This is what bliss must feel like.
Because Bangalore can suddenly surprise you with showers in summer, and make everything seem beautiful thanks to the steady drizzle. A steaming mug of south indian filter cofeee, brewed just right, music in the background (that is thankfully, and by some miracle, NOT death metal); and best of all, I finally raided the bookstore! After a too-long period of exercising tremendous self control, I finally caved. Thanks to a friend who did not stop me from being an uncontrollable over-enthusiastic almost-shopaholic. (He in fact egged me on. Thank you C, I owe the dent in my finances to your encouragement.)
I finally bought my copy of Eat Pray Love. I've read only about 50 pages and already love the style of writing to bits (I'm a girl after all, and chick lit is necessary once in a while). There is also Chanakya's Chant, and that book can cover an entire post, so I will let that be for now! And Alexander Mc call Smith, my current favorite, favorite Author. (Mma Ramotswe, I cannot wait to get to know you!) The man is a genius. And it is never a good day without a Calvin & Hobbes's the Lazy Sunday book.
I could not care less that I have to study for my French tests, that I have work to go to, come Monday and things to deal with once the long weekend is over. I do not care what new scams are brewing in the country. Or the bad roads. Or the corruption. Or the distant royal weddings. Or pesky arrogant auto drivers. It can all wait another day.
For now I just love that I am SO undecided on what to read first, I am going absolutely berserk and trying to read them all at once!
23 April, 2011
13 April, 2011
So after a long crazy phase with no time to read, I finally, finally, got my hands on Jeffrey's Archer's latest, the first of the Clifton Chronicles. And it feels like heaven to finally have a book that you enjoy every word of and you never want the book to end!
But this post isn't really about the joy of reading. (Heaven knows I go on about it worse than the school librarian, harping on about it here isn't going to win me any new followers)
And then I was reading the Clifton Chronicles, in transit, when i came across this stranger, who looked at the book in my hand, and snorted. Actually snorted. i kid you not. I did proceed to explain to him that yes, Archer can be predictable,that he writes almost entirely in cliches. but, he really is a master story teller, beacuse despite the cliches and the predictability, a reader is putty in his hands (?) the minute you pick up his book and start reading. I love stories, and unashamedly love his writing.was he convinced? Sigh. No. And of course that got me even more mad! Which of course led to a pointless argument where i resolutely stood by Archer's story telling and the other person refused to budge about his "awfully shameless" "pleasing the masses" style of writing. What right did a stranger have to snort at my book?
That is when I realised, would I be convinced if somebody pointed out the literary merits of Twilight? NO. We all seem to look down on other people'e taste in reading at some or the other point. And that cant be right! The morality of reading should say, read, let the others read, and don't judge!
And then of course there was this very insightful comment on my post Serendipity.
You can sing praises about love and patience and justice and all the other virtues, but really the hardest of all, is tolerance. Because it requires you not to judge. And that is second nature, to scoff at somebody's clothes, their views, their job. And why? Simply put, it makes you feel better. And fighting that is hard.
So there are women who like chick lit. Not everybody can devour a Gabriel Garcia Marquez in one sitting. Or appreciate the subtlety of Milan Kundera. There is a certain level of understanding and intellect you require for that. And not everybody can get there at the same pace, or even get there at all! But the right thing to do, is NOT scoff. Because it is easy to scoff and think how well read you are compared to a girl reading a perfectly cheesy chick lit, and it is hard to not judge a person by the book she reads and forego the ego boost.
Looking down at somebody engrossed in a Twilight book is easy-peasy. Tolerating the twilight mania and all the screaming enthusiastic girls going gaga over a frying pan faced guy, well thats easier said than done.
But that snort changed it all!
But this post isn't really about the joy of reading. (Heaven knows I go on about it worse than the school librarian, harping on about it here isn't going to win me any new followers)
And then I was reading the Clifton Chronicles, in transit, when i came across this stranger, who looked at the book in my hand, and snorted. Actually snorted. i kid you not. I did proceed to explain to him that yes, Archer can be predictable,that he writes almost entirely in cliches. but, he really is a master story teller, beacuse despite the cliches and the predictability, a reader is putty in his hands (?) the minute you pick up his book and start reading. I love stories, and unashamedly love his writing.was he convinced? Sigh. No. And of course that got me even more mad! Which of course led to a pointless argument where i resolutely stood by Archer's story telling and the other person refused to budge about his "awfully shameless" "pleasing the masses" style of writing. What right did a stranger have to snort at my book?
That is when I realised, would I be convinced if somebody pointed out the literary merits of Twilight? NO. We all seem to look down on other people'e taste in reading at some or the other point. And that cant be right! The morality of reading should say, read, let the others read, and don't judge!
And then of course there was this very insightful comment on my post Serendipity.
You can sing praises about love and patience and justice and all the other virtues, but really the hardest of all, is tolerance. Because it requires you not to judge. And that is second nature, to scoff at somebody's clothes, their views, their job. And why? Simply put, it makes you feel better. And fighting that is hard.
So there are women who like chick lit. Not everybody can devour a Gabriel Garcia Marquez in one sitting. Or appreciate the subtlety of Milan Kundera. There is a certain level of understanding and intellect you require for that. And not everybody can get there at the same pace, or even get there at all! But the right thing to do, is NOT scoff. Because it is easy to scoff and think how well read you are compared to a girl reading a perfectly cheesy chick lit, and it is hard to not judge a person by the book she reads and forego the ego boost.
Looking down at somebody engrossed in a Twilight book is easy-peasy. Tolerating the twilight mania and all the screaming enthusiastic girls going gaga over a frying pan faced guy, well thats easier said than done.
But that snort changed it all!
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