The Joy of Reading

How do you explain the odds of reading the obituary of a novelist, a perfect stranger until then, and spotting her novels on a library shelf at your first glance on the very same day? Call it fate, or luck, or a couple of busy nights of reading.



Spark x JMW Turner
Never judge a book by its cover?


Muriel Spark, or Dame Muriel, is her name. I can’t offer more information about the author until I devour the pages of Reality and Dreams . But I consider myself truly blessed recalling how many times these happy chance encounters have introduced me to literary giants or, in most cases, writers of bestsellers. The Vogue food writer and incredibly humorous and adventurous gourmet lover Jeffrey Steingarten (aka The Man Who Ate Everything) being one.

Restrained by my shoestring budget, insatiable (and somewhat growing) appetite for reading, and environmental concerns, these days I find myself loitering Pageone with no intention of making purchases (ie ‘book-stapling’) but trying to stuff titles of the latest releases into my head. The thought of actually taking out a pen and start copying did occur but well, better not get myself blacklisted. Dashing home, I would start a marathon search on the public library web site, keeping my fingers firmly crossed. Yes, it’s a shot in the dark. Entries of top ten lists are never my cup of tea and I still have hesitation about getting near The Da Vinci Code before the release of its screen version. Local librarians often have little in common with the average reader, or those who review books for the Guardian and the Times. Sometimes the books that I check out are virtually brand new but otherwise it’s comforting to know you’re not alone from the steady stream of borrower’s records.

‘Tasteless conversations, and a hideous face’ are my worst nightmare. There’s no stronger warning than the one issued by the Song writer Huang Tingjian. Perhaps we should all read more (and write less junk), listen more (and talk less crap).

And yes, books are a girl's best friend.

Six Feet Under

Wanna hug me?



What is life, and what is death? Does death become less traumatic and painful when one remembers that the deceased continues to live in the hearts and minds of those with whom they had shared episodes of life and that their paths once crossed. Death is overwhelmingly distressing and painful because it denies people of the capacity to create new memories. But then we do keep reinventing memories, don't we, and memories always do get distilled down to purity with the passage of time, with the worst part weeded out. Does life become more bearable knowing that death is inevitable?

For some strange reason, the donor card (archive buddies: not film-related, but human organs) that I have been keeping always manages to find a way to vanish, either due to theft or during a major clean-up. And when I spotted a stack of donor cards in a public library I wasted no time to pop one into my wallet. I hope it gets to stay for a while, but if it doesn't, I hope it's for a very good cause. We all die some day--when we just dunno. Which is why the followings make my list-of-the-day:

1) Update my dusty, musty blog with some super-egoistic message;
2) Make that (those) phone call(s) and write that (those) email(s);
3) Check out that book from the library and start reading, hoping it will last me longer than a couple of days. Promptly place a request for another;
4) Watch that DVD;
5) Do that yoga session;
6) Drink that coffee, cook that meal and munch on that oil-infused, fattening pastry;
7) Say that little prayer to God;
8) Reorganise my toiletry unit and flour basket in the fringe;
9) Make plans for the rest of the week;
10) Check out the origin of 'Bohemian' on the internet;
11) Check out charitable ways to get rid of my sofa, albeit futilely.

And the list goes on, so does life.

Seize the day and have no regrets.