Reader's Block (David Markson)

Every now and then, we encounter books that can astound us because of its scope and sheer genius. I was fortunate to have read two such books in the past few months, and one of them was David Markson's modern classic Reader's Block.

Critics call Reader's Block an anti-novel. There is no spoken exchange here, no setting, no real conflict. What it is is a collection of facts about writers, painters, composers, a string of brief sentences about their lives (mostly their deaths), their sins, their beliefs, and their dementia. In fact, in this experimental novel, one of the most common facts you will encounter is who has committed suicide and who was anti-Semite (Carl Orff, Chopin, Roald Dahl, HG Wells -- and a few of my other favorite minds, apparently).

Here's a glimpse:
'Philip Larkin:
I wouldn't mind seeing China if I could come back the same day.

Kristallnacht.

Edna St. Vincent Millay died at the first light of morning after having sat up all night reading a new translation of the Aenid.

I have a narrative. But you will be put to it to find it.

None of Andrew Marvell's best poems was published in his lifetime.

The Queen of Pentacles, Reversed: Certain Evil, a suspicious Woman, a Woman justly regarded with Suspicion, Doubt, Mistrust.

Louis-Ferdinand Celine was an anti-Semite. (p78)'

But in between these facts is the sad life of Reader, who is writing a novel. As he constructs the world of Protagonist, giving him different names (Rasholnikov/Bloom/Mr Kurtz, among others) and placing him in different settings (a cemetery, the garage of an isolated beach house), so does he sift through a lifetime of data in his head. Very early on, the question is asked: 'How much of Reader's own circumstances or past would he in fact give to Protagonist in such a novel? (p12)' As we wade through the debris of Reader's mind along with him, looking for that promised narrative, we begin to construct our own image of him as well. We pick up on what he has chosen to reveal through these facts and ineluctably form perceptions about him.

Because of its fragmented nature, it seems fairly easy to consume Reader's Block in one sitting. I would in fact recommend it because I think you'd lose momentum if you decide to read it in small doses. But what wasn't easy for me was the intellectual digestion that came after. I'm the kind of reader who would look up names and words that are unfamiliar to me. I'll be honest and admit that I didn't look up every name or event listed in the book, but I did spend a good amount of time learning that Kristallnacht refers to a time when Jewish homes and shops in Germany were destroyed (the term means crystal night, or night of broken glass) and that the brilliant Roald Dahl did have his prejudices. But aside from that, what also wasn't easy was trying to see if I understood the book at all. The final paragraphs were an emotional and mental upheaval, perhaps as much of a climax as you can get from such a book, and the last word left me thinking hard about what I thought I actually 'got' from the whole reading experience.

I don't think I've ever read anything that has left me this way. Reader's Block truly shows that Mr Markson writes for writing's sake. He is unafraid to experiment with the medium, to push the envelope when it comes to how literature lets a story be told.

The Love We Share Without Knowing (Christopher Barzak)

'A Novel,' it says on the cover of Christopher Barzak’s The Love We Share Without Knowing but it can just as easily be mistaken for a collection of short stories. The book is created from seemingly disparate chapters, told from different perspectives, until you notice that a character in the first story will be mentioned in the next, and another character from that world will be in the succeeding one. Employing a style reminiscent of David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, Mr Barzak presents a richly-layered genre novel that delves into the alienating nature of human interaction set in modern-day Japan.

It took me a while to warm up to this. After reading the first two chapters, I was wondering why this was nominated for the 2009 Nebulas -- not because of any lack of literary value but because there was not enough in the first pages to convince me that this was a genre novel. By the third story, I had resolved to stop expecting a speculative fic to jump at me and simply tried to enjoy it. It was a good decision, because I found myself drawn to that story, "Sleeping Beauties," the most out of the ten included here. It unfolded with poetry that felt both heartbreaking and real. The disconnection that had seeped in while reading the early chapters -- somehow Said’s theories on Orientalism were hard to tune out then -- was finally gone. As "Sleeping Beauties" drew to a close it became apparent to me that I had to begin reconsidering the lyrical as literal, and what I first thought was 'non-genre' was actually deeply rooted in the fantastic.

That has to be one of the things I admire about Mr Barzak's writing. Chapter after chapter, he draws on very familiar emotions (loneliness, loss, isolation, indifference, even delusion) but situates them between the mundane and the otherworldly. Perhaps there is a certain quality inherent in the setting that allows these emotions to manifest themselves in strange ways, but I'd also like to think it is largely because of the author's skill. In the chapter "What They Don't Tell You," he moves further away on the speculative fic spectrum but loses none of the magical fluidity that has come to characterize the rest of the novel. The final chapters in particular are succinct and powerful. In fact, his style recalls three of my favorite authors (Haruki Murakami, Elizabeth Hand, and Kelly Link), echoing their ingenious way of letting the slipstream into our world, often with lingering results.

Sometimes I thought his prose struggled with its own sentimentality and other times I thought it was perfectly restrained. There was a chapter that I thought was superfluous, but this still did not take away from the entire reading experience. I am a convert. This is exactly the way I want to enjoy my genre fiction (any fiction for that matter), and there is no doubt in my mind that I will be looking forward to more of Mr Barzak's deeply moving prose.

The Name of the Wind (Patrick Rothfuss)

Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind has been bannered about with lofty terms such as 'instant classic' or 'the best fantasy book of the decade'. I may not readily agree with those praises but I will side with them in declaring that The Name of the Wind is certainly an engaging read, a well-drawn fantasy, and an impressive character study. Just not the best in recent years -- that's always such a subjective claim.

The Name of the Wind is an origin story. The subject in question is Kvothe, whose deeds as a magician, swordsman, and bard are only hinted at this early in the series, but who is now living a low-key existence as an innkeeper, his previous exploits carefully kept away from the simple folk who frequent his inn. But when he encounters a scholar known as The Chronicler, he is persuaded to share the truth behind his legendary life. In the next three days (one day for every book, I presume), Kvothe recounts his life as The Chronicler seeks to sort fact from fiction, revealing the hero's story from behind the scenes.

It was hard for me to get into it in the beginning. The prologue showed gravitas, which I often appreciate in a fantasy series, but Kvothe's new life felt uneventful. I was looking for the reasons that triggered the praises over Rothfuss' writing and couldn't find much to go on. It wasn't until Kvothe stepped foot into the University that the story gained a certain concreteness that truly hooked me.

I've always been intrigued by academia in a fantasy world. Kvothe's stay at the University reminded me a lot of the trials faced by Menolly at Harper Hall in Anne McCaffrey's Dragonsinger and by Talia in Mercedes Lackey's Arrows of the Queen, when she enters the Collegium to learn to become a Herald. The Name of the Wind is far from being derivative, but as it delves into Kvothe's everyday life at the University, it echoes the other books in their unhurried pace against extremely detailed and well-imagined academic settings. But Mr Rothfuss does more than echo. Kvothe is a larger-than-life character and it is at the University when he begins to inch away from tropes like the Innocent Farmboy (Kvothe's demeanor is anything but) or Orphan with a Destiny (since there seems to be no otherworldly hand of fate at play during the almost episodic nature of the flashback years). Readers will appreciate the way that the events of Kvothe's life are layered to set the stage for a larger narrative, which in this case appears to be headed towards the hero's fall.

Outside of Kvothe however, I can only pick at a few other characters who appealed to me; the rest were rather nondescript. It was easy to group them into the pro-Kvothe and the anti-Kvothe. The women of his life all tended be unrealistically lovely, something which was pointed out by his sidekick (how meta!), who is listening to the tale along with the Chronicler. Time will tell if this will be improved on in the later books, because I really think this robs the novel of a little of its grandeur.

Still, I will have to hand it to Mr Rothfuss for crafting a high fantasy story that I really enjoyed. Though it is far from being the best in my book, it still accounts for itself rather well.

Across the Universe (Beth Revis)

I picked up Beth Revis' Across the Universe on the strength of my fifteen-year old sister's recommendation. She knew I liked sci-fi and YA and thought that I might appreciate something like this. Solid premise. Lovely title. Rest = history.

In the simplest terms, Across the Universe is a sci-fi mystery. Sometime in the unknown future, a powerful international alliance called the Financial Resource Exchange has made space travel possible. Amy's parents -- her father a military man, her mother a scientist -- have been chosen for its first mission to make Centauri-Earth a habitable place. Along with Amy, they have been cryogenically frozen, traveling three hundred years through space in the Godspeed. But Amy is mysteriously unplugged from her cryo-chamber fifty years before their scheduled landing and wakes to a ship led by an autocrat named Eldest. Before she can find out the truth about her re-animation, one that nearly cost her her life, she must first learn to live within the ship's rules. But Godspeed has its own people, its own culture, its own morals. With the help of Eldest's successor Elder, she uncovers the truth behind Godspeed and Eldest and the fate of everyone on the ship.

The strength of novel lies in the way it boldly raises issues of freedom, race, and morality, among others. I find it very admirable that these find a place in the middle of an already engaging mystery. Similar to Paolo Bacigalupi's near-future scenarios that depict grim ecological consequences, the novel does not flinch from showing the darker side of good intentions. It is much more than the love story that the cover promises. In fact, I didn't find the romance essential to the story; I thought it would have been even more natural without it. I also thought that it tackles a little too much and that tying up all those loose ends resulted in a rather cramped denouement. I'm hopeful that in the succeeding novels, these issues can be better paced and further explored then.

I do have some misgivings. Ms Revis appears to have most of her work grounded in real science (or to be safe, reasonable conjecture on how science can develop years into the future). If it had been the science of a space opera like Star Wars, where interplanetary travel is a given and parsecs are a unit of time and not distance, then I probably wouldn't have the discomfort I have with it now. I think it's one thing to suspend disbelief about something that happens in a galaxy far, far away; it's quite another when a story grounds itself in something plausible and then misses the mark down the line.

There were tiny but very forgivable hiccups, like the mundane complaint I have on how Amy turned her bedroom lights on and off. She had to flick a switch and then speak to a computer program to make it work. I guess I just found the extraneous action off-putting because it didn't make a lot of sense for it to be developed in the first place. But I can set that aside. What really bothered me was an important piece of information revealed in the middle of the story. It's a pretty big spoiler so I won't discuss it here. Even though I'm not an expert I thought it was a rather significant flaw. If that had really happened, then Godspeed could have easily taken a better course of action than the one they ultimately did, which was presented as if it were the only solution available. I guess that really didn't sit well with me. But don't believe me; maybe I got the science all wrong.

Still, despite my apprehension over certain things, I believe Across the Universe is worth reading and recommending -- and not just to teenagers who would like a break from the dozens of paranormal romances on their shelves. There are a lot of other themes worth pursuing here and I really think it can inspire spirited discussions in classrooms everywhere. Like Amy, it is strong and fearless, and clearly echoes with the undying message of hope.

The Break.

It can’t already be June, it can’t already be Monday, that’s what they say, that’s what people keep muttering to themselves this morning as they cradle the last of the sleep in their coffee cups, for the precious moments in which they huddle in themselves before they must sign off their lives to something they don’t believe in, to something they think they cannot escape from. - Mariko Nagai, from Many are Called


A few weeks ago, I went on a trip with my best friends to visit our other best friends. It hasn't been easy for us; half the group in Singapore, the other half here. A married couple on each side of the ocean. A bachelorette to keep them company. But we make do. Long-distance calls. Quick weekends. Birthdays and weddings and holidays rolled into one. We exhaust ourselves on trips like this, walking everywhere, doing everything, but we are never really tired. We gossip well into the night and sleep in during the mornings. We snap pictures like crazy.


We find time for coffee, too, during those lazy mornings and in roadside nooks. There is always much to talk about. We exist here, in these pocket moments, always in each other's company. I miss them.

2008 Nebula Awards Showcase (Edited by Ben Bova)

Been on a Nebula kick for the past few months so when I saw this anthology at a local bookstore, I grabbed it immediately. I'm very grateful that a number of the recent Nebula nominees for short story are accessible online and getting to read an anthology like this really helps me to broaden my range. Two of the 2008 Nebula winners are also favorites of mine, Peter S. Beagle and Elizabeth Hand, so purchasing this was a doubly easy choice.

The anthology opens with Ms Hand's "Echo," a post-9/11 tale addressed to an unknown 'you,' (at least in the story; Ms Hand makes it clear in her brief introduction that this short story was inspired by her own epistolary relationship with a journalist). I've always wished that I wrote as well as Ms Hand does. She has a very fluid rhythm that is tempered with the right amount of emotion. "Echo" is followed by James Patrick Kelly's novella "Burn," which takes place on the planet Walden, where a colony of humans live a very tech-lite existence and have to deal with the aliens still living with them. Okay, I really did a bad job of summarizing that. What I liked about "Burn" is that the characters are very flawed and well-realized and reminds me a bit of how Ray Bradbury approaches the sci-fi elements in his short stories. My favorite of course is Mr Beagle's "Two Hearts," a novelette which continues (or ends?) his famous The Last Unicorn. I've read this before and re-reading it still manages to stir the same emotions I had during the first time. Mr Beagle convincingly uses the young girl Sooz' voice in narrating this story. I think you have to know the characters of The Last Unicorn well to fully appreciate this, though.

Also included in this collection are three science fiction poems (a first for me to read), nominee Eugene Mirabelli's "The Woman in Schrodinger's Wave Equation" (which I also enjoyed), Grand Master James Gunn's "The Listeners" (a sad yet lovely story for any SETI supporter -- yes, I have SETI@home), and an excerpt from Jack McDevitt's Seeker, the Nebula winner for best novel. This is really making me look forward to seeing and reading more Nebula anthologies available locally. I know there are more riches and depths waiting out there.

A Monster Calls (Patrick Ness)

This is not a review.

I first heard of Patrick Ness thanks to an old Amazon recommendation in 2009. Later, he was mentioned in an io9 article, which somehow legitimized my desire to find his books. In 2009, I found both The Knife of Never Letting Go and The Ask and the Answer in Bibliarch Glorietta, and the rest was history. I remember not even managing to climb the stairs of my lonely apartment because I was too engrossed in his books. I read them straight. I don't even remember fixing myself dinner. After the release of Monsters of Men last year, I had been eagerly awaiting his next title.

Then came A Monster Calls. Like I said earlier, this is not a review.

A Monster Calls was really the brainchild of author Siobhan Dowd. I am sorry to admit that I've never read anything she has written before this. But Ms Dowd passed on before she could finish it, and Mr Ness was left with the task. In the story, Conor comes face-to-face with a walking nightmare. And whether Conor likes it or not, the monster is there to tell him three tales -- and expects one in return. And what Conor has chosen to tell literally shook me. I cried. I had been in his shoes before. I knew that life. This is what I mean when I say this is not a review. I am not the right person to ask.

The spark which belonged to Ms Dowd was shaped by Mr Ness' way of writing powerful coming-of-age stories and Jim Kay's brilliantly dark illustrations. A Monster Calls knew, with its honest and simple prose, how to reveal a carefully layered story, one that is brimming with emotion that is neither put-on or pretentious. You have to be there, at 12.07, to know what I mean.

If you've faced sickness and death and loss and regret in your life, read it. This is not a review. This is an exhortation.

--
A very special thank you to Tina of One More Page for my lovely copy.

The Eye of Jade (Diane Wei Liang)

Joining the Whodunit Reading Challenge hosted by Gathering Books has really encouraged me to read more mysteries, even if my challenge is technically over. I tried to widen my reading range when it comes to the genre, and one of the authors I discovered is Diane Wei Liang, whose The Eye of Jade was quite satisfying -- but not exactly for its mystery.

Mei Wang is an independent woman who has resigned from her job at the Ministry of Public Security to be a private detective (or information consultant, since detectives are banned in China). Aside from dealing with the challenges of debt collection, she also struggles with her younger sister Lu, a TV personality who is prettier, richer, and clearly their mother's favorite. When her Uncle Chen, an old friend of her mother's, asks her to find a very important artifact, Mei doesn't hesitate. The search takes her to antique stores and train stations, to hutongs and gambling dens, and even into her family's past.

Ms Liang's book is a sharp look into modern-day China. It paints a grittier Beijing, one that exists beside the grand structures of the Forbidden City or the tourist-perfect scenery of the Summer Palace. But in Ms Liang's case, 'gritty' takes on an almost beautiful quality: detailed in some places (Tofu Flower Soup was now all over the floor, white jelly-like chunks wobbling on top of thick brown broth (p76); poetic in others ('...one moment a caked face with smudged lips, and another, with the street lamps abandoned behind them like used-up chopsticks, just a pair of glowing eyes (p153).'

She takes her time with the first chapters to establish Mei's character and the kind of life she has by giving the reader a clear image of Mei's agency, her family, and even her friends. The mystery is only really introduced in the sixth chapter but because the chapters are relatively short, I didn't feel that the introduction was dragging. But as I kept on reading, I began to realize that the pace is deliberate; the artifact is a McGuffin and the real mystery involves Mei's own family. Readers who are looking for a throwback to the hard-boiled detective mysteries of old might find The Eye of Jade more of a family drama, but I think that Ms Liang and Mei Wang add a delicate and exotic touch to create a series that successfully marries the old with the new.

Where to Buy: The Tintin Shop

Tucked among Pagoda Street's stalls of kitschy souvenirs and Asian memorabilia is this gem of the store that will make any fan exclaim, "Blistering Barnacles!" Yup, it's an official Tintin Store in Singapore.

I've loved Tintin ever since I started reading those big comic books at our grade school library. Lucky for me, two of my younger cousins also got into the series as they were growing up, and I had unlimited access to their library. So imagine my delight when I heard that an official store had opened in Singapore's Chinatown. It sounded like a strange location for a young Belgian reporter and his crew, but I was eager to go anyway.

Anyone coming from the MRT Exit A will find The Tintin Shop on her left. There's an al fresco cafe out front, with the orange and white chairs and tables that you can't miss. Inside, though, is where the magic waits.

A Tintin figure perched on the cashier
Tintin explosion: toys, keychains, magnets, mugs, postcards, journals...

and of course, books!
Some of the rarer Tintin titles were out of stock, but you won't hear me complaining, especially not after seeing all the other goodies in the store. I brought home a Snowy plushie as well as some other presents for my cousins (yup, the ones with the Tintin library).


What made the experience even more enjoyable was that the staff was very friendly and accommodating and they shared with me that the SG branch is only the seventh worldwide. Lucky for all of us fans in southeast Asia! I know that I'll definitely be back for more.

--
The Tintin Shop is located at 56 Pagoda Street, Chinatown, Singapore. Take the Chinatown MRT and exit at Exit A.

The Nightcap.

Always, we keep coming back for more. It's only been months since I last saw three of my closest friends but it really feels longer. So off we went to visit old friends, celebrate a birthday, shop our wallets dry, drink our hearts out. Only our idea of a nightcap is a warm pot of berry-flavored tea.

One more for the road.

UFO in Her Eyes (Xiaolu Guo)

A short visit to Singapore really put my reviews on hold, but after coming home with 17 books, I'm quite confident that I'll be back writing at a more regularly pace. I picked a few of my finds to keep me confident during the plane ride home, and one of them is Xiaolu Guo's UFO in Her Eyes. In the near future, a peasant woman from the tiny Chinese village of Silver Hill reports hearing a big noise and a spinning plate in the sky. She blacks out soon after and upon waking up, she discovers a bleeding foreigner whom she patches up in her cottage.

The story unfolds through reports and interviews made by the National Security and Intelligence Agency, as they go through key individuals and witnesses in Silver Hill. In the course of three years after the incident, the village goes through significant changes that affects the lives of all its inhabitants.

UFO in Her Eyes employed an easy and lighthearted approach to tackle the issues brought about by economic and technological change, especially to a rural agricultural village like Silver Hill. It is almost heartbreaking to see the changes all over the countryside (that include the demolition of the Hundred Arm trees that were once the pride of the village and the loss of trade of its simple and elderly folk), but because of the format that Ms Guo used, the book doesn't come across as pedantic or moralizing. It still effectively holds its prose as a mirror showing the consequences that a lack of insight can bring, not just to a rapidly developing nation like China but to others as well. The characters in UFO in Her Eyes seem real, despite encountering them only through reports. They come alive through their own words and through what others say (or don't say) about them. Kwok Yun, the peasant woman who encounters the mysterious craft, goes through a particularly moving journey through these reports, as Ms Guo employs an exposition that is both subtle and probing. One of my favorite characters is her grandfather, Kwok Zidong, whose sharp language and revelations move me in unexpected ways. For a book that I picked up merely on the strength of its appeal to me (UFO and China? Sold!), this was definitely one of my luckier purchases.

The Noodle Maker (Ma Jian)

What Ma Jian has created with The Noodle Maker is a collection of lifestyles and ideals that grew under China's Cultural Revolution, were affected by the years that followed the adoption of the Open Door Policy while still under the Party's all-seeing gaze, and survived the aftermath of the Tiananmen Square incident. Here, a professional writer and his friend the professional blood donor meet regularly to chat and dine. The professional writer has been charged with creating propaganda about a hero who embodies the Party's ideals when all he wants to do is to write about the people who intrigue him. So it is to the professional blood donor that he confesses and this serves as the framework for this collection of tales.

There was a kind of horror and disbelief that I experienced when I first read Ma Jian's Stick Out Your Tongue. He was not shocking just to be shocking; there was a sorrow that permeated his writing, one that truly drew me in. That shocking feeling was absent for me here in The Noodle Maker but whether it is deliberately gone or I am merely used to his style is still open to debate. The sorrow is still there though, in the lives of people who wish to be more. Here the tales are similarly stark, and even if the characters branch off in different directions (an actress with an unusual idea for a live performance, the young man who runs a private crematorium with an added service) they find their lives weaving in and out of each other.

The collection is filled with truths that can be disconcerting and uncomfortable, moments of sharp insight. One of my favorites is a conversation between the professional writer and the female novelist about young writers. The female novelist is bemoaning the new generation's shallowness, to which the professional writer counters, 'Perhaps a purer form of literature will emerge from their numb minds. They have no prejudices, no interest in politics. Their problems are purely personal(p86-87).' In their exchange, I feel bitterness and resentment, even at the professional writers' words, despite his obvious defense. He is merely stating fact: '[the female novelist's] time is already over(p87).' Here is a generation introduced to the Self after years of dealing with just the State.

There are really so many layers that one can uncover while reading The Noodle Maker. Ma Jian's writing makes even the most jarring images a source of reflection not just of the self, but also of the world that controls us.

The Native Star (MK Hobson)

The Native Star is the third 2010 Nebula-nominated novel that I've read, and with its combination of fantasy and historical romance, it's by far the most satisfying to my reading tastes. I'm not too sure how it will fare in the voting, but I'll definitely be rooting for it. It wasn't hard for me to love this story. Set in an alternate version of America in 1876, MK Hobson has created a world where Witches and Warlocks run academies, serve in the military, and for the most part, can respectably walk through cities and towns. Emily Edwards is a backwaters Witch in a very small lumber town out West, fashioning a love spell that she doesn't know is about to get her into a lot of trouble. Dreadnought Stanton is a know-it-all Institute-trained Warlock from New York assigned to educate Witches and Warlocks in the Sierra Nevadas (which in this case meant Emily and her adoptive Pap, and Emily's not too pleased about it). When one action-packed night finds a strange and powerful mineral embedded in Emily's hand, the unlikely couple must join forces to unlock its mysteries and keep it away from those who would wield its power for evil.

The tone of the story is geared towards romantic fantasy, so I have a feeling it will take an awfully-secure male fantasy fan to read through this and appreciate the sprawling epic adventure that it draws. And epic is the right term: the novel takes Emily and Stanton from California to Chicago to New York to Charleston in grand Americana fashion. They ride horses, trains, and flying machines. They visit gambling dens and whitewashed towns. They even hold seances to talk to an Indian wise woman in an acorn. With all the running around these two do, it seems like such a shame that male readers might be put off by the romance element. And there's plenty to cheer for when it comes to romance; fans will certainly enjoy the banter between Emily and Stanton, who have interesting back stories to lug around. Emily, who gets flashes of her early life with a mysterious mother she barely knew, is charming and enterprising enough as most protagonists go. But she is not entirely faultless; in fact, she has marked prejudices that keep her from being a true Mary-Sue character. Also intriguing for me are the antagonists. I think Ms Hobson has a knack for creating truly menacing and memorable villains in Captain Caul and Grimaldi. They gave me the same kind of chills that I had while reading about the Chaos Walking trilogy's Mayor Prentiss.

There were times when my interest wasn't as sustained as it had been in the beginning, but it's probably because of my ambivalence to the circumstances that have engaged the protagonists rather than a noticeable dip in action. But all things considered, The Native Star was an extremely satisfying and engaging read that struck just the right balance between two of my favorite genres. I couldn't put this one down.

Nocturnes (Kazuo Ishiguro)

There has always been a sharpness in Kazuo Ishiguro's work that makes me feel inadequate and ill-equipped to write a review. His Never Let Me Go is one of my favorite books of all time but I couldn't even begin to find the words to do it proper homage. I'm attempting anew with Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall.

In his sparse yet carefully-nuanced narrative style, Mr Ishiguro sketches five stories that revolve around the process of creation and definition through music. Maybe 'sketches' isn't the right word, as it connotes something rough and unfinished, but it does fit: we stumble across each of the narrators at a certain point in their lives, as they tell stories that to me have a lovely way of trailing off. He opens at a piazza in Italy and ends there as well, coming full circle but never telling the same story twice. The first, "Crooner," is about a guitarist hired by a once-famous standards singer to woo his wife. The wife reappears in another story, "Nocturne," while what could be the same piazza is seen again in the final "Cellists." Familiar elements echo through the stories, like the theme in a musical composition.

What I really admired about Nocturnes is how Mr Ishiguro weaves introspective pieces that made me reflect on what defines an artist. In the more humorous "Come Rain or Come Shine," the narrator confesses in a moment of candor, 'It's hard to know where to settle. What to settle to (p85).' In "Nocturne," the realization is a bit more in-your-face: the narrator is undergoing surgery to correct his imperfections and launch his career into the 'right' direction. I had meant to give Nocturnes as a present to a good friend but after reading it I wasn't sure if my friend would want something more aggressive when it comes to how events unfold. I'm still hesitating. But for me, each of these five stories know how to sit with you one quiet afternoon, pat your hand before they leave, and that's the only time you realize something had been happening to you all along.

The Summer.

All I'm missing is a hammock and my own private beach. In a few days, I'll be leaving our little home and heading to Manila and Singapore. Not too keen about spending the rest of the summer in the city's sweltering heat but the prospect of shopping and seeing old friends is enough to excite me. Orchard. Clarke Quay. Holland Village. Bugis. Chinatown. Sentosa. Marina Bay. Here I come.

Invisibility.

So I tried to be invisible. It's surprisingly possible. -Angela Chase, My So-Called Life

Been out sick for the past few days and couldn't even enjoy the luxury of reading. Then house guests descended, and not being a particular fan of them, I've taken to lurking in corners and empty rooms. I hope I'll be back to regular programming soon.

The Little Stranger (Sarah Waters)

I like scaring myself through film and literature. So when my friend lent me a stack of books which included Sarah Waters' Gothic The Little Stranger but reminded me to save it for last, I didn't listen at all. Its eerie mood beckoned to me more than the other books and I went with it willingly.

The Little Stranger is told through the eyes of Dr. Faraday, a country doctor who finds himself called to Hundreds Hall to treat a young servant. Dr. Faraday has been to Hundreds Hall before as a young boy treated to a rare meal at the sprawling estate while his mother helped serve food, and the state of ruin that the ancestral home is in astounds him. There he meets the once-wealthy Ayres -- the aging mother who still clings to the ways of her class and her children, level-headed spinster Caroline and young war-ravaged Roderick. Dr. Faraday is drawn back to Hundreds Hall and the Ayres and soon he realizes that the estate's secrets and mysteries have only begun to stir.

Ms Waters sets the tone for The Little Stranger in such a confident and polished manner that post-World War II Britain becomes the perfect backdrop for the struggles of a slowly declining genteel family. There seems an overall greyness just haunting each scene that seeps through the pages. The Ayres are not an easy family to relate to, but there is something in their fragile state and their complex relationships towards each other that moved me. But let's not forget that this book is a thriller. Ms Waters uses seemingly mundane things (like scratches and stains on the wall) and creates chilling circumstances that can send shivers down the spine of any imaginative reader.

I can go on and on about the strengths of this book but I will have to stop myself in case I reveal too much. At its heart, The Little Stranger is a mystery in the vein of Henry James' The Turn of the Screw and Wilkie Collins' The Woman in White, and it knows how to withhold its secrets until the final pages.

Classics for Pleasure (Michael Dirda)

I was very pleased when I found that my cousin left behind his copy of Michael Dirda's Classics for Pleasure. Mr Dirda is a Pulitzer Prize-winning critic for the Washington Post, and for a while now, I've had my eye on his collection of essays on book recommendations.

I'll be brief: If you're looking for a list that contains Shakespeare or Tolstoy or Dickens, then you should look elsewhere. Instead, Mr Dirda makes such an engaging and eloquent case for slightly-less-canon-but-nonetheless-essential-literary-reads that I am sorely tempted to go out and search for the works that I have not encountered yet (and there are a lot). Personally, I've been inspired to look for the epic Shanameh the Icelandic family sagas mentioned here. Mr Dirda's recommendations are arranged according to genre, from humor to epics to adventure, which makes reading the book quite smooth and seamless. For example: his category "The Way We Live Now" mentions a range that includes Petronius, Anton Chekov, José Maria Eça de Queiros and Zora Neale Hurston while his "Encyclopedic Visions" tackle Ovid, Ezra Pound, and Philip K Dick, among others. One moment you can be reading up on Georgette Heyer's Regency romances and then spend the next exploring HP Lovecraft's legacy to weird fiction. Mr Dirda's concise manner affords the reader a brief summary of what to expect from the featured authors, as well as occasional excerpts and the merits and the contributions of the work to the genre as a whole.

If there is anything that you will certainly take away from this, then it is the exciting compulsion to read every author and work that Mr Dirda recommends. Here is a massive TBR list for any reader. In the end, the pleasure is all ours.

The Sevenwaters Series (Juliet Marillier)

After reading Juliet Marillier's Heir to Sevenwaters last January, I didn't know how obsessed I would be over the rest of the series. Thanks to a friend who shared with me the other four books, I spent the last few days just reading in my room. The series is such a lovely marriage of fantasy and romance that it really refused to let me go. Given that, I thought it would be better to share my thoughts on them in just one post instead of separately.

One great thing about reading Ms Marillier's Sevenwaters books is how each one features a different heroine so if you come across one, you shouldn't hesitate about starting with it. Though I started with Clodagh in Heir, I wasn't spoiled too much when I read Daughter of the Forest, the first of the series. It is a retelling of The Six Swans, set in what would seem to be ancient Ireland. It takes a familiar tale and infuses it with courage, heartbreak, and a host of memorable characters, and fans of romantic fantasy will be swept away by the epic movement of this tale. Sorcha's love for her brothers (and theirs for her) was the fulcrum of this story and as much as I enjoyed the unfolding romance that began towards the middle of the novel, I found myself constantly wondering about her brothers. I've read retellings of this story before, but I don't think I ever really contemplated how changed a man can be after going through that experience. Ms Marillier's treatment of this process really gave me pause, and even reduced me to tears a few times.

Another series favorite is Son of the Shadows, and mostly because I think its protagonist Liadan is arguably the strongest of Ms Marillier's heroines. Liadan led me down unexpected roads -- I wasn't really sure where the story was going at times but don't take that the wrong way. Liadan, a second daughter, finds her place in the world through her steadfastness, her generosity, and her political acumen, and follows a path 'outside of the pattern'. Friend and fellow book blogger Chachic once told me she enjoyed the first two books and I definitely agree. I love how Ms Marillier ensures that her characters are strong, capable women even if they don't vanquish evildoers with flaming swords. Even Fainne from Child of the Prophecy had her strengths, although I must admit that out of all the five books, this was the one I enjoyed least.

The last two books revolve around two of Liadan's nieces, Clodagh in Heir to Sevenwaters and Sibeal in Seer of Sevenwaters. Even from a young age, Sibeal has known that she is being called to be a druid. But during the summer before she has to make her vows, her mentor sends her to the warrior community of Inis Eala where she meets the shipwrecked Felix and a dangerous mission threatens to take her away from her quiet life. I am glad that I ended with Seer instead of Child because I enjoyed Sibeal and her adventures far better than I did Fainne's journey. In its own way, each Sevenwaters story has spurred me to look for more. Unfortunately, I seem to have come to the end. Still, I harbor the faintest of hopes that Ms Marillier will continue to write about Sevenwaters. As a new convert, I feel that there is so much more to explore.

The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag (Alan Bradley)

Flavia de Luce is now one of my favorite detectives: witty, unflappable, a force of nature. We met last year through Alan Bradley's The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie and since then I've been eager to be part of her new adventures. Good thing it wasn't such a long wait until The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag. In this mystery, Flavia (always at the right place at the right time) meets famous puppeteer Rupert Porson, of the BBC's children show The Magic Kingdom, and his lover and assistant Nialla. Stranded temporarily at Bishop's Lacey, Porson and Nialla are entreated by the vicar to put on a show at the parish hall with Flavia as their helper. But tragedy befalls and it takes all of Flavia's abilities -- from her genius at chemistry to her amazing skills at snooping and deduction -- to get to the bottom of this murder.

One of my favorite things about reading Mr Bradley's books is how each one manages to take me to the fifties through the eyes of a small community like Bishop's Lacey by using accessible language. Flavia lives with her rather unique family in an old, sprawling mansion called Buckshaw, and while that would seem like a rather sheltered upbringing, it is Flavia's tendency to poke her nose in other people's business that allows other people's fears, troubles, and insecurities to come to the surface. Mr Bradley does a fine job of capturing this slice of life element and situate it clearly in post-war England. A highlight in The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag is the beginnings of television and how even in its early years it captures an era on the precipice of change.

But no matter how skilled a mystery writer is in capturing the times, he will ineluctably be judged by his ability to write a convincing whodunit. In that aspect, Mr Bradley and Flavia pass with flying colors. The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag employs a lot of skillful misdirection but is able to conclude things in a clean and concise manner. The presence of Rupert Porson at Bishop's Lacey may seem random, but as in many well-written mysteries, there is more here than meets the eye. Flavia once again calls on her chemical expertise to solve this new murder but in the end it is her powers of deduction and observation that save the day. There are lovely character sketches here and there that continue to draw me into Flavia's world (not just the thrilling adventure she has each time a mystery comes in) and again, I'll be anticipating her next escapade.

NOTE: This review is done in response to the Whodunit Reading Challenge hosted by Mary, Myra, and Fats at Gathering Books. This is actually the review that qualifies me to be a Level 3 Mythic Crime Buster with a total of six mysteries read. Challenge technically over, but I think I'll keep on until I've done eight books.