Letters From Home

Letters From Home by Kristina McMorris

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I can be such a book snob sometimes.

I don't know what's gotten into me, but before I picked up Letters From Home, there were thoughts forming in my head, which eventually stuck with me through the first pages of the book. Maybe it was instinct or just one of my mood swings.

But seriously though, I can't remember what happened in the first chapters. Unless I give my memory some time to settle down.

I remembered plowing through the words, fighting an upstream battle.
I also remembered sucking in deep breaths, closing my eyes and smiling, and crying my heart out, in all the right moments.

Liz's character was a bit pale for me, despite of how the novel kinda revolved around her. I expected more from her and, okay, the other characters too. What stood out in the novel was the war and how it changes lives, changes us in ways we don't even know we can, and how powerful a few words can affect us. It reminded me of I Had Seen Castles, but somewhat more hopeful than that.

Letters in those days was there life line, the parcel of hope they cling to when the world is falling away, when life is draining at their feet. It guided them back home.

Although I was not impressed with the letters Liz wrote - pales in comparison to the letters from Jojo Moyes' The Last Letter From Your Lover, or maybe the writers poured out their throes of passion in them, different from Liz & Morgan's letter.

Still, it was heartbreaking but beautifully crafted to reach just the right ending, for Liz, for Betty, for Julia, for Morgan and for Charlie.




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This feeling

Have you ever had this feeling when you realize one day you're wasting away sitting here, while the Earth revolves around the sun - minutes, hours, days, months go by - still nothing ever changed but a lot did in so many ways?

Have you ever had this overwhelming lust for the world around you? To watch the stars, the sunset, the waves? To hear your own voice and his weaving through the wind as you drive away? To feel weightless, to feel gravity? To taste his mouth, his skin and the flavors of the world?

Have you ever felt so carefree and unburdened that you lost the sense of it all?

Have you ever woken up to a day just like any other, and feel limited, caged, rooted, that you just want to shout from the top of your lungs until you're out of breath?

Have you ever just wanted to do something, anything, everything, but... you never took the first step?

Have you ever had this feeling in the pit of your stomach because you can’t find the answers, you’re not sure where you are, but somehow you know, one day, you’re gonna get there, wherever you’re supposed to be?

Guilty pleasure

Oh no. What have I done.

I looked down. At the pen and paper in my hands.

Yet another list of book titles drawled out in my lazy script. Dozens of titles and authors lined up in pieces of paper. No, nothing harmless about that.

Where are the other lists? Lost in my black hole of a bag, lost in the folds of my notebook, lost in the depths of my over-thinking mind.

It's a mannerism, a coping mechanism, above all, a guilty pleasure.

The OCD in me is itching to tick off one book after the other because... that's what lists are for! I cross out one, two if I'm lucky, but never did I follow through.

But my carefree spirit says otherwise and tells me to just give in to my bibliophilic instincts. Let it take over me and, without so much as a second glance, I will know which trove is destined for me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I feel like a hopeless case. All I have are endless titles and names rather than pulpy paperbacks. I'm swimming around in an ocean of lists.

Sometimes I think I'm more frustrated with the fact that I can't have all the books I want soon enough.

In the words of Matthew J. Bruccoli, scholar and F. Scott Fitzgerald biographer : "You don't buy books as an investment. You buy them because it gives you pleasure to read them, to touch them... to see them on shelves."

Is there anyone out there who feels the same way?

Before Ever After

Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Eggs.

Whether its well done, sunny side up, creamy scrambled eggs, by the time I'm finished with this book, I was having egg withdrawals.

You guessed it. Before Ever After revolves around eggs which I think, for sometime, was pretty out of the box. That and the egg hunt tour around Europe.

But then, it's what gave the novel a unique charm. I've always been in love with Europe. The cobbled streets lit by the warm glow of lamps. The brick houses and the castles. The history and culture that resonates even now.

For someone who can only dream about going to Europe, I felt nostalgic. Samantha Sotto takes you through Europe's streets with lush and vivid prose, with unexpected twists and turns.

Though it dragged at first and there were many questions left unanswered, what really set Before Ever After above other novels is Sotto's unrivaled take on immortality.

She defied the laws of fiction writing by beginning the past at the end and weaving it with the unfolding present(whew!).

After I read this book, I had a different perspective on eggs, basilisks, and endings.

PS. I'm extremely proud for this beautiful Pinay and her ode to the Philippines!

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Separation anxiety

When I look at my book shelf, all I see is: SEPARATION ANXIETY. The missing titles among the row of books is that obvious I could actually see those two words.

It does feel good to share shove my books into my friends hands. For them to read it and like it is another thing to boost my bibliophilic ego.

But I do miss my books after a while and it worries me that they might never come back. I fervently hope not. That would break me.

My books are important to me. They each carry a piece of me - a memory, a place, a time, a person. They've been with me through a certain point in my life and I clung to them for my dear life.

Maybe one day I could let them go, set them free. Pieces of me in the hundred paperbacks, millions of words, out there in the universe.

Now they're selfishly mine. Living pieces of me scattered within a 300 mile-radius, maybe?

Top New Year's resolution: Read more. Write more (other than work).

You think when you get older you'd read more classics, more philosophical works, more non-fiction. Genres  beyond your years because at the age of 21, you want to prove how intelligent and wide reader you are. (There's just so many 20 books you need to read in your 20s list, 30 books in your 30s, I plan to read some of it) But instead, you get stuck in Young Adult and you're not even ashamed. Way better than getting caught reading 50 Shades of Grey in public, or even in your e-reader cause nosy people can still read the large font, you guys.

Apologies

"What fell to her lot was not the burden but the unbearable lightness of being." - Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Someday, I will get this permanently inked on my skin. Guess not today. 

This sums up 2012 for me and even when the new year came around, I still feel adrift. 

I want to be more, want to be here, want to leave footprints, want to know where I'm going, or atleast, keep going wherever I'm headed. 

I'm taking it one day at a time, one book at a time. 

Somewhere in the pages, I'll find a word, a phrase that would hold me down.

Apologies for not being here.

October's come and gone

Hello from a month-long hiatus!

I miss it here, though to tell the truth, I shun this corner out of hopelessness. There really comes a time in your life that you fail to see the point in everything. So you blindly trudge on and bump into things and you end up with a couple of bruises.

The past month has been a philosophical roller coaster ride. I spent weeks of introspection and lost thousands of brain cells in the process. Just when I was clearly losing a battle with myself, someone I barely know looks me in the eye and says, no - exclaims "great pretender!", with a finger pointing at me of course. I have nothing against mind-reading and mind-readers, but that accusation knocked me off, like I was found guilty without due process in court. Psychologists or whatever you call them - not even a real one! - are not supposed to judge you or persecute you. I guess I was more bothered by the fact that I was bothered at all.

The thing is when I asked someone who really knows me if I was guilty, he said yes, and I accepted it without question. I realized that while some people are out to diminish you, there are people who accept you for your being, your flaws, your passion, that you learn not to be so hard on yourself. That I am very much appreciated. I'm glad someone found me before I fade away.

Do you know the feeling when you're reading a book and it becomes your perspective on life? I found solace in Milan Kundera's words:

"What fell to her lot was not the burden but the unbearable lightness of being." 

"The absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant." - The Unbearable Lightness of Being

September's slut

We sit through days willing the Earth to rotate faster, wishing Mondays turn to Fridays, to skip the tawdry parts that have become essential in our lives. Still, we look back and realize how fast time flies. Days that dragged on now seemed weightless.

I barely had enough time to cozy up with September when it's about to fold into itself again until next year. My relationship with September is more than a dodgy one night stand - though it was great. We went on a date at The Night Circus, gave me a bouquet of orange Hemingways, had a bottle of Bradbury talking about What happened to Anna K. all night. As we lay side by side, Maugham playing softly on the background, I felt The Unbearable Lightness of Being. ;)

September books from MIBF, Booksale & J. <3

Lust

Having a day at your own pace. Being able to read at breakfast, a book on your left hand, the fork on the other, and taking little sips of coffee in between. I live for these things. When I finally get out of bed after hitting snooze three times on a Monday morning, it's what I look forward to. We can't help but live for the weekends. We drift through days.

I love my work - don't get me wrong - even if sometimes I feel like I'm being thrown at the open sea, leaving me to swim my way back to shore. I can barely keep my head above the water, but I keep on treading. At the end of the day, when my toes finally feel the smooth sand, there's nothing left to do but wade to dry land. And it's fulfilling, to save yourself.

Then I'm left alone with my mind for one and a half hour ride home. I look forward to those times, when I can watch the streetlights moving in a constant stream of light. Look at people's shadowed faces, bowed heads swaying almost rhythmically to the moving car. Once, I buried my nose up a book, only stopping on the short distance between streetlamps, enveloping the car in darkness. Most times, thoughts pour in. Memories. Dreams. Life. It becomes the air I breathe, filling me up before I breathe them back to the world in quiet whispers.

The thing is, I don't know what I'm talking about. When I wrote (typed) the first sentences, I don't know where I'm headed. I weaved words one after the other and it's such a delicious feeling to be doing so. Not constructing sentences, but writing them, flowing from my fingertips. Exhaling words into the world.

I'm not sure if I made any sense. I just wanted to write, to create, to appreciate words. I find I want a lot of things, turning me into a million pieces. I want to move, want to be here and a hundred places all out once. To see the fiery colors of autumn. To fold in to myself. To feel lost then found. I want to bite into the world. I want the imprints of the world on my skin. To not feel limited but infinite.

"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited." - Slyvia Plath

A bibliophile's dream

Every bibliophile's dream is to have a room full of books - four walls covered from floor to ceiling - like Karl Lagerfeld's, but most of us don't run House of Chanel. Though I'm lusting over his library, I prefer cozy sunlit spaces with a comfy couch or a wing chair for a reading room-slash-home library. Looking at books, and spaces for books, over at weheartit makes me happy as a feather floating in the breeze.

Curling up in bed with a good book tastes delicious just by thinking it, especially when it's drizzling.

Still, nothing beats having a room you can shut the world out and lose yourself in another. It'll be your sanctuary, a shrine for books and reading, your two-cents worth of escape - sweet all the same.

Until then, I'll be daydreaming. Or dreaming, given the hour.

PS. Every bibliophile also dreams to visit Shakespeare & Co in Paris and stay a week or two at the apartment above and help in the bookstore by day. Maybe I'll put that in another post.

Goodnight!

Book event: MIBF 2012

As promised, I brought my little brother to the Manila International Book Fair at the Mall of Asia SMX Convention Center last Saturday. We're the two bookworms in the family, thought it was only fitting that we go. It's our first time so imagine our faces when we entered this huge hall full of books! The weekend crowd had not come in yet but there were already lot of people by 11. Bought the books we mostly wanted before going out to grab some lunch. Went around the department store cause they're having a sale. When we came back at the book fair at 4pm, the place was packed!

A bit disappointed that I didn't get all the books on my list. The Unbearable Lightness of Being and the book my brother was looking for was out of stock at the Fully Booked booth. I had to get The Night Circus at the mall branch. But thank the book gods for the 20% discount!

Our MIBF loot!

Just wanna hibernate with these.

What my 9-year old brother likes to read.

I was mostly overwhelmed by all the books and the people that I didn't got in my zone. My brother is elated and he's almost finished reading all his books. Didn't get to take photos of the event cause I have a sucky phone camera. Today's the last day of the book fair. Heard there were more freebies! Can't wait for next year!

Gatsby's Girl

Gatsby's Girl by Caroline Preston

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I don't know how to review a book. Let's get that out of the way.

I simply put into words what I felt, thought and tasted. Though sometimes I could be harsh when I'm being a book snob, which unfortunately I am.

Gatsby's Girl is a sad, nostalgic love story. It's heartbreaking yet illuminated. The way the characters come alive, the way Ginevra gets under your skin, Scott - blonde, melodramatic, eccentric - everywhere in the background, and Julian. Oh Julian. Julian was gone too soon, but I can still taste his sweetness in my mouth.

The way Ginevra and Scott's lives take their own course away from each other but not quite. There was always a fleeting thought between them. And the dim glow of an era I've always wanted to live in.

Truly a tour de force. When I read the historical notes at the end, I was confused that this book was not what really happened to Ginevra and Scott. This book swept me in.

"Love stories make me cry, even when they turn out happily. Because the best part has come to and." Maybe I cried because I was afraid that this might be the best part of my romance with Scott - an illicit pair hiding in a dark theater, our upturned faces bathed in stage light.

He reached over and tenderly wiped each eye with his thumb. "What nonsense. Why can't we live the best parts over and over again?"




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1 more week til Manila International Book Fair! 1 more week til I get my hands on a new book/s! 1 week is too long :(

33rd MIBF 2012

One of the things I look forward to in September? The Manila International Book Fair 2012!

Been hearing about this but never actually been to one. Will definitely make it a point to come this year. I'm already saving up! 

September Spill

Can't believe it's already September, which means my birthday privilege is up! Sadly running out of ideas to blog about. I'm all over the place lately, with work, random late nigh hangouts with friends (on a weekday!), & the ever distracting internet! Thankful for the weekend so I can curl up with a good book. I'm already halfway through Gatsby's Girl. Weird that I didn't have time to read during the past two long weekends. I bought my little brother The Adventures of Tom Sawyer because he's been spending too much time playing Minecraft and it's about time he read classics, even if it's an abridged version. Fascinated about this Tumblr site called Bookface where you can submit photos of your face and your book/s! Submitted two photos - the first and last one. We're famous, yey! 

My friends left a huge gap on my bookshelf when they came over for my birthday. I think I was still hungover when I stacked 10 on my arms and handed them 2-3 each to bring home. I can't help smiling whenever I remember their faces like children given free candies. And it warms my heart to know that they loved it as much as I do!

It's always been my dream to go on an all out book shopping, to just grab everything on my list! Wish I had the money for that. But for now I'm alright with getting my monthly fix or digging books at Booksale. :)

PS. Oh, and I found this nifty post about e-readers that made me drool!

Book find: Gatsby's Girl

Whenever I'm at Booksale, I get lost in my own little world.

The place is like a treasure trove full of books. The thrill of not knowing what you'll find, the calming effect of aimlessly reading titles after titles, the feel of books, the simple pleasure of unearthing a book you never thought you'd wanted or find. I could go on and on for days just tasting unfamiliar titles on my lips. I'd read every last one, row after row, and tuck them back in place. I blame a minor OCD to leave no book unturned though it's also sort of a craving you just have to satisfy.

I picked up four good books (based on my hunch, and okay, the synopsis) before deciding to get Gatsby's Girl by Caroline Preston.

Though I don't get lucky every time I visit. But it's been a long time so I think the book gods put the odds in my favor.

Sad the long weekend's over.. but we'll be having another holiday next week. And it's my birthday!!!

M-day Wish List

I'm fond of making wish lists that I don't, in some weird way, stick to. I always end up getting things not on my list - afters hours of wandering in bookstores, some books just show themselves to me at the last minute - that I never tick off anything. These few books (from a three page-list) are way up on my list! Thinking which one I should get for myself (IF I have moolah).

The Time in Between by Maria Duenas
A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
The Paris Wife by Paula McLain
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt by Caroline Preston
The Soldier's Wife by Margaret Leroy
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Between the Lines by Jodi Picoult & Samantha Van Leer
The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene
The Elements of Style by William Strunk & E.B. White
Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury

It's a long weekend at MNL. Catching up on my reading. Will visit Booksale soon!

Stuck

When writers can't write it's called writer's block. But when a reader just can't turn the page..

I've been putting off reading for weeks. I have excuses: work, sleep, things. There so much going on in my mind that I'm living in it - I'm putting everything real on hold. You know that feeling of not wanting to read on just because you don't have the energy to let it sink in? The book is a world of its own but whenever I open it I absorb it, instead of the other way around. Isn't it supposed to be an escape? You get sucked in, free falling. I don't want to put the blame on the book, it's not fair. I want to read. I need to read. Reading is a part of me, creeping into my fingertips until the words blink up at me. I breathe in words so I can breathe them back to the world.

Where's my lust for reading?

Can't help but wonder whether this has something to do with my tensed neck/shoulder/back muscles - not knowing why I don't read is so bothersome it's taking a toll on my body.

PS. I'm currently "reading" 22 Britannia Road by Amanda Hodgkinson

Best YA Novels

NPR announced the winners of the 100 Best-Ever Teen Novels last August 7. See the full list of finalists here.

Find out if you've read enough and update your to-read list!
Bold ones, I've read.
Underlined, added to my reading list.

1. Harry Potter (series), by J.K. Rowling
2. The Hunger Games (series), by Suzanne Collins
3. To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
4. The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green
5. The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien
6. The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger
7. The Lord of the Rings (series), by J.R.R. Tolkien
8. Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury
9. Looking for Alaska, by John Green
10. The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak
11. The Giver (series), by Lois Lowry
12. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (series), by Douglas Adams
13. The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton
14. Anne of Green Gables (series), by Lucy Maud Montgomery
15. His Dark Materials (series), by Philip Pullman
16. The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky
17. The Princess Bride, by William Golding
18. Lord of the Flies, by William Golding
19. Divergent (series), by Veronica Roth
20. Paper Towns, by John Green
21. The Mortal Instruments (series), by Cassandra Clare
22. An Abundance of Katherines, by John Green
23. Flowers for Algernon, by Daniel Keyes
24. Thirteen Reasons Why, by Jay Asher
25. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, by Mark Haddon
26. Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson
27. Twilight (series), by Stephenie Meyer
28. Uglies (series), by Scott Westerfeld
29. The Infernal Devices (series), by Cassandra Clare
30. Tuck Everlasting, by Natalie Babbitt
31. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie
32. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (series), by Anne Brashares
33. The Call of the Wild, by Jack London
34. Will Grayson, Will Grayson, by John Green, David Levithan
35. Go Ask Alice, by Anonymous
36. Howl's Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones
37. Stargirl, by Jerry Spinelli
38. A Separate Peace, by John Knowles3
9. Vampire Academy (series), by Richelle Mead
40. Abhorsen Trilogy / Old Kingdom Trilogy (series), by Garth Nix
41. Dune, by Frank Herbert
42. Discworld / Tiffany Aching (series), by Terry Pratchett
43. My Sister's Keeper, by Jodi Picoult
44. The Dark is Rising (series), by Susan Cooper
45. Graceling (series), Kristin Cashore
46. Forever..., by Judy Blume
47. Earthsea (series), by Ursula K. Le Guin
48. Inheritance Cycle (series), by Christopher Paolini
49. The Princess Diaries (series), by Meg Cabot
50. The Song of the Lioness (series), by Tamora Pierce
51. Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson
52. Delirium (series), by Lauren Oliver
53. Anna and the French Kiss, by Stephanie Perkins
54. Hush, Hush Saga (series), by Becca Fitzpatrick
55. 13 Little Blue Envelopes, by Maureen Johnson
56. It's Kind of a Funny Story, by Ned Vizzini
57. The Gemma Doyle Trilogy (series), by Libba Bray
58. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, by Ransom Riggs
59. The House on Mango Street, by Sandra Cisneros
60. Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury
61. The Chocolate War, by Robert Cormier
62. Just Listen, by Sarah Dessen
63. A Ring of Endless Light, by Madeleine L'Engle
64. The Truth About Forever, by Sarah Dessen
65. The Bartimaeus Trilogy (series), by Jonathan Stroud
66. Bloodlines (series), by Richelle Mead
67. Fallen (series), by Lauren Kate
68. House of Night (series), by P.C. Cast, Kristin Cast
69. I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith
70. Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlsit, by Rachel Cohn, David Levithan
71. Before I Fall, by Lauren Oliver
72. Unwind, by Neal Shusterman
73. The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle
74. The Maze Runner Trilogy (series), by James Dashner
75. If I Stay, by Gayle Forman
76. The Blue Sword, by Robin McKinley
77. Crank (series), by Ellen Hopkins
78. Matched (series), by Allie Condie
79. Gallagher Girls (series), by Ally Carter
80. The Goose Girl, by Shannon Hale
81. Daughter of the Lioness / Tricksters (series), by Tamora Pierce
82. I Am the Messenger, by Markus Zusak
83. The Immortals (series), by Tamora Pierce
84. The Enchanted Forest Chronicles (series), by Patricia C. Wrede
85. Chaos Walking (series), by Patrick Ness
86. Circle of Magic (series), by Tamora Pierce
87. Daughter of Smoke & Bone, by Laini Taylor
88. Feed, by M.T. Anderson
89. Weetzie Bat (series), by Francesca Lia Block
90. Along for the Ride, by Sarah Dessen
91. Confessions of Georgia Nicolson (series), by Louise Rennison
92. Leviathan (series), by Scott Westerfeld
93. The House of the Scorpion, by Scott Westerfeld
94. The Chronicles of Chrestomanci (series), by Diana Wynne Jones
95. The Lullaby, by Sarah Dessen
96. Gone (series), by Michael Grant
97. The Shiver Trilogy (series), by Maggie Stiefvater
98. The Hero and the Crown, by Robin McKinley
99. Wintergirls, by Laurie Halse Anderson
100. Betsy-Tacy Books (series), by Maud Hart Lovelace 

Excuse my 'Rules of Civility' withdrawals

Grand Central Station circa 1935-1941/Courtesy NYC Municipal Archives

“In our twenties, when there is still so much time ahead of us, time that seems ample for a hundred indecisions, for a hundred visions and revisions—we draw a card, and we must decide right then and there whether to keep that card and discard the next, or discard the first card and keep the second. And before we know it, the deck has been played out and the decisions we have just made will shape our lives for decades to come.”

“It is a lovely oddity of human nature that a person is more inclined to interrupt two people in conversation than one person alone with a book.”

“If we only fell in love with people who were perfect for us...then there wouldn't be so much fuss about love in the first place.”

“Anyone who has ridden the subway twice a day to earn their bread knows how it goes: When you board, you exhibit the same persona you use with your colleagues and acquaintances. You've carried it through the turnstile and past the sliding doors, so that your fellow passengers can tell who you are - cocky or cautious, amorous or indifferent, loaded or on the dole. But you find yourself a seat and the train gets under way; it comes to one station and then another; people get off and others get on. And under the influence of the cradlelike rocking of the train, your carefully crafted persona begins to slip away. The super-ego dissolves as your mind begins to wander aimlessly over your cares and your dreams; or better yet, it drifts into ambient hypnosis, where even cares and dreams recede and the peaceful silence of the cosmos pervades.”

“I've come to realize that however blue my circumstances, if after finishing a chapter of a Dickens novel I feel a miss-my-stop-on-the-train sort of compulsion to read on, then everything is probably going to be just fine.”

“Whatever setbacks he had faced in his life, he said, however daunting or dispiriting the unfolding of events, he always knew that he would make it through, as long as when he woke in the morning he was looking forward to his first cup of coffee."

“That's the problem with living in New York. You've got no New York to run away to.”

Inspiring. Gad, I adore Amor Towles.