It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was a defeat better than many victories."
July 18, 2012
My favorite quote - Of Human Bondage
William Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage contains some
masterpieces that make you rethink your whole outlook towards your life.
If I were to pick one, and only one, from that book, it would be this.
"He realised that he had deceived himself; it was no self-sacrifice that
had driven him to think of marrying, but the desire for a wife and a home
and love; and now that it all seemed to slip through his fingers he was
seized with despair. He wanted all that more than anything in the world.
What did he care for Spain and its cities, Cordova, Toledo, Leon; what to
him were the pagodas of Burmah and the lagoons of South Sea Islands?
America was here and now. It seemed to him that all his life he had
followed the ideals that other people, by their words or their writings,
had instilled into him, and never the desires of his own heart. Always his
course had been swayed by what he thought he should do and never by what
he wanted with his whole soul to do. He put all that aside now with a
gesture of impatience. He had lived always in the future, and the present
always, always had slipped through his fingers. His ideals? He thought of
his desire to make a design, intricate and beautiful, out of the myriad,
meaningless facts of life: had he not seen also that the simplest pattern,
that in which a man was born, worked, married, had children, and died, was
likewise the most perfect?
It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was a defeat better than many victories."
It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was a defeat better than many victories."
July 11, 2012
The Scream - Short Story
It happened some time during the night. A shrill, piercing scream let itself loose with a vengeance, lasting for several seconds. At 11:30pm, to be exact.
No one who heard that scream could sleep for several hours, such was its horror. People tumbled out of their houses with worried faces and with that faint thrill the human mind associates with a mystery. It was a gated community - secluded, safe, and boring. The monotony of their lives was such that the poor things craved some excitement, and this scream held plenty of promise. No one could scream like that without something unspeakable having happened.
"Mrs. Dunlop, did you hear that? !" That was Ms. Sheila Bishop, the kindly spinster from across the street.
"Yes, it was awful! I wonder which house it came from? " Mrs. Dunlop lived with her septuagenarian sister and at that moment could kill for some excellent gossip-worthy incident.
" It came from the Jennings's place. I hope nothing's happened!"
"I hope so, too!" Mrs. Dunlop's face showed that she hoped for the exact opposite.
People had started gathering in twos and threes around the Jennings' place, no one mustering the courage to knock. Greg, the Jennings' teenage neighbour, stepped forward bravely. He pressed the buzzer for several seconds without success and then looked uncertain about what to do. Someone called out, "Call Lisa or Jerry on their phone! They can't still be asleep, we are all pretty sure that was their little kid screaming. "
When the phones did not yield any success the police was promptly called onto the scene. They arrived quickly, tried ringing the bell again to be sure, and broke open the door. The entire neighbourhood waited outside breathlessly while the police went inside, guns drawn. It was somewhat of an anti-climax when after a few minutes they came out of the house proclaiming no one was inside.
The entire house was thoroughly searched, they said - no one was in. Maybe the people misheard? The people were adamant. They were positive that the scream came from that house.
"Moreover, the house was padlocked from the inside; how could you explain an empty house that was locked from the inside? ", was the standard dialogue on everyone's lips. The police promised to look into the matter. The house was sealed, and a policeman put on guard there.
The people talked about it and exchanged theories as to what might've happened until they finally called it a day and went back to their homes to sleep in peace. That peace was short-lived.
It happened some time during the night. A shrill, piercing scream let itself loose with a vengeance, lasting for several seconds. At 11:30pm, to be exact. People rushed outside, some of them still sleepy-eyed. Ms. Sheila Bishop was the first on the street.
"The scream came from Mrs. Dunlop's house this time. . . " Her voice was shaky.
People knocked on the door. They instinctively knew there would be no answer.
Everyone stared wildly at each other, terrified about what was going on. The question running in everyone's minds was,
Who is next?
No one who heard that scream could sleep for several hours, such was its horror. People tumbled out of their houses with worried faces and with that faint thrill the human mind associates with a mystery. It was a gated community - secluded, safe, and boring. The monotony of their lives was such that the poor things craved some excitement, and this scream held plenty of promise. No one could scream like that without something unspeakable having happened.
"Mrs. Dunlop, did you hear that? !" That was Ms. Sheila Bishop, the kindly spinster from across the street.
" It came from the Jennings's place. I hope nothing's happened!"
"I hope so, too!" Mrs. Dunlop's face showed that she hoped for the exact opposite.
People had started gathering in twos and threes around the Jennings' place, no one mustering the courage to knock. Greg, the Jennings' teenage neighbour, stepped forward bravely. He pressed the buzzer for several seconds without success and then looked uncertain about what to do. Someone called out, "Call Lisa or Jerry on their phone! They can't still be asleep, we are all pretty sure that was their little kid screaming. "
When the phones did not yield any success the police was promptly called onto the scene. They arrived quickly, tried ringing the bell again to be sure, and broke open the door. The entire neighbourhood waited outside breathlessly while the police went inside, guns drawn. It was somewhat of an anti-climax when after a few minutes they came out of the house proclaiming no one was inside.
The entire house was thoroughly searched, they said - no one was in. Maybe the people misheard? The people were adamant. They were positive that the scream came from that house.
"Moreover, the house was padlocked from the inside; how could you explain an empty house that was locked from the inside? ", was the standard dialogue on everyone's lips. The police promised to look into the matter. The house was sealed, and a policeman put on guard there.
The people talked about it and exchanged theories as to what might've happened until they finally called it a day and went back to their homes to sleep in peace. That peace was short-lived.
It happened some time during the night. A shrill, piercing scream let itself loose with a vengeance, lasting for several seconds. At 11:30pm, to be exact. People rushed outside, some of them still sleepy-eyed. Ms. Sheila Bishop was the first on the street.
"The scream came from Mrs. Dunlop's house this time. . . " Her voice was shaky.
People knocked on the door. They instinctively knew there would be no answer.
Everyone stared wildly at each other, terrified about what was going on. The question running in everyone's minds was,
Who is next?
May 28, 2012
Dear Jane - Short Story
Lady Luck had taken an instant dislike to Jane from the moment she was born.
A series of complications ensured she plopped out of her mum prematurely, resulting in being trapped in the incubator for a good couple of months. Then followed a series of incidents that can only be put down to pure bad luck. A sleepy nurse had handed her to the wrong parents; as a result, she had grown up with an alcoholic father and a bulimic mother.
Jane was almost always picked last in school for games owing to her small frame, was a wallflower when it came to parties, and being underdeveloped at seventeen ensured she still hadn’t gotten her first kiss yet.
Jane ran away from home at nineteen, hooked up a ride with a some hippies and, when their truck was stopped by a policeman for speeding, was promptly arrested along with the group for drugs and whatnot. Lady Luck perhaps decided to throw the poor kid a bone here, since the policemen who took the hippies in gave Jane a once over, checked her belongings, and told her to get the hell out of there before they changed their collective minds.
The first town she chose had a sleepy little population of 400 people.
Prosecutors would later argue that the murders started exactly two days after she entered town.
Jane just smiled.
A series of complications ensured she plopped out of her mum prematurely, resulting in being trapped in the incubator for a good couple of months. Then followed a series of incidents that can only be put down to pure bad luck. A sleepy nurse had handed her to the wrong parents; as a result, she had grown up with an alcoholic father and a bulimic mother.
Jane was almost always picked last in school for games owing to her small frame, was a wallflower when it came to parties, and being underdeveloped at seventeen ensured she still hadn’t gotten her first kiss yet.
Jane ran away from home at nineteen, hooked up a ride with a some hippies and, when their truck was stopped by a policeman for speeding, was promptly arrested along with the group for drugs and whatnot. Lady Luck perhaps decided to throw the poor kid a bone here, since the policemen who took the hippies in gave Jane a once over, checked her belongings, and told her to get the hell out of there before they changed their collective minds.
The first town she chose had a sleepy little population of 400 people.
Prosecutors would later argue that the murders started exactly two days after she entered town.
Jane just smiled.
May 15, 2012
The Long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul - Douglas Adams
(Might contain some spoilers)
The Story
Strange things are happening in London. Police are baffled by a mysterious death - a man is found dead in a room, all doors and windows securely locked from the inside. The police would gladly term it as suicide; only, the man's neatly severed head is sitting a few feet away.
Around the same time, an explosion at a check-in counter of Heathrow airport has the authorities puzzled - no one has gotten seriously hurt, and there are no explosives to be found at the place that would actually explain how the explosion happened.
Dirk Gently, holistic detective and lazy bum, decides to look into the matter.
Just so you understand what kind of detective you're dealing with here, let
us get to know Mr. Gently better, shall we? It has been a full 3 months since
Dirk has opened his fridge, and, afraid of what unspeakable things might be
taking life inside, he opts to throw it out and buy a new fridge instead. If Dirk
Gently's in his car heading someplace and needs to ask for directions, he
doesn't. No sir. He just chooses a car that looks like it knows where it's
going and follows it.
So, anyway, Dirk Gently starts his investigation and runs into Kate Schechter.
Kate Schechter has gotten herself involved in the matter purely by an unfortunate coincidence. She is waiting at the check-in counter for her Oslo flight, minding her own business, when she notices the man before her is being impossibly obtuse. First, he doesn't have a ticket; when the check-in girl asks him to buy a ticket, he doesn't have the cash; he opts to pay by cheque instead, and gets deeply roused when the check-in girl tells him they don't accept cheques.
On the verge of missing her flight, and exasperated beyond endurance, Kate offers to pay for his ticket, and will he please write the cheque over to her –
At this point he thoughtfully replies
he doesn't have a cheque book. Kate pays nevertheless, but the last straw is
when the girl asks for his passport and he slowly replies he doesn't have that
one, either.
Kate walks away then leaving the man and the check-in girl to argue in peace, and moments later the explosion happens. The obtuse guy happens to be none other than Thor, the God of thunder and a lot of other things, as he introduces himself to Kate at a later stage (unfortunately for him, when she’s in a foul mood) –
The
plot also includes Odin, Thor's dad, Toe Rag, Odin's weasly side-kick
not unlike Gollum of LOTR fame, a green monster, and a couple of others
who are unimportant, so I've forgotten their names.
You've got to read the book to uncover the mystery of the death, the explosion, and other things - it wouldn't be fun if I wrote everything here.
My Take
Douglas Adams had already wowed me with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so when my husband suggested reading The long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul, I didn't need to think twice. Since Douglas Adams had already achieved perfection with The Hitchhiker's Guide, I consciously had somewhat low expectations from this one. I was pleasantly surprised - he dealt with the serious topics of death and explosions and father-son relationship strain with due respect, and he had me in splits at the same time.
Some parts of the book are particularly funny. At one point along the way, Dirk picks up a newspaper and turns to the horoscope page, and reads his horoscope for the day -
The horoscope for that paper is
written by The Great Zaganza, an old friend of Dirk’s who knows his birthday :P
Whatever his plot might be, Douglas Adams manages to infuse a hilarious riot of humor into all his lines. The only complaint I have with this book is, he ended it much too abruptly. He could easily have gone on for another 50 pages or so without boring anybody, but he chose instead to end it with an abruptness that must’ve surprised him as well.
If you found the plot and the story gripping, go ahead and read the book. If you haven't - well, read it anyway because it is so awesome :D
The Story
Strange things are happening in London. Police are baffled by a mysterious death - a man is found dead in a room, all doors and windows securely locked from the inside. The police would gladly term it as suicide; only, the man's neatly severed head is sitting a few feet away.
Around the same time, an explosion at a check-in counter of Heathrow airport has the authorities puzzled - no one has gotten seriously hurt, and there are no explosives to be found at the place that would actually explain how the explosion happened.
Dirk Gently, holistic detective and lazy bum, decides to look into the matter.
Just so you understand what kind of detective you're dealing with here, let
us get to know Mr. Gently better, shall we? It has been a full 3 months since
Dirk has opened his fridge, and, afraid of what unspeakable things might be
taking life inside, he opts to throw it out and buy a new fridge instead. If Dirk
Gently's in his car heading someplace and needs to ask for directions, he
doesn't. No sir. He just chooses a car that looks like it knows where it's
going and follows it.So, anyway, Dirk Gently starts his investigation and runs into Kate Schechter.
Kate Schechter has gotten herself involved in the matter purely by an unfortunate coincidence. She is waiting at the check-in counter for her Oslo flight, minding her own business, when she notices the man before her is being impossibly obtuse. First, he doesn't have a ticket; when the check-in girl asks him to buy a ticket, he doesn't have the cash; he opts to pay by cheque instead, and gets deeply roused when the check-in girl tells him they don't accept cheques.
On the verge of missing her flight, and exasperated beyond endurance, Kate offers to pay for his ticket, and will he please write the cheque over to her –
"My name is Kate Schechter. Two 'c's, two
'h's, two 'e's, and also a 't', an 'r', and an 's'. Provided they're all there
the bank won't be fussy about the order they come in, they never seem to know
themselves."
Kate walks away then leaving the man and the check-in girl to argue in peace, and moments later the explosion happens. The obtuse guy happens to be none other than Thor, the God of thunder and a lot of other things, as he introduces himself to Kate at a later stage (unfortunately for him, when she’s in a foul mood) –
"I am Thor. I am the God of Thunder. The God
of Rain. The God of the High Towering Clouds. The God of Lightning. The God of
the Flowing Currents. The God of the Particles. The God of the Shaping and the
Binding Forces. The God of the Wind. The God of the Growing Crops. The God of
the Hammer Mjollnir."
"Are you?" simmered Kate.
You've got to read the book to uncover the mystery of the death, the explosion, and other things - it wouldn't be fun if I wrote everything here.
My Take
Douglas Adams had already wowed me with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so when my husband suggested reading The long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul, I didn't need to think twice. Since Douglas Adams had already achieved perfection with The Hitchhiker's Guide, I consciously had somewhat low expectations from this one. I was pleasantly surprised - he dealt with the serious topics of death and explosions and father-son relationship strain with due respect, and he had me in splits at the same time.
Some parts of the book are particularly funny. At one point along the way, Dirk picks up a newspaper and turns to the horoscope page, and reads his horoscope for the day -
"You
are very fat and stupid and persistently wear a ridiculous hat which you should
be ashamed of."
Whatever his plot might be, Douglas Adams manages to infuse a hilarious riot of humor into all his lines. The only complaint I have with this book is, he ended it much too abruptly. He could easily have gone on for another 50 pages or so without boring anybody, but he chose instead to end it with an abruptness that must’ve surprised him as well.
If you found the plot and the story gripping, go ahead and read the book. If you haven't - well, read it anyway because it is so awesome :D
April 29, 2012
Now Reading: The Warden, by Anthony Trollope
"The Warden" is the first novel in the series, "Chronicles of Barsetshire", and Trollope's fourth novel.
This is my first Trollope - I love Victorian literature, let's see how it goes.
This is my first Trollope - I love Victorian literature, let's see how it goes.
April 02, 2012
Cracked on Nicholas Sparks
I admit there was a time when I almost took Nicholas Sparks seriously - I had just finished reading Erich Segal's Love Story, and naturally turned to The Notebook. Never got to reading it though.
Cracked.com has this amazing article on Nicholas Sparks, and his formula for a successful novel / movie.
I have included a short part of it here -
Please oh please, read the full article. Will make your day.
Cracked.com has this amazing article on Nicholas Sparks, and his formula for a successful novel / movie.
I have included a short part of it here -
Please oh please, read the full article. Will make your day.
March 14, 2012
The Famous Five turn 70
 |
| Five on Finniston Farm |
When I first read the news on The Guardian I was taken by surprise - somehow, every time I read these books I like to think those adventures are happening right now, in the present. To think that Enid Blyton dreamed and penned those books more than seven decades ago can only make us envious of her imagination.
Would you like to relive those books? If not in entirety, here is a short paragraph about each book's story. A review, if you will. "Five on Finniston Farm" is one of my favorites. Yours?
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