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My first foray into Latin American literature is with Gabriel García Marquez's works. Now, after reading my first Bolaño, I find a growing interest in discovering works from other authors of this region. More than anything, I loved the ease with which the prose flows. It's been awhile since I read Marquez (something I'm going to have to rectify within the next month. I think it's time to read One Hundred Years of Solitude again) but I remember being very enamored with the way he wrote. At the risk of sounding cliche, it really did felt like I was being transported. I experienced the same thing while I was reading By Night in Chile.

The novella is Sebastian Urrutia Lacroix's stream of consciousness as he lies in his deathbed. As such, the main challenge in reading By Night in Chile is contending with the lack of paragraphs. It would certainly be do-able to read this book in one sitting but since I didn't have the time (and attention span) to do so, I read it over the course of a few days. So, whenever I have to pick up where I left off, I find that I had to read the previous pages again to get back into it. Other than that, the prose is so beautiful and lyrical and it's easy to immerse yourself into the book.

The book explores heavy themes as Sebastian looks back on his life. Sebastian wears many hats. He is a Chilean priest, a literary critic and a 'failed' poet, moving primarily in the intellectual and artistic circles of Chile. As he relays the history of his life to clear up some points to the 'wizened youth' that seems to be terrorizing him at the end of his life, it becomes clear that he is complicit in allowing the dictator Pinochet's rise to power.

In the midst of the social turmoil he escapes into Greco-Roman poetry. Pinochet's junta commissions his assistance in tutoring them in Marxism to 'better understand their enemies', to which Sebastian accepts. While the country was undergoing curfews, he attends Maria Canales' soirées in her home, not once asking how she could afford to have the frequent gatherings without attracting trouble. Throughout all these, Sebastian seems to imply that he had no choice in the matter and that he didn't see anything wrong with what he was doing at that time.

By Night in Chile is a criticism of the nonchalance that 'intellectuals' display during times of social upheaval. As long as they are safe in their mansions, they turn a blind eye on the troubles that surround their country. I do not pretend to know much about this time in Chile's history but I can see a resemblance in the way some people in my country choose to remain apolitical during difficult times. Admittedly, the comparison is loose and hard to defend. After all, the CIA was heavily involved in Allende being ousted (despite being democratically elected) and Pinochet's subsequent rise to power. Sometimes, it feels like the people in my country don't need the CIA's interference. This country will elect a right-wing dictator out of their own volition.

All that aside, I'm sure I've spoiled a lot already but there are a couple of things in the novel that really stand out to me (whether because of its imagery or the message it provides). Without giving too much away:

A falcon bringing down the white dove (Picasso's dove)
The basement in Canales' house
The wizened youth
Pinochet being tutored Marxism
Sebastian turning away from the peasants

I'm glad this is is my first Bolaño. I'd love to read this again in the future when I have learned more about Chile's history and have read more of Bolaño's works.

This is the third installment in Robinson's Gilead series, this time focusing on Ames' wife - her past and her early relationship with Ames. Just like the previous two books in the series, Lila is an introspective book. It is filled with compassion and is surprisingly philosophical as Lila grapples with religion and how she can reconcile it with the hardships that she has witnessed and experienced.

Although there were moments in the novel that I felt like I understood what emotion Robinson was trying to evoke, it nevertheless fell short of really making me care enough about Lila. I think this is a case of right book, wrong time. I felt like I was distracted while reading it and I couldn't summon the correct feeling that the book required from me. I found it a bit long-winded and a tad emotional.

It feels unfair to say all that because Lila is an interesting character. So much of the novel is her holding on to her sadness and her past.

[...] how strange and alone she felt, and wanted to feel [...]

This insistence on grief would be frustrating if it didn't feel raw and real. Lila lives her life as if she's afraid to be comfortable and happy. In her head she is under the constant scrutiny of Doll, her adoptive mother. What she imagines Doll would think or say dictates her own thoughts and actions. Through this she justifies staying in Gilead even when she has the constant urge to run away and leave. It's almost as if she's afraid to have her own desires.

When she thought this way, she could almost begin to enjoy her life. She was stealing it, almost, to give it to Doll. People might think she liked the old man's house and the Boughton's clothes and all the proprieties and courtesies. They might think she liked the old man, too. But she just imagined how all of it would seem to Doll - a very good life, a comfortable life that she had because Doll had stolen her, and had taken care of her all those years.

Lila spends a lot of her time thinking about the life she has led thus far. She is plagued by the absurdity of existence - that bad things can happen to other people and it would mean nothing to the world at large. That terrible things can happen to you and the laws of nature would not fall apart.

How could it be that none of it mattered? It was most of what happened. But if it did matter, how could the world go on the way it did when there were so many people living the same and worse? Poor was nothing, tired and hungry were nothing. But people only trying to get by, and no respect for them at all, even the wind soiling them. No matter how proud and hard they were, the wind making their faces run with tears. That was existence, and why didn't it roar and wrench itself apart like the storm it must be, if so much of existence is all that bitterness and fear? Even now, thinking of the man who called himself her husband, what if he turned away from her? It would be nothing. What if the child was no child? There would be an evening and a morning. The quiet of the world was terrible to her, like mockery. She had hoped to put an end of these thoughts, but they returned to her, and she returned to them.

You can probably tell from the quote above that Lila's thoughts can sometimes be hard to follow. There are truths that she knows but can't quite articulate. After spending more time with her and knowing her story, it becomes easier to understand but there are still moments where I've found it hard to get a grip on what she was trying to say. I think that may have contributed to my inability to fully immerse myself in the book.

I think some of the most beautiful parts of the novel is seeing Ames and Lila's affection for each other. It's a subdued kind of love and a little hard to picture but it's one of the things that stood out to me in the novel. I think Robinson is really good at writing about love in all its forms (the love of a parent being one of the best things about Gilead and Home, for example). The tail end of the book summarizes the nuance of their relationship pretty well for me.

"I'm going to make us some more coffee. Did I ever say that? That I love you? I always thought it sounded a little foolish. But the way you talk, sometime I might regret putting it off."

"I believe you said it a minute ago. You can't love me as much as you do love me. Something to that effect. Which I thought was interesting." He said, "All those years, were you as sad as you were sad? As lonely as you were lonely? I wasn't."

"Me neither. I'd have died of it."

I re-read Milkman because a girl I followed recently on social media mentioned loving it. I read this years ago and I don't have fond memories of it. I remember it was hard to get through - confusing without being rewarding. I read some reviews of it yesterday and I think most people have the same sentiment. Incidentally, there is something very entertaining about reading negative reviews. Someone likened this book to getting a root canal, which is a painful way to describe any art form and would have deterred me from re-reading this book had I read the review prior to starting the book. I think people just have more to say when they dislike something and the transparency of their rage if quite funny to me. I wish I could join in on the fun but I can't since I actually had a good experience reading Milkman the second time around.

It is true that the narrative voice in Milkman is confusing. The sentences run on and on, the paragraphs and chapters are long and it's hard to find a good break off point. Places and people are not named in this book. Instead, there are descriptors used as placeholders to refer to things. These all compound to make a lyrical and engaging prose. It can take awhile to get used to. You might even have to re-read it at some point but I think this thing that most people don't like about it is one of it's strongest points.

Even though it's not explicitly mentioned, it's easy to infer that the book is set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. It's fascinating to me that it's been mostly lauded for capturing the atmosphere of that time perfectly. I don't pretend to understand what it must feel like to live in a time of heightened surveillance (from the state, the community and even from yourself) but while reading Milkman, I felt that I could glimpse the exhaustion and paranoia it afford in the way middle sister, the main character, responds to her situation.

Milkman can be a frustrating read not least because of middle sister. She is often frozen in place, a passive participant who lets things happen to her instead of making decisions and acting on it. She shields herself with silence and numbness, feeds the gossip mill by refusing to explain her side of the story. It's hard to fault her for this because the few instances where she explains herself, she is met with disbelief or dismissal. As the story progresses, middle sister is forced to face the consequences of her inactions.

The truth was dawning on me of how terrifying it was not to be numb, but to be aware, to have facts, retain facts, be present, be adult.

I was coming up against the ambivalences in life.

Despite the bleakness, Milkman still manages to end on a positive note. There is love, hope and freedom to look forward to.

This is my second Hobb and if I had to compare, I think I might like this better than Ship of Magic. Unlike Ship of Magic where there are a lot of characters to keep track, Assassin's Apprentice is mostly confined to Fitz, a royal bastard. Fitz' position is a precarious one as he has to prove himself useful to the king while being despised by those who are vying for the throne.

I am surprised at how the book ended. I thought there would be a more long-haul plot seeing as this is a trilogy but it seemed to tie up its strings by the end of the novel. There were some things that were vague (perhaps purposefully, since it will play a bigger role in the succeeding books?) but overall, if I didn't know beforehand that this was a trilogy, I would never have expected it to have a continuation.

This makes me even more intrigued to read the second book. Are we focusing on Fitz again? Is there another angle to the royal intrigue? I think I would enjoy it if we were to get Fitz as the protagonist again. I liked following along in his journey and seeing how he interacts with his guardians and mentors.

I find it difficult to pinpoint exactly what I liked about this. I think there is something about the way Hobb writes that flows really well. There is a focus on the humanity of the characters rather than the specifics of the magic system. I think I avoided fantasy novels for so long because I thought the characters fall second to the world-building. Hobb manages to avoid this - her characters are crafted well without letting the story fall to the wayside.

Le Guin imagines a world, Gethen, where humans are androgynous for the most part, except during a small window of time (Kemmer) where they turn into either male or female. Genly Ai is an envoy from Ekumen - a group of worlds which have come together to exchange knowledge and technology. He is tasked to propose to the Gethenians that they join the Ekumen. The difference in culture and lack of defined sex pose as a barrier to Ai's mission. While he seems adept at trying to fit in a foreign society and learning their ways, his inherent misogyny prevents him from trusting the one Gethenian that has been championing his cause.

Though I had been nearly two years on Winter I was still far from being able to see the people of the planet through their own eyes. I tried to, but my efforts took the form of self-consciously seeing Gethenian first as a man, then as a woman, forcing him into these categories so irrelevant to his nature and so essential to my own.

There are lots of clues pointing to Ai's misogyny, some more subtle than the others. He primarily uses the pronoun 'he' to refer to every person in position of power that he meets. As a reader, it is almost easy to forget that we are dealing with beings who do not have a defined sex because our narrator insists on referring to them as men. He is also quick to disdain any qualities that he deems 'feminine' which clouds his perception of Estraven even though Estraven is the only one who has stayed with him to see his mission through. When Estraven asks him how different females are from other worlds, Ai's misogyny is even more stark. Sure, he tries to be diplomatic but he does not sound convincing and quickly drops the subject.

There isn't much in the way of exploring how Gethenians' androgyny dictates their society . What little is revealed is mentioned somewhat in passing and I found it hard to get a clear grasp of how this lack of defined sex affects how their society operates. In this sense, this novel is less a thought experiment and more an investigation of our biases about gender and sexuality.

Another interesting thing that this novel explores is the concept of patriotism. Ai finds it difficult to sell his mission to the King of Karhide so he travels to Orgoreyn, a separate nation in Gethen, in hopes of finding a more sympathetic ear. After all, it matters less which nation accepts Ekumen first since the other nations will naturally follow. Here he is met with bureaucracy and covert intentions. As he travels with Estraven to escape prison, he asks Estraven if they hate Orgoreyn, Estraven answers:

Hate Orgoreyn? No, how should I? How does one hate a country, or love one? Tibe talks about it; I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one’s country; is it hate of one’s uncountry? Then it’s not a good thing. Is it simply self-love? That’s a good thing, but one mustn’t make a virtue of it, or a profession… Insofar as I love life, I love the hills of the Domain of Estre, but that sort of love does not have a boundary-line of hate. And beyond that, I am ignorant, I hope.

And yet when given the choice for a hideout, Estraven says, "I'd rather be in Karhide." Estraven has shown that they are loyal to humankind as a whole rather than specifically to Karhide or its monarchy. This coexists with his preference for Karhide over Orgoreyn.

The latter half of the novel is filled with descriptive imagery of the planet's wintry landscape. It serves as a backdrop to the characters' perilous journey making it both beautiful and terrifying. Le Guin has a way with words that transport you, as if you are embarking on the journey yourself. Ultimately, the novel ends in a hopeful note. Ai's ship bearing other members of the Ekumen descends on Gethen. Faxe, a foreteller who motivates Ai to see his mission through, remarks, "I'm glad I have lived to see this." The same words spoken by Estraven, as he was traveling through Ice, unsure of his survival.

I really enjoyed this novel. Perhaps a little less than the other Hainish Cycle novels but I am psyched to finish it all.

I hate to dismiss an entire genre but I think romance just doesn't work for me.

I understand the beauty and tragedy of yearning but I couldn't summon any feelings for the story or the characters. It seemed pointless to me that we had to be introduced to the main character through the eyes of a different (and almost inconsequential) man. A lot of words were wasted on our narrator's circumstances when it has no bearing to the actual meat of the story. I would have been willing to overlook this if the rest of the story was any good, which unfortunately it wasn't.

Much of the story is told through a notebook written by Raif, the protagonist, which circumstances has led the narrator to read. In here we find out about Raif's past romance - the main reason why Raif appears to be a husk of a man. There were a few lines that stuck with me but other than that it was just a tedious read. Instead of the notebook justifying Raif's character, all it did to me was to emphasize how empty Raif was even before his failed romance. He doesn't have much of a personality or drive outside of his romantic involvement. It was a bit pathetic to read. The object of his affections was equally dull. I just don't see the love and affection that Raif insists is there. I felt that they were both boring and co-dependent.

Sometimes I wonder at what people consider romantic. To me this seems to be the most pathetic form that love can take. I could also see the end from a mile away so even the storytelling I felt left a lot to be desired. Perhaps I read this at the wrong time in my life?

First book of the year! It didn't quite fit the season but I had a good time reading it.

Our protagonist is Mieczysław Wojnicz, a young man sent by his father to a sanatorium in the mountains to recuperate from tuberculosis. Here he consorts with other guests in the Guesthouse for Gentlemen as they wait for a vacancy in the sanatorium. The bulk of the novel involves these men's "intellectual" conversations. Their chief topic is primarily their perceived inferiority of women compared to men. No matter their initial topic, they always seem to circle back to the question of women: are they deserving of respect or not? There are some crazy takes here that would have pissed me off if there wasn't a pervading sense that Tokarczuk is looking down on these characters. This is further reinforced by Tokarczuk's author's note at the end of the novel. The author's note honestly made me laugh out loud, especially since it came completely out of the blue. All these conversations take place in an eerie backdrop, a persistent feeling that something is wrong or about to go wrong.

The novel culminates in a fantastical scene where men are forcibly lead to the the forest, pied piper of Hamelin-style, and one of them is chosen as a sacrifice to appease the spirits. I read somewhere that Tokarczuk wrote this book out of spite and the ending does feel like a revenge. After the inane drivel from these men that we are forced to read, there is some satisfaction to be got from the ending. However, much of the action comes from the latter half of the novel, which may bother some readers.

Personally, I find that there is much to enjoy even in the quieter moments of the book. Early on I found Wojnicz to be a relatable character. He has an obsession with being observed by other people, imagining that someone is looking through holes in the wall or taking note of how he moves and presents himself. It is later revealed that this obsession stems from the fear of his secret being revealed. Wojnicz is in fact intersex but presents himself as a man. His father insists on manliness and tried hard throughout his childhood to suppress Wojnicz's feminine inclinations. While outwardly he appears as a man, isn't it an almost universal feminine experience to have a man in your head observing how you look, policing how you act? Wojnicz's desire to have a more 'appetizing' life I also found to be a painfully relatable. There is a lovely scene where he comes to terms with his condition and proceeds to buy macaroons in different colors and flavors. (Of course, I am not saying that these two things are a strictly feminine experience, nor that the feminine experience can be boiled down to these, but it was relevant to my own experience. Also, I refer to Wojnicz as 'him' because that is how he is referred to in the novel, even after it was revealed that he is intersex.)

Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain has been in my to-read list for a long time. Knowing that The Empusium is a novel borne out of Tocarczuk's anger and spite towards Mann's exclusion of women makes me want to read it even more, although now I am quite positive that it won't be a good experience.

This post is so delayed. I was considering not making one at all (and I haven't posted on instagram either like I normally would have done) but since I have time now, I figured why not. I'm not ranking them since I have not given this as much thought as I used to in the past years. In general, I read far less this year.

The Woman Destroyed by Simone de Beauvoir

I remember reading this and being completely in awe of how much I understood the characters, even when I have never been in the same position they were in. I came out of this feeling like there is a universal experience of womanhood, to a certain extent. I am sure that's not true and can be taken as reductive of other women's experiences but it's a testament to de Beauvoir's writing prowess that she can make one empathize so deeply with her characters that one can almost follow the vicissitudes of their inner self.

North Woods by Daniel Mason

This book features a big set of characters who are all connected by their relationship with a house in the woods of New England. The book spans centuries so it's interesting how one generation affects how the succeeding generations live, whether they know it or not. It's fascinating to see how the landscape changes and how it affects (and is affected by) the people who inhabit it. The image of the apple orchard is forever engraved in my head.

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

I love this book so much. It's a strong contender for top 1 if I were forced to rank these books. There is so much heart and tenderness in this novel. I am not a religious person at all but nevertheless felt that there was something beautiful about the way John Ames, the narrator, sees the world through the lens of his faith. I loved it so much that I immediately went and read the second book in the tetralogy. I was less impressed by that one, as it felt too winding without reaching a point. That does not dampen by enthusiasm for the series though and I am determined to finish it by this year.

Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead

I felt genuine excitement and thrill while reading this book. Much like Gilead, I also read the next installment as soon as I got hold of it. The second book did not disappoint but Harlem Shuffle is a more solid book, in my opinion. It's social commentary packaged in a fun heist. I was dismayed at how many people found this disappointing. From what i understand, they were looking for Ocean's 11 but got something else instead. Anyway, I'm glad I went into this blind because the experience was much more enjoyable that way.

The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin

Worlds of Exile and Illusion cemented my commitment to read anything of Le Guin that I can find so when I came across this book i just had to get it. It did not disappoint. I found the premise to be very interesting and it was executed very well. Le Guin does not offer solutions and it's fun to think about it long after you've finished the novel. I wrote a review of sorts here, if you're interested.

How many times am I going to claim that a book will be my last book for this year?

This isn't a thick book but I thought I wouldn't have much time to read for the rest of the week. However, I found myself completely glued into this book and it was hard for me to put down. I didn't even feel like playing video games because I just wanted to read. I think that should be enough recommendation.

What really drew me to it is the premise. It's about George Orr, a man whose dreams can alter reality. This makes him fear his dreams and so he resorts to abusing medication so he can keep himself from dreaming. When the authorities find out, he got assigned to a therapist, Dr. Haber, who quickly finds out that George can indeed create a new reality based on his dreams. Dr. Haber takes it upon himself to fix whatever he finds wrong in the world by making suggestions about George's dreams through hypnosis. One day he might suggest that George dream of a world without overpopulation, or a dream where there is no war on Earth. While these all seem good in theory, there is a monkey's paw quality to George's dreams. He often takes Dr. Haber's suggestions literally, such as creating a reality where there is no war on Earth because the war is taking place outside of Earth. As is common with dreams, George's dreams can be irrational. It's a power that cannot be harnessed to do what Dr. Haber envisions because George's dreams are out of his control and may even be heavily subject to his unconscious mind.

Dr. Haber insists that a power like George's must be utilized for good; he must strive to use it to solve the glaring problems that their world has. George insists that it is not ethical to play God, to decide between themselves what is good or not for the entire population. The novel concerns itself with action vs inaction, going with the flow or resisting the circumstances handed to you. Dr. Haber's methods are clearly presented as unethical in the novel. Dr. Haber supports eugenics because it supposedly ultimately leads to the greater good for humanity. He doesn't seem to find a problem with George's dream removing half of the world's population. However, I also find it hard to jump into George's idea that one must simply accept things as they are, that things will right themselves eventually.

I am sure there is some merit in acceptance but it is not the ethical approach I like to subscribe to. George doesn't go so far as to say that one must do nothing. He does say that it is too much for one man to go through alone. I think the novel, rather than presenting a solution, is a good thought experiment. it has a good mix of philosophy and science fiction.

So far, Le Guin has yet to disappoint me.

This marks my 26th book of this year (and perhaps my last). I read significantly less this year on account of The Incident but I'm not too bothered by it.

I had high expectations for this because I really enjoyed Harlem Shuffle (I think it might even be one of my top 5 books this year). I can't say I'm disappointed but I'm not too psyched about it either. Unlike Harlem Shuffle, I felt that sections in Crook Manifesto aren't as tightly bound together. Their connection seem to hinge more on reference or allusions. The first section with Munson promised a high-stakes, convoluted story but it kind of fizzled out as Munsoon and the is taken out of the story. The last section once again sets the story up for a more high-stakes game for the third installment, which I'm really looking forward to. It really felt like a transitional novel more than anything.

I read a review that said the series is like a social commentary disguised as a crime fiction novel. I think this is very apt. Carney sets the story in motion - his sense of justice, inability to hold a grudge, familial responsibility and loyalty lead him to situations that are not in-keeping with his straight persona. Equally important to the story is Pepper, who is a very intriguing character. While I enjoy Carney as a protagonist, Pepper's sections give a different point of view as he is privy to more of the Harlem's underworld. I especially enjoyed the fried chicken heist and I would not mind reading more of those silly, low-stakes heists.

I'd love to reread this again once the third book is out.

I admit I watched this purely because of the library scene so I had no idea that it was going to be a war movie. I think that kind of threw me off because I expected more romance and less trauma. Regardless, I still enjoyed this. I came away feeling sorry for Briony. I feel like it's easy to hate her and blame her for everything but I think it should also be considered that she was 13 years old when it happened and there is someone else, an adult (the chocolate man), who should have stepped in and cleared Robbie's name if he was a decent person.

The tension in the film was really palpable - Cecelia's and Robbie's sexual tension, Cecelia's tension with her family and especially Briony. The first half of the movie set in their mansion was really beautiful and scenic. I kind of wish there were more of that and less of the war but that would have been a completely different movie.

I finally finished Embassytown. As mentioned in one of my previous posts, I feel unqualified to talk about it. I think I spaced out my reading too much and at some point I really was just reading it to finish it. This is through no fault of the novel. I think the premise is inventive and unique. I cannot fathom how Mieville even came up with the setting. I think only he could have came up with something like this.

This really is just a bad case of right book, wrong time. I also think I should have gotten a physical copy of it instead of reading it on my kindle. I think aside from motivating me to read it more consistently, the way Language was formatted would have been easier on the eyes (if that makes sense).

I have read some discussions saying that the latter half of the book felt a little rushed. I did likewise feel that the pacing was a little off. There was so much being said leading up to the central conflict and the resolution was so quick in comparison.

I wish Mieville's books were easier to find where I live. I think I don't give his novels the time and dedication that it deserves because I only ever read it on my Kindle.

I finished it!

I really thought I'd be reading this until the end of the year because it's such a thick book. Despite its length, it's not a daunting read at all. The story maintains a consistent pace and it never got too slow. It really feels as if every scene serves a purpose - whether to set the story in motion or to allow us to get to know the characters. I could see it benefiting from some trimming but even with it's current length, I would still say it's great as it is.

The latter half of the book really ups the ante. It starts to feel like a more mature book. It's easy to summarize it as a novel about ships and pirates but that really fails to capture the depth of the book's themes. Wintrow's journey is especially poignant, oftentimes heart-wrenching and seemingly hopeless. I can't help but hope that he comes out in the end as fundamentally unchanged in his love and faith. This seems a tall order since he is set to come face-to-face with Kennit, one of the most vile characters in the novel. There is no doubt that an even bigger change is going to happen to Wintrow.

There isn't much that I can deduce from what little is relayed about the serpents but that makes them more intriguing. I am looking forward the next installment in the series and what it says about the cryptic serpents and their relationship to liveships (or just Vivacia?).

Overall, this really made me fall in love with Fantasy as a genre. I've avoided it for so long because I had the mistaken impression that it would be juvenile. I am clearly very wrong since the Ship of Magic is able to talk about slavery, family and faith without diluting it while still having an entertaining story line.

I wanted to share the stuff I've been enjoying lately. My life is an endless repetition of the same day ad infinitum but maybe talking about it would add a little bit of charm.

First off, since I'm mostly talking about books here, I'm going to share the book I've been reading. Right now I'm reading Robin Hobb's Ship of Magic. It's thick one, which is part of the reason why I thought I'd share a random blog post now as opposed to making you wait for a review on this. I suspect it will take me until the end of the year to finish this. I won't go into too much detail since I intend to make a review of sorts when I do finish it. Suffice it to say that I am very much invested in the story and the characters. I am interested in how Hobb is going to merge all these story lines. There is a definite sense that the characters are all moving towards the same destination even though they all appear to be walking in completely different directions.

I'm not much for romance but the Althea x Brashen romance sub-plot is one that has been brewing since those two were introduced and yet I don't dislike it. It's rare for me to ship (hehe get it?) a straight pair in any form of media but this one I don't mind too much. I do hope this statement doesn't bite me in the ass as I get further into the novel. As long it doesn't lean too heavily on the romance and doesn't get melodramatic, I think I can stomach it. It's also quite amusing imagining Wintrow as a ship-fucker. He reiterates that the love he feels for the ship is not romantic but I find it amusing, nonetheless. I feel bad saying this, though, because Wintrow is undoubtedly my favorite character thus far. He reminds me very loosely of Alyosha or Myshkin.

I've also been reading China Mieville's Embassytown but I am hesitant to bring it up, much less review it. I'm reading it on my kindle which means that I rarely, if ever, pick it up. I think I've been reading it for 3 months now. I know. Yikes. The book doesn't deserve this kind of treatment. The setting is so inventive and I truly cannot fathom how Mieville even thought of it. But I feel unequal to the task of talking about it because I feel like I should've dedicated more time and concentration on it. Let's just leave it at that.

Other than reading, I've also been playing video games. Right now I'm playing Final Fantasy 7: Remake. I don't know if I'm just getting old but none of the characters are appealing to me. They all seem like caricatures, or characters that have been done a million times before. Visually they're impressive for an old-ish game but they suffer from same-face syndrome. I think it's a product of game developers wanting to make their main characters visually appealing. They cater too much to what the common beauty standards are with the end result that everyone looks the same, with no distinguishing feature except their clothes and hair. It's a bore, really.

It doesn't excite me as much as Baldur's Gate 3 but because I'm so bad at video games, the gameplay provides enough challenge that I keep coming back. I suppose I'll finish it just for the sake of finishing it. It's such a dizzying game. From the gameplay to the setting. The layout of the slums gives a sense of claustrophobia. I can never figure out where to go. I suppose that's part of the atmosphere but I get frustrated sometimes so I can't play it for too long. Not to mention the plethora of side-quests that doesn't really move the plot. I am not obsessed but it will have to do.

The last thing I want to talk about is Mad Men. I've been re-watching it at a snail's pace and I know that it's been said many times before but it's so good. It's a great show that doesn't treat its audience like idiots. I love it. I'm in the episode where fuckass Crane hires a new guy to handle broadcast operations without acknowledging Joan's hard work. I truly hate all the men in this show. It's quite impressive, actually.

That's all I have for now.

I breezed through this book not just because of it's very short but because it was intriguing and written in a prose that flows really well. I've never been to America but reading this felt like how I imagine it would be if I were to move there.

The other characters insisting on categorizing Pew and placing them in a neat little box made me feel upset - as if it was being done to me. I could understand Pew's desire to be separate from her body, to be free from the obligation to be a thing that fits society's expectations. Everyone Pew meets in the town they end up in treats Pew almost as a sounding board. They share their thoughts and feelings because Pew doesn't respond and certainly doesn't appear to judge. This lends an almost religious feeling throughout the novel - Pew as a confessional. (This fits perfectly with the book concluding with the festival of forgiveness - a religious event where people from the town confess their sins and are forgiven.)

The novel remains vague as to Pew's identity so if you like books that give clean answers, this book will leave you wanting. I personally don't mind this. I was more interested in the other people in the town. There's a sinister feeling throughout the book, a sense that there is more to the town and the people than what we are privy to. A small part of me would have wanted this to be explored more but the book as it stands now feels like it's the perfect length.

I quite enjoyed this. I think the experience would have been elevated if I hadn't been a little distracted while reading it. It's one of those books that I think is quite atmospheric and requires your full attention (not because it 's hard to read but just for an immersive experience.)

I really want to be the type of person who always has something to say after reading a book. Unfortunately, I find that my thoughts are often scattered and incoherent. Rare is the book that excites me to write immediately after finishing it. (Not that I have much to say here either. I'm afraid I haven't mastered the art of reading books closely and critically.)

Worlds of Exile and Illusion is composed of three books, which are all part of Le Guin's Hainish novels. Their connection is implied throughout the text, with references to planets, races or events from the other novels, but they can each stand alone as separate novels.

Of the three, my favorite is most definitely the last one - City of Illusions. It was intriguing from the beginning but it was really towards the end that it transfixed me. The dilemma of having to trust an enemy that is known to lie and is committed to making you believe the lie really made me question who to believe. I also liked that it set the tone for the succeeding Hainish novels since we were finally introduced to the Enemy.

The second novel - Planet of Exile - I enjoyed significantly less than the other two. I felt that it didn't establish much reason for me to care about the characters fate. The descriptions of the war between the Gaal and the farborns and their allies I also found to be tedious. However, I felt that it was a good prerequisite reading to City of Illusions. This glimpse into Falk's/Ramarren's history gave me more reason to care about him.

Rocannon's World - the first novel - was also a good prerequisite reading. It established the context of the League and offers a peak into how it operates and its relationship with neighboring planets. The direction it took was quite different from what I thought it would be based on the first few chapters. I kind of wish it was more about the League and less about the journey to infiltrate the enemy base but it was still entertaining.

I'm glad there is an omnibus for the first three novels. I think it's a great starting point for Le Guin's Hainish novels and I'm quite excited to delve into the other novels (although I suspect this will take a long time since these books seem to be hard to find). I haven't felt this excited for a series in a long time. I'd love to piece together where all the events fit in a (loose?) timeline.

This is my first foray into Murdoch's extensive body of works and I am intrigued enough to continue. This book started out really strong and was able to sustain some level of momentum but it didn't quite reach the heights that I was anticipating it would. I felt that it dragged a little bit. The characters were all very intensely involved with each other, to the point to that it felt like reality TV or a soap opera.

I am a huge fan of books which are taken over by the characters' musings and analyses of situations and it certainly worked with this one. But I think I read this with the expectation that it would be filled with the characters discoursing about philosophy and Marxism. There were some hints of that but not as much as I would have liked.

I am not quite convinced by this book. It leaves a lot of things unanswered and doesn't really end on a satisfying note. I do not mind ambiguity in books but I feel that if we are spending majority of our time in the dark, there should at least be another aspect that will make up for it. Otherwise, i just don't understand why I should be reading it at all. The dialogue is very clunky. The main character, Leigh's, reflections aren't nearly as novel as she the book wants it to be. While the plot was interesting, I felt that the author didn't really explore it as much as I would have liked. It wasn't bad but it didn't stand out to me.

Whitehead writes so beautifully. It's hard to put this book down but at the same time I didn't want to finish it too fast so I was constantly torn between wanting to read it and having to put it down so I can savor the moment more.

It's about Ray Carney who is a furniture salesman leading a dual life. On the surface he appears straight but on the side he deals with more crooked stuff as a fence. We get to see him as he tries to keep these two conflicting worlds separate. While reading this, I felt I was constantly waiting for the needle to finally drop. The Harlem race riots serving as the backdrop for Carney's story really sets the tone of the novel, especially with the last section where Carney has to face a white man who leads an even more crooked life but does it out in the open.

I am really looking forward to reading the next installment in the series.

I finally finished re-reading this giant book. I don't think my sentiments have changed much from my first read. Describing it as a fantasy novel about two magicians doesn't quite capture the essence of what the book is. You need to let go of some preconceived notions of what a fantasy novel is because this Clarke manages to create a new life into the genre. It's about magicians, sure, but there isn't much emphasis on the magic per se. There isn't even an exposition on how the magic system works in this novel. Magic just happens to be the backdrop of the novel's events but is hardly ever the focus. This reads more like a history text sometimes which adds to its appeal.

I think the best thing about it is its plethora of engaging characters. Even the main characters, whose follies are the cause of much frustration, are still entertaining despite not being particularly likable.

It will come as no surprise that my main gripe is its length. Although it was fun, I felt that given how the ending did nothing to tie the story neatly, then its immense length feels unjustified. I am not suggesting that stories are not allowed to have loose endings. However, in this case, it felt very unsatisfying to have labored through a thousand pages and still have arrived at no definite conclusion.

I still highly recommend this, though.

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Dan

December 2025

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MOON MOON

just thoughts

Recent Entries

By Night in Chile by Roberto Bolaño

Lila by Marilynne Robinson

Milkman by Anna Burns

Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

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Best Books of 2024

The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin

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Embassytown by China Mieville

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things I've been doing lately

Pew by Catherine Lacey

Worlds of Exile and Illusion by Ursula K. Le Guin

The Book and the Brotherhood by Iris Murdoch

In Ascension by Martin MacInnes

Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke