The Jordy Book Club: 2010 Retrospective

I last wrote about Jordy's favorite books a year ago. In the year since, he's developed an even deeper love for reading and stories, and can recite along almost word for word to many of his favorites. I love that he has a pretty established library now, filled with books that are taped together and dog-eared from daily use. That library of over 150 books is so much a part of who he is. For two fellow readers, it's a lovely thing to witness.

So without further ado, here are the top books of 2010, ranked in no particular order, and treated like members of the family by my little bibliophile.

Let's start off with the night books. By this I mean, these are the books that are either inside, or under his cot. A pool from which we read between three to six most nights before bed.



Airport, by Byron Barton
I bought this for Jordy to help him make sense of his first flight, an 11-hour long epic journey to New Zealand in December 2009. He started off fascinated by the wonderful detail in the pictures and point out all the objects he recognized, from buses to planes to a little boy with a red bag. Now he knows the whole book by heart, and can recite whole passages, a particular favourite bit being "control tower to pilot: all clear for takeoff!".



Papa, please get the moon for me, by Eric Carle
Yet another one he knows by heart. Made even more special when D reads it with Jordy. Oh and he loves the Youtube version too!

I Love You as Big as the World, by David Van Buren and Time Warnes
I got this off a Scholastic book club order form from Jordy's school and am so delighted I did. It is one of the sweetest books about a parent and child, and shows a nose-kiss on the cover - one of Jordy's favourite past-times, aside from eating cake!



The Little Red Caboose I still don't know why he loves this one so much. But it has to be in his cot when he sleeps!



Lion in the Meadow
A classic New Zealand beautifully-rendered tale about a young boy and his friendship with a lion. The appearance of a huge pink dragon is of particular delight to J. As is the wonderful pictorial detail. Jordy loves reciting the lines, some of them a mouthful which he does with stunning accuracy, like "Mother, there is a huge, whiskery, yellow lion in the meadow." And he's started describing the tiniest details in the book with his usual panache. Example. "little boy reading a book on mummy's lap" or "lion whispering story to little boy". And the pink Shrek dragon Godpa James bought for Jordy from Universal Studios is the EXACT replica of the dragon in the meadow. Just wonderful!

Run Rabbit Run
Another Kiwi favorite. For some reason, the line "Is it the farmer come to bring me some carrots?"tickles him to no end.



Chocolate mousse for greedy goose
He started out iffy about this one, but now it is a firm favorite. Favorite line to recite includes "macaroni for shetland pony". The sweetest thing, he calls the book "chocolate moose, reading goose".



Where is the Green Sheep?
LOVES this one. Has invented a whole bunch of names for the sheep depicted, including "astronaut sheep", "reflection sheep" for a sheep gazing at himself in a pond, "birthday cake sheep" for a bunch of picnicing sheep, and "aeroplane sheep" for a sheep with angel wings.



Toddle Waddle
This was the first Julia Donaldson that started him off. And the first book that featured a travelling snail, so of course he loved it!

The last bedtime book is one that I got as a cheapie from Kinokuniya called Charlie's Clothes. It must be no longer available as I can't find any image of it online!

As for day time books, there are truly too many to name for 2010. But these are the ones we come back to time and again.



The little yellow digger
Fabulous rhymes, one of the books in Jordy's collection I love reading out loud the most.



Peas!
Spur of the moment purchase turned favorite dinner time book. He now calls peas Pete and Penelope.




The very hungry caterpillar
We had this for ages but he showed no interest in it before he turned 18 months. After that though, it suddenly became a mealtime staple. And now he loves counting the different fruit and saying in a loud voice "one slice of salami!"



My big world book
His favourite of the genre. Jordy's always loved being tested on his vocabulary. Must get it from me. In the early days, he'd point at the koala and say "kaupapa!". Very sweet. These days, he shows his nature boy tendencies by pointing out things like "Huge rock under the waterfall!"





Monkey puzzle
I used to have to read this everyday! Now it's more like once a week.

On the subject of reading though, my sister just posted the single best speech I have read in a looooong time. Mario Vargas Llosa's Nobel Prize for Literature lecture on reading. I almost teared in awe at how he managed to make epic the simple acts of imagining, writing and reading. I was alternately thrilled and inspired. And also very thankful that I have married a reading man, and we are raising a little reading boy.

The Business of Fiction

I make no secret of my love of fiction. In fact, I can count on one, ok, maybe two hands the number of non-fiction books I have truly loved.

I love reading fiction so much it was not surprising that I ended up studying English Literature at university. Don't get me wrong, I loved almost every minute of my time at uni, it's just that I've always felt slightly err, lacking, in terms of my chosen field. Walking through Borders or Kino, I would always, ALWAYS walk by the rows and rows of Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Go Fish, or Who Moved My Cheese, somehow feeling like something was just a little wrong with me for not being interested in what these books had to offer.

So it was with great delight, and a huge cheesy grin on my face, that I drove to work two weeks ago listening to this programme on the BBC World Service - all about the strange world of Business Books. A Business Daily correspondent delved into the reading masses of New York City to see whether the economic downturn had had an effect on the types of books people were reading, and one of my favourite strangers-whom-I-want-to-befriend, the fabulously named Bright Simons who reports from Ghana, talks about what business books look like in his part of the world. At the end of the programme, I felt so not alone. In fact, I felt completely relieved that it wasn't just me feeling a bit weirded out by the proliferation of business books out there.

I felt so good that since 31 May (when that fateful edition of Business Daily reached my ears), I've had one of my best runs of fiction-reading in ages! I've finished The Book Thief, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South.

I love reading fiction because it nourishes the soul. Because it is so profound (to me) that every word I am reading has emerged from someone's imagination. And that I know there is a story within me that is waiting to be told, and that I just need the guts and the wherewithal to sit down and write it out.

It's Been Forever (But I Still Think About You All The Time)

Yikes I feel so guilty that I haven't blogged for close to a month! Four letters could somehow explain two weeks of this hiatus: HFMD. Yep, Jordy finally succumbed to the horrible bug that was going around and erupted in over 400 blisters (I lost count in the end). He was an amazing little invalid throughout the two week long quarantine period. My work was superb and allowed me to work some days from home, mama and gong gong were mobilised to help some days, D took a few childcare leave days, and somehow, we survived relatively unscathed!

A week after the official all-clear from HFMD and Jordy is down with a mild cold again (will this germy phase ever end?!), and now I've caught the mild bug too. D has kindly offered to do solo Jordy bedtime duty, while I sit here nursing a bit of a headache and trying my best to update my once, rather lively blog.

Poor blog. In the busyness that is life with an almost-two year old, you have suffered some collateral damage!

So I found myself thinking: should I continue with this blog? Whatever for? Who reads it? What's it all for? And the universe somehow answered back in a tiny whisper: Keep at it. If anything, it's been going for more than three years, and has been such a lovely thing to revisit now and again (for me, at least!), and it does allow me the rather self-indulgent arena to pen anything. Ah well. And I think Jordy may find it a bit of a hoot sometime down the track.

Anyway, so I thought I'd regain some of ye olde blogging fervour by doing a quick recap of what I've been reading. Haven't done a bookish blog in a while. But then again, between watching The Wire (Awesome!), Mad Men (Super Awesome!), American Idol (Not So Awesome), and Glee (Awesome! Awesome!), didn't leave me much time to get lost in a book.

A colleague at work introduced me to a pretty amazing fantasy series though. Was lost in it for four whole days! As in reading at any spare moment kinda good (coincided with a viral fever I got in April). Anne Bishop's The Black Jewels Trilogy (book one pictured below).


One of the darkest, most sensuous, and subversive things I've read in a while. Subversive in all the good ways though, especially in Bishop's use of the language of emotions, love and power. Everything is turned on its head. Gender stereotypes are smashed, and just when you think you've gotten the characters and the world they inhabit figured out, Bishop turns the tables on you and you either smile, gasp or both. Very dark, very compelling and ultimately, very satisfying. Oh and also very cheap, about $13 a book at Kinokuniya!

The other standout thing I've read recently is Tracy Chevalier's new book Remarkable Creatures. Had no idea what it was about before I bought it (but I have loved every single thing she's ever written), and then, discovered to my joy of joys, that it a) is set in Lyme Regis (where a pivotal scene in Jane Austen's Persuasion occurs); b) chronicles the unlikely friendship between two women in the early 1800s (a particularly favourite theme and time period of mine); c) brings to life the stories of Britain's first women fossil hunters and paleontologists (Dinosaurs! Fossils! Skeletons! Yay!); d) is all about Mary Anning, the woman who inspired the tongue twister "She sells seashells by the seashore".

How cool is that right?! Will not give anything else away except to say that this book is SCREAMING to be made into a movie!




Isn't the cover just gorgeous? Sigh.

Oh and I'm just savouring a book another colleague at work lent me (in the happiest twist of fate, I now work directly with people who read. Fiction. Yep. Elation!): The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Again, another book I knew nothing about but fell in love as soon as I read the blurb. It is narrated by Death. Enough said. Love it already (though it is about the Holocaust)! But seriously, I'm only a tenth into the book and it's one of those gems you want to savour every last word of. So am trying to go slow...

On the topic of The Book Thief though, what is it about British vs American book covers? I mean am I the only one that thinks that British editions are almost ALWAYS far superior in terms of look, design, feel, and overall suitability to the tone of the book? I mean, judge for yourselves:

UK version

US version

Am I not wrong? The US version is just a tad fugly right? I'm just so relieved the edition I'm reading is the UK one.

Anyway, argh, my cold is taking a turn for the worse. Bring on the tissues. Will end here. But just wanted to say, thanks to anyone who has returned regularly to check this site for updates. I've been remiss I know, but me and my blog, we just went through a bit of a quiet patch, but just today, have renewed our vows. So here's to a bit more sizzle in this relationship hopefully!

Watch this space I guess :)

The Jordy Book Club (Or, Milestones in Reading)

Alright people, we achieved a major milestone in literacy today, yo! It was so exciting. I was reading one of Jordy's favourite books, the Usborne (Look and Say) Town book, and asked Jordy the same questions I always ask him when we read together, "Where's the dog? Where's the car? Where's the fish?" And so on... and normally he just looks at me and says, "Kah!" or "Tuh!" or "Ba!" or more recently "Kiwawa!". But anyway, today, drumroll... he actually looked at me, then looked at the page, and started pointing at the pictures!

YAY! Now this may not seem like much, but to a stay-at-home-mum (but not for much longer!) who does this several times a day, EVERYDAY, it is a wonderful change! Whee! Yeah so from recollection, he pointed out:

car, bus, bicycle, plane, flower, bear, dog, cat, fish, nose, eyes, ears, hair, mouth, toes, baby, egg, balloon, orange, pen, apple, ball, rattle, drum, tricyle, boat, dump truck, concrete mixer, err... there are a few more but I say, isn't it just wonderful?!

Anyway, this prompted me to think about what Jordy's Book Club List would look like if he hosted his own daytime chat show. You know, the books with the Jordy seal of approval. They do change from time to time, but here are a few perennial favourites. Which are (in no particular order, save for the last book):


Moo, Baa, La La La
Definitely up there with the best of social satire. Note how all the animals say what is required of them, save the pigs, who sing and dance.


My Car
D and I like this book. The sentences are short. They are grammatical. They make sense. And the pictures are colourful. Jordy just likes the red car.

Things That Go
I have learnt much from this tome, as has Jordy. Whoever knew there was such a thing as a recumbent tricycle? My growing knowledge of all things vehicular continues to astound me.

Roadwork
A Jordy daily must-read. At least several times. Excellent use of onomatopoeia. One of the best books to read out loud. As much fun for reader as it is for listener! Entire book is now held together by scotchtape.

That's not my truck
Whoever knew a radiator could be holey? An early Jordy favourite, which he still brings out at least once a day.


Diggers and Dumpers
This is the best money I have spent on Jordy hands down. Cost me $4.99 at discount book store. LOVES it. Literally squeals with excitement when you take it out of shelf and place in front of him. His favourite page is "Tractor", as he will scamper off and bring you his real tractor looking all pleased with himself.


Ten Frogs
Recent addition to the favourites list. Cool Quentin Blake artwork (he of Roald Dahl fame), and who can beat a hundred wasps all buzzing at the end?



Teaching Bears to Count
A quintessentially Kiwi book, this one has five chocolate fish and six pikelets! Another one that is more sticky tape than book. He's thumbed through it so many times I've lost count!

Town
He loves spotting the different things about the town. Of great delight are the little mini Schnauzer dog and the black cat hiding in the busy street scene. Oh and not forgetting the bricklayers and concrete mixer. Another $5 cheapie I got that turned out to be a gem!

And of course, the favourite of all favourites. The Quieter or Tantrums, The Silencer of Screams, The Queller of Cries... Goodnight Moon. All you have to do is start reciting the first few lines and Jordy will calm down. It's a literary dose of valium! Highly recommended to all first time parents! Do not be turned off by the psychadelic colours used or the slightly freakish figure of the "quiet old lady whispering hush"! This book is a tiny miracle!

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy

Let me preface this review by saying that I usually hate it when critics label a book as "important". Important? To whom? Can you let me be the judge of what is important in my world please? Things get compounded when when another VIP says the book is the "most important environmental book" you'll ever read.

So it was with a little scepticism that I turned to the first page of The Road.

And was proven wrong almost immediately.

The Road is important. It is essential. It is the most original, hit-you-in-vital-organs-you-never-knew-you-had powerful piece of anything I have read this year. Or any year for that matter.

Defying categorisation, The Road tells of a journey taken by a father and a son. They are nameless, and the landscape they travel through is cauterised, bleak and dead. There are no lengthy explanations of what happened to cause such complete and final destruction to Earth, just tantalising hints. The man and boy are travelling south, to what they hope is warmer weather, and life.

Cormac McCarthy paints the despair and hopelessness of their situation in language at once spare, and heartbreaking. Here is a storyteller with a true gift of poetry; he creates a lexicon for this post-apocalyptic world that, as one reviewer so rightly put it, is Biblical in scope. In an ironic juxtaposition, McCarthy unleashes his potent vocabulary in his descriptions of a world slowly bleeding away its nouns, adjectives, verbs, and interestingly, punctuation, as it becomes more grey and moribund by the season.

The reader is assailed by wave after wave of unavoidable imagery: the greyness "like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world"; where "(t)he ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void." The countless dead they pass along their journey are conjured up in their full horror: "The flesh cloven along the bones, the ligaments dried to tug and taut as wires. Shriveled and drawn like latterday bogfolk."

The whole situation may seem hopeless to the reader, but really, what can the father and son do? They are "each the other's world entire", and McCarthy reveals the man's thoughts: "He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke." So with those words, their journey becomes a quest, the Fisher King roaming the waste land to make it fecund again. (Aside: Sorry, this is the literature student who studied one too many T.S. Eliot poems talking. But I did feel a strong connection between this book and Eliot's The Waste Land.)

To me, reading The Road was like being in a dream, where I'm attending a wake (yes, bring on The Sandman allusions here too). But this is no ordinary wake, I'm sitting there listening to a disembodied voice read out the eulogy for the Earth.

Academic Richard Katula says "that a classic eulogy contains two parts: praise for the dead and advice for the living". In that case, The Road is a post-modern, post-recycling, post-sustainability eulogy then. The dead are not praised. They are forgotten; mummified in their moment of terror and regret. But it is in the living - and I shan't give away any spoilers here - that McCarthy eventually concentrates his message on. I finished the book in a half-daze. knowing that I would tell as many people as I could to read it.

For me, I came away so thankful for what I have, and ashamed at what could be: "Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it."

The Children's Book, by A S Byatt

I'm not sure I'll find a book to top this one for quite some time.

This is, put simply, my favourite book in recent memory - and not just because the cover is sumptuously beautiful!

Byatt's Possession is one of my favourite books of all time, but my attempts at reading her other works have been dismal. So with trepidation, I started on her latest offering The Children's Book. Needn't have feared as, though it was complex and difficult at times, the book was so well-thought out, so meticulously researched and perfectly plotted, that I felt the twin urges of speeding through it to find out what happens to the characters, and poring over every word and detail as the writing was so stunning.

Set in Edwardian England, the book is a masterful tapestry of the domestic and the epic - somehow managing to convey both the tiniest details of fin de siecle life and the meta forces that swirl around our flock of characters. And what sets The Children's Book apart from most other books I've read in recent years, what puts it in a different stratosphere, is Byatt's ability to galvanise all her analysis, her historical research, her wonderful use of well-known figures of the time into something altogether new. The power of her descriptive writing made me feel like I was right there at the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris, or in the dark shadows of a German puppet theatre. Of particular delight was her exploration of different fairy tales, how Grimm's Cinderella was the misshapen-twin-in-the-attic to Disney's technicolour offering to the world.

This book has something for everyone. It is also quite possibly, the BEST value-for-money read out there. And I cringe to think we spent the equivalent buying Carlos Ruiz Zafon's The Angel's Game, which as David put it, is Dan Brown in Barcelona.

So. Read it, read it, read it. Certainly some of the best few afternoons and evenings spent in my life :)

A(n Almost) Mid-Year Book Revue

I can't believe it's almost June, and that it's been more than two months since I last posted a book review. Now that Jordy's nights are mostly settled, and he's pretty great at playing on his own on occasion, I've had more of a chance to get stuck into some good reading, even when he's not napping in the daytime! (Picture this: Just after breakfast, Jordy spends twenty minutes moving from toy to toy, babbling to each and chilling out, while mum enjoys a cup of tea and a short but intense read. HEAVEN! I don't know long this phase will last but I am relishing it while I can...)

Anyway, in between re-reading collections of Baby Blues and Get Fuzzy I borrow from the library, as well as the baby food bible by Annabel Karmel, here's a quick camel revue of what's kept me going cerebrally these past months:

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Recommended to me by MIL extraordinaire, I couldn't put this book down. The blurb on the dust cover didn't sound too promising. Just wasn't something I would normally pick up, but I am SO GLAD I DID. The book retells the story of the Old Testament's Dinah, daughter of Jacob (brother of Esau and son of Isaac) and sister of Joseph (yes, he of the technicolour dreamcoat fame). In the bible, Dinah's story is almost a footnote; she is taken (in the Biblical sense) by an Egyptian prince, and her brothers avenge her honour. In The Red Tent, Diamant gives voice to many of the women in Genesis: Dinah, her mothers Leah and Rachel, her grandmother Rebecca, and Sarah before her. The themes of family, sisterhood, motherhood, loyalty, diaspora, autonomy and the self are all given voice by the different characters. The most compelling thing about the book was just the level of research Diamant had obviously done when describing the rituals, myths, beliefs and general day-to-day living of the characters. I've since found out this is a perennial book club favourite and I can see why. Loved it.

Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama
I think this is the first autobiography I've ever read. If you don't count the Diary of Anne Frank and Boy by Roald Dahl. I started reading it when Adrian and Sally were staying with us (they had a copy) and was hooked from the first page. Excellent prose, and made me think very nostalgically of The West Wing. In fact, now that there is nothing to watch on TV anymore, I think it's time for our annual re-visit of all seven seasons. Bring it on!


Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall by Kazuo Ishiguro
Jordy's Mothers' Day gift to me. Thank you, you psychic baby! Interconnected short stories by the true master of the fallible narrator, this absolutely did not disappoint. The trademark first person narrators were a leitmotif, along with the themes of recalibrated dreams, ambition and resulting determination, all set to a beautiful sonorous prose. The whole thing felt... autumnal. More so than The Remains of the Day if that's possible!


The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
Slightly tougher to read than the others, but well worth it. Verbally dazzling prose - the most original writing I've come across in some time. Pretty much in the genre of American immigrant writing, the story revolves around the lives of the unfortunate protagonist Dominican-American Oscar, his sister, his mother and her father. It deals with the harrowing history of the Dominican Republic under dictator supreme Trujillo, and the resulting diaspora to the US. It transcends your typical immigrant story because of the fresh mode of telling (which, without giving away too much, makes use of a copious amount of footnotes!). I also love the fact that the narrator is a manic, LOTR-quoting yet hot-blooded male. May not be everyone's cup of tea, but I really enjoyed it in the end.

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
Wonderful. Visceral. Unputdownable. Can't believe I never read it till now. Developed a minor crush on Mr Bourdain halfway through the book, then made the mistake of googling him, and realising that he's since divorced his highschool sweetheart Nancy, and shacked up with a woman half his age. They have a young daughter too. But back to the book. Now I know never to order mussels from most restaurants, never order fish on a Monday, and I'm never looking at Hollandaise the same way again.

Just Another Kid by Torey Hayden
Yet another book I would not normally read. From recollection, this is from my cousin J (thanks so much). Never really felt in the mood to read it, then spotted it two days ago on the bookshelf next to my love/hate Gina Ford The Contented Little Baby Book (I'd filed it under parenting you see). Well, this booked knocked me out! By knock out, I mean, I was stealing away to read a page here and there over the last days and managed to finish it this morning while Jordy was conducting an experiment involving his buzzy bee and an empty yogurt container. Written by a special ed teacher and child psychologist, it's a memoir of a year she spent teaching six special needs kids somewhere in the US. Particularly interesting as the book is highly contextual (written in 1988) and three of the kids she teaches were sent to live with relatives in America from Belfast, where they were traumatised from living right in the midst of the troubles in Northern Ireland. Can't believe the amount of non-fiction I am getting through these days. S-t-r-a-n-g-e but true!

Fables: Animal Farm by Bill Willingham
I started this comic series at series 2 I know. But then, Page One had run out of Series 1 and D had gotten me a couple for my birthday and I so badly wanted them and you get the idea. Anyway, I LIKE! Can't wait to get stuck into it again (Thanks A for lending me the first series so I can get the proper back story).

What am I going to read next?

Think it's more Baby Blues tonight, and think I'll also read the graphic novel Waltz with Bashir. D said it was pretty powerful, then I might read a book D borrowed from his boss called The Impressionist, or maybe some Neil Gaiman: Fragile Things (Thanks Sandy!)?

A Mothers' Day Birthday

Look at the gorgeously colourful spread of fruit, courtesy of Carrie and Mano! Jordy seemed rather nonplussed until he tasted strawberries and kiwis for the first time. Ker-ching!

I love the fact that Jordy turned nine months on Mothers' Day. Mothers' Day marked the moment he has been traipsing on this earth for longer than he was swirling around in ye olde belly. So apt, eh?

Anyway we started the day with a most lovely picnic with Mano and Carrie at new favourite hangout Labrador Park. The skies were portentous and threatening, and even spat a few drops of rain as we entered the carpark. But we decided to stay on and play things by ear just in case it cleared up, and I'm so glad we did! The weather turned out perfect for a picnic and a walk in the end.

Hiiiii...

We encountered all manner of bugs, saw some big ships and waves, the dog was walked and the baby slept. It was kinda perfect.

It got even more perfect when D looked after Jordy while I went for my first facial SINCE JORDY WAS BORN. From going every few weeks to a nine-month hiatus. Let's just say my facial lady greeted me with a very diplomatic, "Wah, Dora, ni gai bian le hen duo" (i.e. Wow Dora, you've err, CHANGED!"). I decided to take it in the best possible spirit and just blob out while she did her thing. Loverly!

Then it was on to gong gong and mama's for a Mothers' Day family barbeque and Ramly-burger-esque feast in the backyard. Much meat was had and even a salad or two. Aunty Aida displayed her magical cooking abilities to full effect and we even had a family ukelele jam, while Jordy bounced up and down on dad's legs.

Sizzles and strums

Jordy was happy enough hanging out in the playpen, munching on his new teething feeder. Thanks to Carrie for getting it from Robinsons! He really likes sucking on cold grapes and just today, I tried out some chilled strawberry as well and he loved that too!

Kampong boys

Then it was time for the mums to gather round and be feted (or rather, to cut the most excellent ice cream mudpie from Island Creamery).

ps: Thank you to Jordy for getting me the best Mothers' Day present! Kazuo Ishiguro's new book, Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall. I'm about halfway through it already and it is FABULOUS.

Mothers (and one toddler) of the world unite!

The Secret Scripture

I read this in a day, and felt a mixture of elation and sorrow when it ended.

Elation, because the novel was an exercise in Irish lyricism, language so beautiful that it brought to mind Yeats; sorrow because the content of the novel was a harrowing account of life in rural Ireland in the early part of the century, and dealt deftly on the themes of feminism, female sexuality and madness (which are often seen as one and the same eh?), religion, politics (learnt a lot about the history of the IRA and the Irish civil war) and a misogyny insidiously prevalent in Irish societal norms at the time.

What I liked best was the duelling narrative of Roseanne Clear, an almost 100-year old woman who has lived in a mental asylum for the last 60 over years, and Dr William Grene, the resident psychiatrist in the asylum who, under pressure from the public, has to assess the various geriartic patients to see who amongst them are really mentally ill and should be moved to the new but smaller hospital premises, and who is well enough to be released to the community. What their narratives uncover is a small family tragedy, made all the more poignant as one can imagine it repeated in various small communities across the emerald isle.

The only small criticism I have is the plot contrivance at the end, a twist I saw coming when I was about a third into the book. Compeletely improbable, and a bit too neat, I felt. But that's a very small niggle in the face of such an immensely well-written novel.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

I finished Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist during Jordy's afternoon nap today. I'm a bit ambivalent about it. The book is written in the darkly charming voice of a 20-something year-old Pakistani - an Ivy Leaguer and once succesful executive in Manhattan - as he sits having a meal with an unnamed American tourist in a cafe in Lahore. As he reveals his story, we come to see how the events of 9/11 cause him to reconsider issues of identity, loyalty and the pursuit of the American dream.

On one hand, the literature student in me applauds the clever use of a fallible, unreliable narrator and the story-within-a-story plot device. I also liked the anachronistic voice of the narrator, all colonial discourse in the midst of 21st century terrorism.

But though I started out expecting to be moved by the book, I was strangely numb at the end of it. I suspect it's because the novel was so sparely written, and the tension so well-wrought that by the end of the ride, I felt like I could breathe again, and that somehow distanced me from the issues explored in the book.

Definitely worth reading, but for me, it wasn't really a standalone experience, I needed to talk to someone about it (in this case, D, who loved it) to get my head around this book. I'm still uncertain what to make of the ending, but have a definite theory on what the last few paragraphs imply. If you've read this book and have a view, I'd really love to hear it!

One book that really got to me was Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road. It affected me on so many levels, but most so on the motherhood front. I'm embarassed to admit I only heard of the book because of the movie, but am so glad I read it. Very powerful, and Yates' ability to write incisive dialogue that just cuts through to the heart of the matter is quite wondrous. Can't wait to watch the movie, but think I'll wait till it's out on DVD.

Think I'm going to read The Carpet Wars next, in celebration of the Jordy carpet from Godpa James!

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Thanks to (Jordy's Godpa) James' recommendation, my 2009 reading habit has started on a most auspicious note.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, by the previously unknown-to-me American writer Carson McCullers, not only has one of the most beautiful titles in all of novel-dom, it also has one of the most interesting central characters I've encountered.

Published in 1940, the novel is set in in a small Southern town, and follows the life and thoughts of five characters - a deaf mute named John Singer; Biff, the owner of a restaurant, an African American doctor called Copeland; Jake, a Communist instigator and a young girl called Mick Kelly.

The central theme is obvious from the title, but the impact and profundity of the novel lies in the character of John Singer. Each of the other characters see him as their own personal saviour, a blank canvas (or a silent room more like) whom they can freely to share their innermost thoughts and personal secrets with. Each of the characters has their own cross to bear, each is, to borrow a term from Theroux, quietly desperate in their own way. Their loneliness compels them to act, to find their own personal therapy, which in each case, turns out to be regular visitations with Singer. It helps that Singer can read lips and demonstrates an innate understanding of their demons, and the means to calm their thoughts. And this is where the gut-wrenching impact of the book lies, that though Singer is a lifeline for these troubled souls, his generosity of the soul is never reciprocated. Not because the other characters are conceited, but simply because they don't see that Singer himself is entombed in own silent loneliness.

The novel explores loneliness in all guises, the schism a coming-of-age teen feels trapped in an impoverished family, a husband who grieves for what his marriage could have been, two men who are driven to despair because of their beliefs. It also tackles issues of racism, very much remeniscent of To Kill a Mockingbird.

And the most astounding thing? Carson McCullers wrote the novel when she was just 23. To say this book oozes wisdom is not an exaggeration. It's just joined the ranks of my favourite books of all time. Can't recommend it highly enough.

I've been so wrapped up in chronicling the life and times of Jordy that I realise it's been far too long since I did a post on books!

Anyway, here goes. In between honing my skills as the Vaudeville act that is Jordy's mom, and resident cook and organiser of all-things-Christmas, I have actually managed to read a bit. Nope, I'm still in the middle of Great Expectations, but have actually finished a few lighter things.

I was rather disappointed with Linda Grant's 2008 Man Booker shortlisted The Clothes on their Backs. I've been eyeing this book for a long time mainly cos I loved the cover, but in the end, the promise was greater than what was delivered.

The simple storyline was promising: a young girl of Hungarian Jewish (refugee) stock grows up in the tumultous '70s in London. How her quiet life is turned on its head with the discovery of a notorious uncle - what are his secrets? why the discord between her parents and the glamorous Uncle Sandor? how did he get the scars on his back, etc etc.

However, I felt the novel couldn't quite decide what it wanted to be. Was it an insight into the horrors of life in the labour camps during the war in Hungary? Or a tale that centred around the growing pains and moral awakening of an opaque narrator? An extended metaphor for how one's clothes and identity are inextricably linked?

The novel jumped around between any of these strands rather jarringly. Is it me or is the quality of the Man Booker list slowly eroding? What we really need is a new Kasuo Ishiguro or a Peter Carey ala My Life as a Fake. Or something as original as The Life of Pi.

Anyway, I've also become horribly addicted to the cheesy vampire Twilight saga. Rather embarassing but even though the writing is so bad, the plot is so strangely compelling!!! Truly a guilty pleasure. I'm on to book three of the saga and while I'm in the middle of these books, think Great Expectations will just have to wait!

Our Little Conchord Loves to Dance

Yay, it's official! Our little man is a Flight of the Conchords fan! This was the scene that greeted me when I emerged from my shower this morning, Jordy giggling while D was dancing with his rattle to Flight of the Conchords! Argh too cute for words!

We had a great weekend - went for a nice brunch at Cafe Beviamo yesterday (alas their menu has changed and prices have been jacked up 10 - 20%). But food and coffee are still very good. We were meant to go for Jordy's cousin's kindergarten graduation concert, but most unfortunately, my sister's kids are down with suspected HFMD! Poor, poor things! We passed them the wonderful DVDs Mama Maree brought with her from New Zealand, so hopefully that will occupy them for a few hours while they recuperate!


So instead of heading to Victoria Theatre, we went to Borders (where for the first time in my life, I bought a parenting magazine... HELP! but don't blame me, they had a really good article on weaning, and Borders was having a big magazine discount sale for members!). I bought two books from the Man Booker prize shortlist, The Secret Scripture and The Clothes on Their Backs. Can't wait to get into them. And... we also got a DVD. The most supremely awesome music movie, Once. Watch the goosebump inducing song Falling Slowly on Youtube here. It's the most lyrical tribute to music and friendship I've ever seen - anyone that's ever sung, harmonised or played music with a friend will know what I mean!

Twilight time chez Turnip

After Borders, we officially entered the realm of the Singaporean Experience, and took Jordy for a jaunt at the new Changi Airport Terminal 3! We saw our doppelgangers there... A couple with an empty stroller and an infant in a Baby Bjorn! In fact we saw this repeated in many permutations. The terminal is so huge that we actually managed quite a good walk, taking in the viewing galleries, the shopping levels and the wide expanses of space at the Arrivals and Departure halls. Seemed to us that day visitors outnumbered actual travellers. Oh and the Parents Rooms at the airport are by far the cleanest we've seen...

Then it was home and our movie night while Jordy slept his day's adventures away.

A perfect day really.

The Top 100 Books

Here are the Top 100 Books as rated by the Telegraph (thanks to Lauren for blogging about this). For some reason, I'm rather heartened that most of my favourite books are listed there (like the sublime Cloud Atlas), and that I've read 69 out of the 100, and the ones I haven't read, I probably will never get through (sorry, have tried to get into Moby Dick at least three times and never got past the first few chapters).

I have just started Great Expectations though - so in a few weeks (my reading pace has slowed down since a certain little friend arrived in our lives!) I can check 70 of the list!

The happiest inclusion for me must have to be The Faraway Tree series by Enid Blyton. I still recall vividly the land of eat-all-you-want. That chapter partially shaped my world view. I mean... they got to have their seven cakes and eat them all!

Zipped through this one...

Yay, am back in literary land again! This came highly recommended by D's mum and we both just zipped through it! For those of you who have read Tremain's other stuff, you'll know she's more a historical fiction kinda person. I've only read "Music and Silence" and "Restoration" before, and enjoyed them immensely, but this is a total departure, and a welcome departure it is, too.

Set in present day Britain, The Road Home traces the journey of Lev, an immigrant from an unnamed (fictitious?) Eastern Euporean country in search of work. With nothing left to lose except the few pounds he raised to make the journey to the UK, Lev's story is one which hundreds of people make across the EU, and the world, everyday.

Tremain explores the different motivations people have for leaving all that is familiar to them for the allures of the city or more developed countries. Of course, the bright lights of the city are more mirage than reality, and Lev soon comes face-to-face with the gritty, often bewildering situations that London living entails.

In Lev, you have an Everyman whom you want to have end up a success story. The future he eventually carves for himself is also very gradually hinted at, and the choices he makes and the people he meets are realistically and compellingly portrayed, though you are aware that here is an ordinary man who is leading, or going to lead, a rather extraordinary life.

Highly recommended if you are looking for an accessible story to lose yourself in.

A Time for Rest and a New Lexicon

Moonrise over Telok Blangah Hill, taken from our living room.

Finally, a Sunday spent at home! We've been recovering from a steady stream of visitors, and all the associated eating, drinking and merry-making that goes with hosting friends and family. Was a fantastic few weeks, and I guess now we (and Zorgy) are ready for a bit of rest.

In between having visitors, we also managed to run a whole bunch of Zorg-related errands, and think we're now 85% ready for our new flatmate. Nobody ever tells you that preparing for baby requires absorbing a whole new lexicon - from wonderful words like layette, onesie, receiving blanket, to scarier sounding sci-fi terms like meconium, vernix and episiotomy. Oh and I'll never view the word "show" in the same light again.

I've also found it strange how I am finding it increasingly difficult to settle down to read a book. My bedtime ritual has now shifted to reading one page of the pregnancy bibles What to Expect when you're Expecting and What to Expect: The First Year, or to completing a quick puzzle in a magazine. The last book I managed to read in its entirety (over two months ago now) was Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. An immensely satisfying novel about the Nigerian civil war (and the quest for an independent Biafran state) of the 1960s. Attempted to read a few other books (I'm one or two chapters into Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, A Spot of Bother and A True History of the Kelly Gang) after that, but nothing seemed to compare and hence, it's been a weird time of non-fiction and bits and bobs.

Ah well, I'm now into my 30th week and counting! Weight gain so far: 11.8kg! Yikes. Stuff accumulated, one-cot size worth of necessary accessories. Still to come: baby bedding stuff and DVDs for mom to tide her through the first few months of breastfeeding. Am thinking all (however many) seasons of The Gilmore Girls, and the new Battlestar Galactica (sounds like the closest thing to The West Wing yet). Any suggestions and parenting tips welcome!

Post-Norwegian Wood Blues

I finished Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood last night, and am now suffering slight depression, I think.

I'm normally a pretty fast reader, but I lingered over every word of this unusual, beautiful, gem of a novel. I'm struggling to articulate why I loved it so much, but I think it boils down to the fact it contains all the attributes I look for in a good read.

1. It captures a time, place and mood to perfection. Tokyo, 1969, comes alive with such life and colour that you yearn and keen for it.

2. Characters grow and learn through tragedy, but the novel itself is not tragic.

3. Music is woven through the story seamlessly, and you can almost hear the soundtrack to the book as you read on. John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Ravel, Brahms. I was first reminded of The Virgin Suicides (excellent as well, but just not in the same league as this), then of the puny-by-comparison An Equal Music by Vikram Seth, which did have a companion soundtrack to boot. If Norwegian Wood went down that path, it would seriously kick some ass.

4. The story is underscored by a quiet symbolism - the balance of the mind, for example, reflected in the serenity of nature, or lack thereof. I was reminded about what so moved me when I was in Tokyo earlier this year.

5. I was lured into the story, I cared for the characters, I didn't want the novel ever to end. I read the last few pages so slowly, like how you'd want to prolong one of those great late night conversations with old friends. That's the kind of book Norwegian Wood was for me.

I don't know if it's everyone's thing, but this book is one of my top reads to date. Can't recommend it highly enough.