth, describing it from all possible angles, embellishing it with detail, no doubt, but at the same time, losing vision, one sometimes feels.

On whole, a rather interesting, but ultimately, un-Murakami work. I give it a 7/10.

Book Review: A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

It was only when I picked up this book that I realized, 'Hey, I haven't been reading this genre for a HELL of a long time'. By 'this genre', of course I mean fantasy. There were times where I did wonder if I've outgrown this sort of thing, which is why this book has been on my shelf for a hell of a long time. Well, there's also the fact that this book is intimidatingly thick, and the fact that I had A-Levels to worry about, but since three people in my college have recommended it to me, I knew I would have to read it sooner or later.

Now I wish I'd only read it sooner.

You know, once you've read enough fantasy, you feel like you've seen everything. It's the cliche's, I tell you. All powerful thingamabob, good-natured hero, evil villain, odds stacked against the good guys, big war at the end, yeah, we've seen it all. But this book, this book is DELICIOUSLY GRAY. I've been told that it was partially inspired by the real life 'War of the Roses', my history knowledge on that one is close to nil, but that's okay, I love this story all the same.

Now um, about the word 'gray', what I mean is that the characters are (mostly) morally ambiguous. Of course, at the beginning of the story we will be mostly exposed to the 'good guys', and yes, this story still has them, but what drives the story forward is the scheming. Some characters may seem to be plain assholes at first sight, but then you'll eventually realize that they have their reasons for being that way. Of course, like all fantasy novels, it culminates in a war, but there are good and bad guys on both sides, all complete with character flaws that make them all so believably human that it makes you almost not notice that it takes a whopping amount of time out of your life (800 pages is a lot, last time I checked)

Right, so the story is about, for the most part, members of the family of the House of Stark. The novel is divided into chapters that focus on individual characters, switching from Eddard Stark, the ruling Lord of the House, Jon Snow, his bastard son, Catelyn, his wife, Bran Stark, his seven-year old crippled son, and Arya and Sansa, both of whom are his daughters. The story starts when Eddard is called by the current King of the realm to serve as his Hand, back at the main capital in the South (The House of Stark rules the North, icebound part of the realm). There, well, as you'd expect, there are already whispers of a conspiracy to kill the current King (who is his best friend), but there is also the mystery of who crippled his son Bran to worry about, and while the King's advisors and Lords bicker amongst themselves, teetering at the edge of a civil war, we are given glimpses of one Princess Daenerys, sister of the last King, (The current King, Robert Baratheon took the throne from her brother through war. She is currently in exile) as she herself rises to power in a land far from her own. And there is also the business of something darker brewing outside the Wall to the North (which is the northern boundary of the kingdom).

Right, so uh, that last paragraph may have been a bit hard to follow. Make no mistake, the book IS heavy on details, I won't lie to you on that. But not in a Tolkienish way. It's at least bearable enough and easy to follow. Even if you hate seeing lots of names, at one point you'll just realize that the story is just so damn good that you wouldn't really care. Did I also mention that there is a lack of 'magic' as a central theme? Sure, there is some magic, but its only hinted at as a background force. This story focuses on the people, the scheming, the politics. And it does it so well that you won't be able to guess what comes next no matter how much you've read in the past.

Die, Tolkien. This book should be put right up there as one of the all time greats.

(okay, so Tolkien IS dead -_-)

Perfectu scoreu..

Swahili for the Broken Hearted - Peter Moore

Picked up this book in a random fit of interest in a Birmingham bazaar; since then, this tome occupies pole position in my List of Books I Will Read Again without a bribe. I count many travel books among my inspirations for relentless travel; most of the Tintin books fit snugly in this category. Now, to that bookshelf, we welcome Peter Moore.

He wrote the book/planned the travel post-breakup with a long-term girlfriend; in his own words, he needed to "get away from it all" and rediscover singlehood without the trappings of society breathing down his neck. He, aptly, picked Africa, easily one of the most lawless lands known to Lonely Planet conoisseurs, to drown his sorrows; little did he know that the Sudanese embassy would eat him up all the way.

All throughout, he enters the mythical kingdom of Lesotho, still untouched by tourist litter; he gets a guided tour round a Jo'burg shantytown, easily the place with the highest proportion of shootings per capita; he tries to climb the highest mountain in Africa, to the consternation of everyone around him, not least his guide, who doesn't get his tip; and has a rollickin' fun time all the way.

Sure, I agree with other reviewers that the funny streak vanishes sometimes, but one has to bear in mind good travel writing is far and few between, and the bar has to be lowered accordingly. Bear in mind that most tourist sights have been worked and reworked by countless fledgling journalists trying to ape their way onto the colour pages of each broadsheet's Travel pullout. With focused competition like this, one simply cannot compare.

To his credit, his narrative takes in a LOT of educational soundbites - much is made of the history and culture of the places he travels through, and one gets the feeling this is less a George Bush than a Michael Moore travelogue. Many genuinely funny bits abound, mind you - his attempts to get that elusive Sudanese visa, with long distance phone calls from various (badly telecom-linked, may I add) parts of Africa back to a Sudanese embassy in Malawi that has already given up all hope on him, complete with respective abusive language, are some of the best bits of travel writing I have read all year.

Thumbs up, Peter Moore - you get that 9/10. This is one of the truly inspirational travel books of our time, mateys. (He's Australian, by the way, like nearly all good travellers are.)

Gridlock - Ben Elton

Wondering why I update this site lots now?

It's because I DO read a lot, silly.

At the Yorkshire Dales camp, this book was first to go; it has been taunting me in the flat kitchen for awhile now. Knowing Elton's humour pedigree (Blackadder ring a bell, anyone?), I was eager to pick this tome up. And a rollicking laugh I had, but at the same time, a few hard questions made an indelible mark.

It's a comic romp through London, and a LOT of the UK, describing how a disabled nuclear physicist and an equally disabled university student take on the insidiuous forces that want to lay down a comprehensive UK road network. Elton pits Digby, the Minister of Public Transport, who is secretly getting kickbacks from the Road Lobby (an insidious force throughout the novel), against the two protagonists, and Toff, a rhyme-wielding gangsta rappa turned full-blooded parking attendant.

The jokes get a little crass at times; he, sometimes, is unable to make that seamless transition from one-liner to full-blown 400-page gagfest. Otherwise, through the humour, there is ample fodder to mull over.

He exposes the extent of the road and oil lobby as a deciding factor impeding progress on public transport issues. The plans for a hydrogen car, Geoffrey the disabled nuclear physicist, maintain, cannot be used to aid the private transport industry; he intends to sell them to the public transport industry, but is dealt a fatal blow by Digby's surrogate henchmen before that.

Issues such as disability, the environmental damage of private transport, the influence of lobby groups on political decisions, discrimination and prejudice, are all handled deftly by Elton via humour. The novel ends with a victory for the private transport lobby; but Elton makes it sound so ironic, so unflatteringly blase, that the car lobby seems to have won a Pyrhhic victory.

Twists abound; the car chase at the end is 100 pages of pure laugh-out-loud-on-bus (to disgust of fellow commuters, no doubt.) Elton's gags seem a little contrived at times; he abandons all semblance of realism midway through the book, sending Deborah the wheelchair-bound student dodging lamp-posts and setting off wheelchair-operated explosives, all thanks to her physicist lover. Mental abuse is also inflicted throughout on the antagonists; lovely Digby suffers an inglorious political fall from grace midway after his sexuality dogs him in the midst of a major party policy speech.

Funny, no doubt; but raising issues that you would never imagine were linked.

I give it a 7.5/10.

Restless - William Boyd

With a close-to-zero posting record on this site, and the other inveterate readers all committing carbon chains to memory, I am here to fill the void.

Just call me Nicholas.

This book has been on my hitlist for a while now - any book with espionage and Award Winning on its jacket simultaneously sends me into paroxyms of delight. So here goes. I took it to the Yorkshire Dales on a camp, and by Day 2, was beginning to evade the manly wiles of football in a vainglorious effort to finish this book.

Sally Gilmartin, born Eva Delectorskaya, has a tale to tell - and that tale, of dodging Russian double agents, near-assassinations by moles in her own subspecialty of the British Secret Service, is ingeniously interwoven with the comparatively mundane account of her own daughter, slowly, but assiduously, putting the pieces together.

The opening chapters start almost innocuously - a death, a recruitment to the Secret Service; no surprises for what is after all an espionage novel. As the second chapter unfolds, we see Sally's daughter, Ruth, together with son Joachim, slowly at the receiving end of chapters of her mother's secret story. The sharp tones of espionage are lushly interwoven with the excruciating minutiae of Ruth's (in comparison) rather contrived woes with men (Hamid), her thesis, and her reworking of her relationship with her mother

But this novel is well played out. Twists ensue till the very end; no one is who they seem to be. A lot of internalisation occurs; we peer deep, deep into Eva's thought processes, realising how hard it can be to constantly morph identities.

Overall, a good thriller, and more than a good vacuous read on the beach.

I give it 8/10. Would have got more but for the sparing use of linguistic devices in the first few chapters, ensuring a draggy opening.