Reading Should Be a Profession.

A Tumblr companion to my book blog,
The Wannabe Literati.
I also Tweet.

Permalink “I had a feeling that I wasn’t crying over any one sad thing, but rather for many. […] I wished my heart would break and get it over it.” Thoughts on Kitchen and Moonlight Shadow, both by Banana Yoshimoto (translated from Japanese by Megan Backus) Banana Yoshimoto made me cry on my birthday. She made me think of my past year, and she made me think of you, too. It wasn’t my intention, really, to read Kitchen and Moonlight Shadow on the night of my birthday; in fact, it wasn’t my intention to read Yoshimoto anytime soon at all. I was still sorely amused by her fruity first name to take her book seriously (this coming from someone who lives in a country where Apple is a fairly common name). But there I was, bored on my 21st, eyeing my shelf for a quick enough read for the night, and so I pulled out her slim little book, plopped myself down on the couch with a bag of chips and a glass of soda, and read until the wee hours of the night. Read the full review here »
Permalink Eric Smith, author of Textual Healing – about a once-famous author who finds his former bestselling book in the sale bins of Barnes and Noble – talks about his book, John Cusack, and sugar gliders. Click here to read more »
Permalink “The kind that stays with you, a clever line in a movie, a well-written anecdote in a book, a quip in a poem, and finally, finally I had a punch-line, a point, a meaning to the rambling.” – Thoughts on Textual Healing by Eric Smith I tend to shy away from funny-romantic stories when it comes to books, mainly because the cookie-cutter formulas are getting rusty overtime: boy (or girl) with a crisis meets and falls in love with a girl (or boy) who becomes an inspiration for self-improvement, evil ex (or mother, or boss, or obsessed stalker) comes in and ruins everything, everybody’s in the dumps for a chapter or two, realization that love transcends everything else, epic chase scene involving killer traffic and a very supportive crowd, anti-climatic “this won’t work, we’re not meant to be” dialogue, award-winning monologue on love, and a happily-ever-after – it’s like the rinse-and-repeat instructions at the back of shampoo bottles. Eric Smith’s Textual Healing, however, has a sugar glider, a ninja vs. pirate duel, a guy who’s a Dick, and a support group for writers who can’t write. And that’s just for starters. Read the full review here »
Permalink “Worst Places to Die: On a toilet in a Barnes and Noble, reading this book.” – Thoughts on Your Wildest Dreams, Within Reason by Mike Sacks There’s something about reading award-winning books and novels on the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die list that makes me want to read really loony books in-between. Well, not really – maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to pick up and read Mike Sacks’ Your Wildest Dreams, Within Reason. Read the full review here »
Permalink “In my experience, dreams are unreliable, and the lovers whom people see in their dreams, well… Put it this way, I’m not exactly convinced. Far from it.” – Thoughts on Dream Angus by Alexander McCall Smith Sigh. I hate it when a book disappoints me, especially when I’ve convinced myself early on that I will love, oh I will love it so, so much. Alexander McCall Smith’s Dream Angus is my fourth Canongate Myth, and even before I’ve started reading the series, just when I was learning about them and reading the synopsis of each title, I was convinced that this one – this book about dreams and love and all its different manifestations – would be the stand-out, that one orange among the series of apples*. Read the full review here »
Permalink “You’ve been living in a world full of nonsense, David. No one has been telling you the truth about anything.” – Thoughts on Stitches by David Small Memoirs are often written; David Small drew his. What Augusten Burroughs accomplished with thousands of words in Running with Scissors, Small also did in panels of black and white in his graphic biography, Stitches. Read the full review here »
Permalink “Even an obvious fabrication is some comfort when you have few others.” – Thoughts on The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood Ah, Margaret Atwood. I’ve only read two of your works – your quite obscure short story collection, Bluebeard’s Egg, and this retelling of The Odyssey from Penelope’s point of view – and still I know for certain I will love the rest. I have yet to read your award-winning books, but I will hold on to The Penelopiad and claim it as my favorite of yours (so far). Read the full review here »
Permalink Two books up for grabs on The Wannabe Literati this month: paperback copies of The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow and Textual Healing by Eric Smith. I’m looking forward to reading both books myself this month. To enter, simply answer the questions provided for both giveaways – it’s open to all, and closes on February 24. Good luck!
Permalink This book is a total mindf*ck. – Thoughts on The Helmet of Horror by Victor Pelevin (translated from Russian by Andrew Bromfield) Here’s the thing: I don’t know what to feel about this book. It frustrates me; it frustrates me to no end after reading. You see, I didn’t get it. No, that’s not true, because I did, really, generally get it. But that’s the thing, see – it’s the surface things that I understood, but for anyone who’s ever read Victor Pelevin, there’s always more to his books, and The Helmet of Horror is no exception. Merely understanding does not cut it. Read the full review here »
Permalink “The old adage – humor is the best way to make the unbearable bearable – may be true.” – Thoughts on The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows Dear Reader, Forgive me if I succumbed to public opinion, but I have been enjoying reading books on, well, books – or writing, or authors, or something to that effect – and this one was everywhere, books-on-books categorically speaking. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows was a good enough read, too, though there was more Guernsey and literature and not enough potato peel pie in it. Read the full review here »
Permalink “Don’t keep looking back all the time, you’re bound to get depressed.” – Thoughts on The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro It seemed quite unlikely that I’d be impressed with Mr. Stevens’ accounts of his motoring holiday that took him to see the English countryside, so subtly interwoven with his reminiscences of certain instances and occasions during his days as butler to the great Englishman Lord Darlington. Quite frankly I judged the book as a mere simpleton, and was, to say the least, puzzled as to how it won an award as prestigious as the Man Booker Prize. That was my opinion upon reading the first page. I would like to admit now, having finished the book, that I could not have been more wrong. I love Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day. In fact, it now counts as a favorite. Read the full review here »
Permalink “Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love.” – Thoughts on Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (translated from Spanish by Edith Grossman) I cannot claim to have wholly appreciated Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Memories of My Melancholy Whores, simply because, at twenty, I am too young to appreciate his character’s life’s longevity as well as his having never fallen in love. Heck, I can’t even pretend to know the difference between mere sex and passionate love-making. But Marquez writes with such a passion that it reaches out to you and makes you feel it too, and for that alone my romantic self swoons. Read the full review here »
Permalink “Important, but not quite loved.” -Thoughts on Lion’s Honey by David Grossman (translated from Hebrew by Scott Schoffman) I am no stranger to the story of Samson; I studied in a private, religious school for 13 years, during which I was – for lack of a better, or nicer, word – force-fed the Bible and its stories*. Samson’s feats of strength (the only one I was ever able to remember was the one at the end, really – collapsing the two pillars and killing three thousand Philistines in one blow) and his treacherous, short-lived romance with Delilah (“you are my sweetest downfall,” so sings Regina Spektor) made a mark on me early on, if only because every child remembers stories of superhuman feats, Samson and Delilah was my first fatalist love story – I was yet to be introduced to Romeo and Juliet, and I was, at a very young age, wondering why Samson had to die together with the Philistines – sure, he had his eyes gouged out and was weak from his recent haircut, but if God really loved Samson, shouldn’t He have saved him? Enveloped Samson in a force field while the arena tumbled down around him, perhaps? Read the full review here »
Permalink “I’m not asking you to understand. I’m asking you to listen.” – Thoughts on The Canal by Lee Rourke First off, a story (of sorts) – here is how I ended up reading this book: “Oh, a book on boredom! That’s a new concept. Interesting. Maybe I should read it. I definitely should read it. Or maybe the boredom thing’s just a ploy – you know, those kinds of books ‘promising narration of an equally promising point of view,’ until you actually read it and then find out it’s a total waste of time and brain cells. Then again, I wouldn’t know until I try. Oh well, no harm done in reading it.” And that was that. A person needs three things when reading Lee Rourke’s The Canal: patience, patience, and more patience. But don’t get me wrong – I didn’t enumerate patience three times to emphasize a great deal needed for this book. Rather, different things call for different kinds of patience, and so you need three versions of it for three things: patience for the story, patience for the (unnamed) narrator, and patience for the shifting fascinations on things, namely on ducks, gravity, and airplanes. Read the full review here »
Permalink “Such extraordinary emotions in the space of paragraphs.” – Thoughts on The Last Time They Met by Anita Shreve I hate you, Anita Shreve. I hate you for writing The Last Time They Met. For making me fall in love and breaking my heart, all at once, on the same (last) page. I hate how you pretty much destroyed my hope in finding love as perfect and enduring and dangerous as that of Linda and Thomas. I will now probably end up an old maid with delusions of love so grand, there is no possibility whatsoever that I will find it. All thanks to you. Read the full review here »