Sort of like a journal (4) - 8/Dec/2014

For today's post, I declare to you here upfront that I will be writing for an audience; unlike my previous posts when I was  also writing to an audience but trying not to.

I know for a fact that my previous posts weren't seen by many. Actually they were seen by very few. So if you are one of those few, then the previous paragraph are for you, and if you are reading these posts for the first time, then welcome, thank you for reading.

This time I am intentionally speaking to an audience although I will maintain my M.O of rambling and just following my thoughts, but this time I want to ramble about and think of a topic that is close to mu heart and I believe might be to many others out there.

Just to get it out of the way, I call it being an introvert, or rather, the reason behind what I feel is being an introvert but I think it's just about being different.
I'll tel you right now that I'm not going to give a deep analysis about the topic and I probably won't add much to what you already know about yourself and the world around you. I'm just going to share my feelings in hopes that if you are, like I was one day, unaware that there are others out there, you may find comfort in knowing that you were wrong.

I'm not sure where I should start. I'll just start with this: remember that Think Different ad by apple? I think it was in the nineties. Anyway, part of the narration of that ad says "The round pegs in the square holes", and I can't help but feel tired at times by how square the world around me is.

If you feel what I mean, you are probably different. Different than those other people surrounding you. You may not have been so different if you were to exist in another time or belong to another place, but you are here (wherever that is to you) and you are now and no one gets you. You could be the nerd who likes science, or the geek who loves book. You could be the artist with a dark streak who likes to draw crazy scary pictures but is still dead good at it. Or you could be the skinny kid who's bad at sports and likes to write poetry. You could be anyone and anything. As long as you are not COMMON. You don't fit a stereotype, or you simply just to DO what everyone else around you does. That's when you know that you are the round peg and they are all trying to shove you in that square hole.

My point here is that each and everyone of the people who suffer from this, whether reading these words or not, has learned or will learn how to adapt; how to show the world what it needs to see in you while trying not to give up too much on yourself and not forget who you really are along the way. But sometimes it just gets darn hard. And the squareness is too much.

That's something I felt lately and I thought I should ramble about it here. I will not form this as advice or deep thoughts. I just wanted to say it and I have. This is not the first time I have written about this, whether with ink on paper or in other posts on this blog. But it still helps to let it out and dreaming that someone else who is different reads it and realizes they are not that different after all. Or maybe it's just me hoping that when you or anyone else reads and feels, then I can cling on to the hope that I am not that different after all.

Sort of like a journal (3) - 4/Dec/2014

I have typed and deleted three sentences. Why? Because just now I realized that the date on my last post was wrong and I changed it and I felt that I should mention this. Then I thought that it is not important or that it is not quite a strong start for this post. But then I remembered that these posts shouldn't be about thinking too much about the words but rather about the natural flow of it. So, here it is, the date on the last post was supposed to be 2nd December not 1st. Also, I hesitated in choosing the date for this post because you see, I have only slept a couple of hours last night and to me it feels as if it is still Wednesday 3rd December, while in fact it is the morning of the 4th.

I am now in Dubai for a meeting. I shall not elaborate more, because  don't feel this is the place to chronicle my life, however, it might be interesting, if I ever read this again, to remind myself of where I was. The other interesting thing is that I am typing this post on a bluetooth keyboard attached to my iPad that I am using for the first time; the keyboard that is not the iPad. It is interesting and kind of fun.

Now moving on. In my last post, which sort of feels like it was just last night, I was very pissed off. Now I am tired. A big part of it may be that I am physically tired of not having slept well for two nights and running around Dubai trying to cover as much ground as possible in as little time as possible. But that is not how I feel. I feel the drain mentally more than physically. And don't get me wrong, my life is going through some positive changes these days so I'm not complaining (and I'm not getting in to what those changes are either. Remember, not a chronicle). It's more like my mind has been racing to cover some urgent matters these past couple of weeks and I need to slow it down. This reminds me of what  mentioned last time about everyone believing they are geniuses who's minds are cramped with, well, genius. In case you haven't noticed, I am one of those people. That wouldn't make me any different than thousands of others, maybe millions, yet it remains for the world to determine who really posses something of worth within their minds,which in itself is a claim also probably made by myself along with everyone else. Just sayin'.

So, back to slowing down and feeling tired. I don't feel as angry as I was last time any more, but I do feel that I just don't wana give a F*** just for one or two days, nothing more. When I am in this state I usually feel serene, and I tend towards contemplation rather than trying to influence or fix things around me. If anything I probably enjoy life more, although I know this is not the regular me for I am usually hot tempered and trying to make everything better, which, again, is a claim most people make just before or after they describe themselves as perfectionists.

At this moment, I feel that the action of writing this post sort of contradicts my current desire for serenity although it does serve the purpose of contemplation. The reason i say this is because if the contemplation goes in the direction of looking into myself, I will get sick of it because either I will feel I'm trying to prove something to the reader which these posts are not about, or I will feel that I am repeating to myself what I already believe I know about myself which is sort of stupid an a waste of time. Or, I will be repeating to myself what I believe I already know about myself  for the purpose of reexamination, but that is not my idea of contemplation. At least not contemplation when my mind needs a little rest.

Between that last period (by period I mean that last dot and the end of the line above this one) and the first word of this sentence, a few seconds have passed as I was thinking of what to write next. I write this now, because this is exactly what is flowing through my mind and I am trying to stay true to my purpose.

One other thing. That remark I made between brackets in the above paragraph sounded condescending. I wrote it anyway to maintain the flow and here I am admitting it, also, to maintain the flow. And now, I also think I might have written it so that someone might read it and think "Oh, that's a great writer who can catch himself at such moments and have the courage to admit it!"

See what contemplation can do to you? I think this is enough contemplation for one day.

Sort of like a journal (2) - 2/Dec/2014

So much for keeping a journal!
I totally forgot about it yesterday, but here I am now, so I hope this still qualifies as me being consistent.
Now, let's see, what do I feel like writing about. I have many, sometimes too many, thoughts rushing around in my head. I bet everyone says that about themselves: "I have too many thoughts at any given moment. Oh my God, I'm a genius and my head can't hold all this power and it's pouring our of my ears!". Well, you probably guessed it, what I will talk about; I'm pissed off. Of what? Not sure, or rather, I do have some ideas, like being pissed of at everyone who thinks they are geniuses when they are assholes or more appropriately, idiots. In any case... I just noticed that I use this phrase a lot, but screw it, I'll continue to use it. In any case, let's just use today's entry to blow off some steam.

I won't intentionally start listing all the things that irritate me. What I will do is start talking about the first thing that comes to mind and let the anger flow from there.

I am, right now, fighting the urge to lash out at you, the person who is reading this, since in this instant you are a representative of the world outside of myself, and I'm basically pissed off at everything and anyone who is not me. And yes, I stopped hating myself years ago, now I mainly direct my anger outwards. Does this mean I'm an egomaniac? I'm not sure I know what that means or if it's the right word to use, but I'm sure you are smart enough to know what I mean, you're probably even one of those geniuses with all the thoughts coming out of your...ears. Just teasing you! Anyway, I do have my moments of doubting myself or hating myself for something I did, but I learned a while ago that hating myself won't do me any good; learning my lesson and admitting my mistake is much healthier and pragmatic. Hating the world? Still won't do any good, but since I can't get the world to be as pragmatic as I am and admit their mistakes and learn their lessons then I guess the world deserves to be hated.

Ok, let me tell you this, typing rapidly and banging the keys is actually helping a little: just letting you know in case you want to try it.You probably are thinking what a genius you are and how the world is missing out when you refrain from writing and sharing your soul with the world. So by all means , go ahead and bang at the keyboard.

I still feel I want to add more, write more, but the guy who's coming to fit my kitchen with cupboards (yes I moved into a flat with no kitchen cupboards and no sink for that matter) will be knocking at the door any minute, so I have to go and I pray to God he doesn't piss me off too.

Turns out he's actually a pretty nice guy, no pissing off took place during the making of this kitchen...yet.

I really don't know what I should be writing about. Honestly, I do have a few things I want to mention but I don't think should, so overall, I feel restrained and I don't think this is right or conducive to creative flow. So, I think I'll just wrap this one up. I am not happy of what I wrote, at least that's what I feel, I'm not going to reread and check so you can decide on my behalf.

I do feel that if someone has been reading this post they either stopped reading a while ago, which makes this sentences a moot point, or, that someone, YOU, in this case, have reached this far and so you deserve that I thank you and hope that my ramblings might have meant something to you.

To that end. I will be signing off
(cut to black and cue static)

Sort of like a journal (1) - 30/Nov/2014

I read this book called "If You Want to Write" and the author kept going on and on about the use of letting your creativity pour out whether on paper or canvas or keyboard. And one important piece of advice she kept repeating that would be a great outlet for this supposed out-pour of creativity is keeping a journal. So, I decided to do it and see what happens.

I quickly decided that I will keep this journal in the form of daily blog posts, and once I made that decision I started struggling with the idea that if I want it to be genuine then I should not bother if anyone will read it or not. This thought drove me to the next decision which is that I won't share these posts or actively try to propagate them; I'll just post them on the blog and let nature take its course.

But then came the next issue; if I want to be genuine and true to my decisions, shouldn't I make sure that the style of my writing isn't speaking to someone? Shouldn't be like myself talking to myself not to someone else? I thought of this for a few days and convinced myself that this is the way I speak to myself; as if I'm talking to someone else. But again, I think I'm just kidding myself, and the fact that I am typing in a keyboard and that I will press PUBLISH after I finish has its effect on the way I write and that it would differ greatly than if I was writing with a pen in an actual journal. But, wait a second, I know that the couple of entries I wrote in an old travel journal still sounded as if I am preparing my writing for others to read, probably my kids after I am long dead, or my fans also after I am long dead. And famous, hopefully.

Anyway, I'm not going to reread what I wrote but I'm pretty sure that this last paragraph makes me sound neurotic or psychotic or whatever mental disease it's called. But that's good, because this is me, outpouring and being creative. Probably also boring, or for some people, interesting. In any case, it's me, and I'll try to maintain this sort of journal for as long as I can.

Just one last confession, I will share these posts on my Facebook page. Who knows, maybe someone will pick it up and it goes viral, and yes, probably this will mean that my tone will take on the form of talking to someone. I don't care. I'm vain. And may my vanity be entertaining to you. There, I said it, I'm speaking to someone.

I think how this outpouring works is to just flow from one thought to the other. Might be even interesting for myself or someone else to look at it and deduce what kind of person I am from the way my thinking flows. Anyway, the next thought that I want to move on to is that I noticed how many times I used the word "probably" up till now. I haven't counted but I have a feeling it's more than the average article. And that probably...see what I did there, says something about who I am. Always possibilities and probabilities and rarely something conclusive. I say rarely because eventually I reach conclusions. I've even learned to reach them quickly when needed, but here it's not needed. Here I am outpouring and inconclusive. Also, it's because I don't want to force my conclusions on the reader. God make there be a reader and he/she likes this.

Next thought: Am I the only person who has this longing to be noticed and have their words celebrated even if just a little bit? Probably... probably I'm not. And you know what, screw probabilities, I know I'm not the only one. But the more interesting question here is Why, Why do I need to be noticed and have my words celebrated? I will not attempt now to understand why others seek the same, not because I don't care. I very much care and I think about these things all the time, but for now, I'll focus on me, why do I need it? I'll think of it and let you know next time...or not, it will depend on the creative flow.

Let the Game, of Thrones, begin

I know, it's cheeky. Just had to be done.

Now, I haven't updated this blog for a while now. Between the job, relocating to a different country and working on a new novel in Arabic, there was just no time for the blog. But twenty pages into A Game of Thrones and I was moved once again to speak up, or write down. Sorry again for that!

I've always read about how in order to garner more readers for your blog you should write about topics that interest your target demographic and stuff like that. I'm sure the advice is true, but I still find more pleasure in putting down what comes to mind when I am moved to write and hoping that a like-minded soul will find it, enjoy it, and that it might make the few minutes of their day it will take him or her to read it just a little bit better. And yes, I don't intend to keep you reading for more than a few minutes.

So, A Game of Thrones. I've watched all four seasons of the TV show and I have read about the books a lot. One of the reviews said, quoting loosely, that "it grips you from the first page and never lets go". Or something like that. But when I began to read it, keeping that quote and many others like it, in mind, and expecting to enjoy the ride, I did not expect it to be THIS good. Reviews usually exaggerate. But not these ones. A few pages in and I was like WHAAAAAAAT! I must tell it to the whole world. And here I am telling it to you. Could you please share it with the whole of your world? I need more views on this thing. Just kidding. Not really. (cue awkward laugh)

Those who read the books will relate

Back to A Song of Ice and Fire. After watching a few episodes of the show, being the book addict that I am (you can check how addicted I am by reading my other posts here and here), I decided I must read the books. I was trapped in the age-old dilemma of book lovers "Book first or TV show/movie first? And will one ruin the other?". It's not really age-old, just as old as the age when they started making books into TV shows and movies.

But nonetheless, I had started watching and I was hooked and from what I understood the books were so much grander in scale, I was bound to have fresh surprises anyway. I went ahead and did my research (again, book addict, some would say, nerd, but that is neither here nor there) and decided I wanted the hardcover Bantam copies and in the part of the world where I live they were not available. So I ordered them online from a bookstore in Dubai. Kinokuniya, if you must know. Visit if you are ever in this part of the world and you won't regret it. I picked them up myself after giving them strict instructions to store them well and keep the books in mint condition. I handled the books as a careful cargo should be and they travelled with me on three flights till they landed safely on my bookshelves, all set next to each other taking up almost half the space on that shelf. They look beautiful. And the sheer size of them is a clear indication that there is A LOT to enjoy in these tomes even if one has watched the show. It didn't take much to realize that. As I said, twenty pages.

The great thing I liked is that watching the show first is actually helping keep all the characters, Houses and geography a little clearer than it would have been if I were reading the books first. And although all the scenes in the few pages I have just read are all included in the opening fifteen minutes of the show, the prose itself is enjoyable; savory; melts in your mouth and goes down smoothly. Again, addict, what do you expect!

The other thing is realizing that if the writing and the story is this good on the first few pages, how great will it be when we get to the parts where people start to get their heads, and hands, chopped off. Reading a story when you know nothing about it is a journey of discovery and is so much better when the story is actually good. But I think it's safe to say that with the scale of this epic fantasy, George R.R. Martin, created a work that is so grand that no matter how good the show is, you can still be excited about the book. And knowing what is yet to come within the next pages and be anticipating it is another great feeling I only felt once before when I read The Godfather.

I promised to only keep you for a few minutes and thanks for sticking around. Go see the show if you haven't. But more importantly, go read the books, even if you have. I have started a series of blogs called Project: Ulysses about my plan to prepare myself for, then actually, reading Joyce's classic novel. Yes, as you expected, there is only one post in that so-called series, but I will update it, after I finish A Game of Thrones. And in the meantime, I am thinking of beginning a Project: Game of Thrones series. Go to your local independent bookstore, buy a copy of A Game of Thrones, then come back and tell me what you think. Maybe we can do this project together.

Project Ulysses

    

     Although I admit, and am proud of, being a book addict, my habit only started 4 years ago and I started with the small stuff, mysteries, thrillers, things that could hold my interest for 400+ pages after I had been only used to reading small books in Arabic. I worked my way up to more heavy reads, but I only got into the world of literary classics about two years ago. So it's no surprise I only got to know about Ulysses a little over a year ago.

    Ulysses, I came to find out, is a masterpiece of twentieth century literature (I can't say yet but at least most of the sources I checked said that). Ulysses is one of only a handful of books written by the Irish author James Joyce and it was first published in 1922 by the owner of the original Shakespeare and Company in Paris Sylvia Beach. There was a lot of controversy surrounding Ulysses when it first came out and it was
banned in the US. So, put yourself in my place, you find a book that is a masterpiece, written by a man hailed by many as being one of the few geniuses in this world and fewer yet to have written fiction, the book itself is surrounded by controversy only a handful of books enjoy and reading it is considered a challenge in itself; wouldn't you be hooked?

     Since I haven't read the book yet I can only repeat some of what I read about it on the internet. For more information you can check the link here and here and here, although I suggest you just pick a copy and join me in Project Ulysses.

James Joyce

     In order to explain what Project Ulysses is, let me first share with you a few of the things that prompted me to start it.

     All the hype surrounding Ulysses and its author made me determined to read it. To be honest, a big part of it might be just to be able to say that I have in fact read Ulysses, but I am hoping to enjoy it like so many others who have. I can only judge the book after reading it so why not just get on with it. But it turns out there are many steps of preparation to do before embarking on such an endeavour. This is not to say that you can't just pick up the book and read away, but rumour has it, Ulysses is a hefty read filled with twists, turns and hidden meanings that you might miss out on much of the fun if you are not ready.

     First step of being ready is choosing the edition which you will read. There are up to 18 editions of Ulysses but the most famous are only three or four of them and from what I gather, if you are a casual reader it won't really make a difference. In any case, I decided to go with the 1961 edition that is used in the Vintage and Penguin copies of the book. This site here was very helpful when it came to deciding on the edition.

    After that came the research, I found out that James Joyce based the structure of his book in a manner similar to the epic Odyssey by Homer and there are quite a few allusions in Ulysses relating to The Odyssey, which is why it was advised to read The Odyssey first so that you wouldn't miss out on those parts. So I got myself a copy of The Odyssey (many copies in fact and each time I started one only to realize I understand nothing of it until I stumbled upon an ebook from Barnes and Noble that did the trick).

     Another thing was using guides to Ulysses as you read the book, many people are in favour of it, a few others are against it. I tried to choose a middle ground. The New Bloomsday Book: A Guide Through Ulysses by Harry Blamires breaks down each chapter of Ulysses and gives a quick easy-to-understand overview of each chapter. It's not too big and it doesn't get into too many details, it just brings some things into focus; according to majority consent, that's something one needs when reading Ulysses. I will be reading it after each chapter from Ulysses, so I went and searched for that guide too, but I found it was out of print and I had to buy it off ebay to get a reasonable price.

     So by then I had The Odyssey and The New Bloomsday Book and I knew which edition to but but I hadn't bought it yet. In a cheesy gesture (one that I still stand by and do not regret one bit) I waited till I was in Paris so that I could buy my copy of Ulysses from the current Shakespeare and Company on the left bank of the Seine in a melancholic nod to the origins of the book.

     Although I had my copy for about six months and it was stamped with the famous stamp of the book store, I stumbled during a business trip on another copy, the paperback Vintage one,with a green cover reminiscent of the Irish green. It called out to me and I had to have it. After all I am a book addict; I fall for these things.

    Armed with not one but two copies of Ulysses, I needed to get to the next stages of preparation; reading Joyce's other works that build up to Ulysses in order to further ensure that I enjoy and savour it when I actually do come to it. Eventually.

   Dubliners is a collection of short stories on life in Dublin in that time. It was published in 1914 and could be considered his first major published work. I read Dubliners once before, but I guess I was reading it all wrong because I didn't get it and later I realized I should approach it in a different manner so that I can appreciate it and also for it, Dubliners, to help as a stepping stone to Ulysses. Since its language is simple and the prose easy and enjoyable it should be a good introduction to Joyce before the heavy stuff.

     Two years after that, in 1916, in the US Joyce published A Portrait of The Artist As A Young Man, his first novel. It has to be read before Ulysses if for no other reason than that the protagonist of  A Portrait of The Artist As A Young Man is a major character in Ulysses. I got my copies of both these books from different book stores, a fact that adds to the excitement of Project Ulysses and just feeds the addict inside me.

     Now, having lined up, The Odyssey, Ulysses itself, Dubliners and A Portrait of The Artist As A Young Man, I thought I was ready to start. And I did. It took me months to read The Odyssey but it was finally over last week. However, during these months I made two more discoveries. First, that it would also help to read Shakespeare's Hamelt, because many of its themes are used in Ulysses, so naturally...yes, you guessed it, I got myself a copy of Hamlet and stuck it with the Project Ulysses pile. Second, I became so intrigued by the author himself I went and bought a book about him called James Joyce: A Life by Edna O'Brien. 

     I believe now the preparation stage is over and it is time for execution. I already kept myself busy reading The Odyssey but now it's time to get in to the more juicy stuff. I have decided to begin Project Ulysses by rereading Hamlet then the short biography James Joyce: A Life, just so I can appreciate the writer himself a little more. That is when I will jump into Dubliners and after that I will tackle A Portrait of The Artist. By that time I believe I will be primed and ready for the Pièce de Résistance itself.

     I will be chronicling my journey with Project Ulysses here, so if you want to you can follow it and better yet you can join in with me. How much time is this going to take, I do not know. I will not claim to be doing this project because James Joyce is a genius and everything he wrote must be read and cherished by everyone; I haven't read his work yet so I don't know, although I do have a strong feeling I will like his work and that I will become a believer eventually. But the real reason for doing it is the journey, the experience itself, trudging through page after page of supposedly enjoyable prose and searching for those gems of sentences and hopefully stumbling upon enough of them to make the journey worthwhile.

     Besides, I'm a book addict, remember; we don't need reasons to read more books, we just like to justify it. It makes easier for others to accept our habit. But we know the truth.

     To join in on Project Ulysses, add you comments or send me an e-mail. Also you can follow this blog or #projectulysses on Twitter. If you have read Ulysses before let us know what you think, just no spoilers!

Perfect

“I’m beginning to think chaos is underrated”; a central quote in a story about how imperfect life is, and the price some people pay in their quest to make it what it will never be; perfect.

Rachel Joyce, the British author who brought us the award winning debut novel The Unlikely Pilgrimage of HaroldFry, returns with her second novel, Perfect, published in 2013, to discuss some very profound topics, yet basing her story on a very simple premise. At the beginning of the story, in 1972, 11-year-old Byron Hemmings, is told by his highly intelligent and observant friend, James Lowe, that the government will add two seconds to time, because of some anomaly in the alignment of time with the spinning of the Earth. Just two seconds. Can two seconds change a life? Can two seconds disrupt the perfection of one’s life? Or was the perfection all but a fragile stage set waiting to be blown over to expose what was hidden?

Rachel Joyce’s novel Perfect tackles these questions and much more. She never really states these questions out loud so as not to be too preachy, and she also doesn’t force a certain answer down the reader’s throat. The ensemble of characters is not large, and all of them are consistent throughout the story and act in manners realistic enough for us to believe them.

I’ve read both her novels and although they lack some of the characteristics of more experienced authors, I still liked both books because of the subjects she tackles. Although her plots are not the strongest or most intriguing, her stories make you think about your life and that is enough to keep you reading.

Her style is soft, and her language easy, which will make for a quick read, but you’ll still be left with a lot to think about. If I were to have one comment on this book is that it shows signs of being the author’s first novel (she announced that she started writing this novel first but it wasn’t completed and published till later). Since I am trying to work on my first novel myself, I could sense the similarities between her writing and my own. It’s clear that many of her characters and also scenes in the story are based on things from her real life. For some, this maybe a signal not to pick up this book, but for me it was the great thing about this story; it was written because it is a story that the author felt the need to tell, something she needed the world to hear, and that, at least in my opinion is what writing is all about.

It’s challenging to write a review and tell the readers about the merits of the story without giving any of it away, but I’ll tell you this much; issues of obsession, mental illness, peer pressure and the stress of trying to please everyone around you are only a few of the themes in this story and the author touches on all of them nicely.

Byron and James are two central characters in Perfect and Joyce puts us inside their heads and succeeds in making them believable. Diana, Byron’s mother, is another pivotal character whom, at times, makes you feel sorry for her and at other times will irritate you; just like most people you know. Even Byron’s father, Seymour, although he doesn’t have much “stage time”, his presence is always felt and his influence in the story is far from little.

Perfect may well be the author’s actual first attempt at a novel, but it is true enough and sincere enough to make you cheer for her, and value what it means to sit down, pour part of your life and soul into a story and share it with the world. So, despite its flaws, isn’t that enough to make it, Perfect?

The Goldfinch

The Goldfinch isn’t just a story; it’s an experience.

As I was reading through The Goldfinch I struggled with how I’m going to write this review. At first, the book took off to a very quick start and the opening scenes are enough reason to read The Goldfinch. Then for a while it was slow (at least I thought so) and I didn’t find much merit in the book to talk about (beyond that opening part I mentioned). But after that I realized the problem was how I was approaching the story. Because of the fast pace with which the story kicked off, I was misled to thinking this was what the book was about; a fast-paced, keeps-you-turning-the-page thriller. Although it wasn’t fast-paced, it kept me coming back to it whenever I had free time, and it definitely kept me turning the pages. And then, about half way through (which wasn’t much because most of the good stuff was still to come), it hit me what this book was really about. It’s about life. And you don’t rush life, you live it. You experience it.

Let me break it down for you first. The Goldfinch is the latest novel by American author Donna Tartt published in 2013. Her last novel before that was published in 2002 and she only wrote three novels in her whole career! But after reading The Goldfinch, I appreciate that she took her time.

The Goldfinch has been described as “a modern day epic”. I must admit I haven’t read many books that have been described as such but now that I’ve finished the book, I’d say that that description is quite true. The way I’d put it is this: The Goldfinch is the life story of Theo Decker, but we will each see resonances of our own lives in it.

The story begins with a tragic incident that happens to Theo when he is only thirteen years old. From there on his life becomes linked to this rare painting called The Goldfinch, and it’s up to us, the readers, to follow his story, enjoy it, and reflect on our own lives as we go on.

I don’t want to get into too many details about the plot so as not to spoil it for you, but I can tell you this much: the story may seem slow (it’s about life, not car chases) but when you let your guard down and think nothing new is going to happen, something does happen and you keep turning the pages. The other thing I’d like to tell you is that the last two hundred pages are worth the time and money you will invest in this book.

Donna Tartt does two great things in The Goldfinch: (1) her characters are some of the most vivid and loveable characters I’ve read. (2) She breaks down the book into parts that can be separate short stories on their own, each with a different setting and mood. When immersed in the story you might not notice it, but every once in a while, if you step back and look at the whole picture, you will realize how different the writing is from one part to another; very different that it sets a different mood, yet consistent enough to maintain the voice of each character despite the passing of years and the characters growing up.

As far as characters are concerned, there are four main ones in The Goldfinch; Theo Decker, the protagonist, Boris, his friend, Pippa who, for lack of a better description, I’d call the love interest and last but not least, James Hobart, also known as Hobie. These may be the four main characters, but the cast of The Goldfinch is more than just four, and they are all as important and as well-written as the ones I mentioned. It’s probably worth noting that even Theo’s dog has a personality that comes across clearly and that the author manages to keep consistent throughout the whole book. Another fascinating aspect is that another character, Welty Blackwell, despite having only a short dialogue in the whole book, is still an imposing presence in the story and is someone I know I will remember long after the story ended.

The Goldfinch may suffer from some slow parts when the author gets too hooked up on details specially when it comes to art and antique furniture (which are a big part of this book), but that same attention to detail injects most of her scenes with a liveliness that I came to appreciate. I felt gloomy when it was cloudy in New York City (where Theo lives), I could hear his wet footsteps on the carpet after walking in from heavy rain, I could feel the same warmth he felt when he was in the antique shop surrounded by old furniture and by the warmth and love of the people who loved him the most. Some of the best parts of this book were the scenes with Theo and Pippa together. The description of the settings, the mood Theo was describing, and the words they exchanged; everything was so real! (One of those best scenes is in the last two hundred pages I told you about)

So, the verdict: The Goldfinch is a big book, a heavy book; it’s a book you savour and read slowly with a cup of coffee in a comfortable chair, not a book to rush while sitting in a metal chair in the airport waiting for the last call for your flight.

Silence the noise

   

     The world can be so loud at times. The thoughts inside one's head can be even louder.

     I'm twenty nine years old; I will be next month, and I always struggle with figuring out which age group I really belong to. Most of the time I think of myself as the same person who graduated from college; after all, it's only been seven years. But at other times I realize so much has happened in those seven years, I'm not that kid anymore. This feeling is accentuated by certain looks I get from younger friends or colleagues, and then I realize they are actually looking up to me.

     At other times, when I feel like an old soul, full of wisdom and life's lessons, I realize, again, that I am only twenty nine. What have I seen or experienced of the world?? I'm just a kid compared to most people.

     Whether seven years out of college is a long time or not, whether what I feel is true for everyone or just due to my inexperience, one thing I know for sure is that every once in a while when I stop for a second, I notice how loud the world in my head is.

     I have a highly demanding job, a wife and a 4-year-old girl, whom I love both dearly, and I don't live in my own country. My life is easier than most people on this planet and I am blessed with much more than I deserve. Yet, like many others, the more we get used to our lives, the more our thresholds are lowered and our vision is narrowed and we are too busy with our own issues. We start getting overwhelmed by work, requests, phone calls, e-mails, little problems and big problems, performance appraisals, bonuses, promotions, wanting to be liked by your colleagues, fearing that we hurt someone's feelings, or fearing that we made the wrong impression. Then there's the family, looking after them, wondering how on earth are you going to raise this kid properly and not screw her up; should you have another baby? or not? are you ready for that? are you a good father? are you a good husband? did you take out the trash? and oh God, I have work tomorrow and I forgot to buy a new razor!

     You don't always realize this clash and clatter of thoughts in your mind until you are sitting alone, with the TV muted at two o'clock in the morning, reading a book about a mentally ill patient and you see the world through their eyes and it dawns on you that there is so much you are not hearing because of the noise you carry around with you. And at that point it was clear to me how therapeutic reading can be.

    

I took a few moments to fill my mind with a different crowd, not that of thoughts and worries, but of characters that I have gotten to know through the wonder of pages and the magic of words. And to my surprise, they were very quiet. Although this crowd included a recovering alcoholic with supernatural powers, a paranoid typewriter from the 20s and a man who survived a terrorist attack in New York City (and these were only the ones from the last few books I read) and although they made many sounds, it was like remembering the music from a carnival you went to as a child; it wasn't noise, it was soothing nostalgia.

     I guess what I'm trying to say is that even though I didn't like all those books when I was reading them, I'm still grateful that I did, because they came back to help me when I needed an escape; they were like friends that only show up when no one else is there for you. They say nothing of value and usually they say nothing at all, but traveling back to the worlds you shared with them is an escape and a relief.

     Books are wonderful friends that come to the rescue long after you turned the last page and maybe even long after the pages have withered away in an old box is someone else's garage. I know the stories I've read will always live with me and from time to time would drown out the noise of  everyday.

     Reading over my words, I can see that to many of you I might sound crazy. I won't admit to insanity, but I won't deny what I feel either. Just close your eyes, and tell me, wouldn't you like to silence the noise?

Doctor Sleep

Stephen King’s latest novel has been flying off shelves here in Doha and around the world, so I knew I had to read it and write about it for you. And with more than 5000 reviews on Amazon in less than six months, you are bound to find those who love it and those who hate it. Some have even said that “Doctor Sleep will put you to sleep”. I am not one of those. And I can safely say that Stephen King has managed to keep me up reading his books. Again.

This is not to say the book has no flaws. God knows I have my qualms about it. But with more than 50 published books, including The Shining, one of the flagships of the modern horror genre and the prequel to Doctor Sleep, it was inevitable that this review would not only be about the book but also about its author.

Stephen King is considered by many to be the master of modern horror fiction. He’s been rolling out dozens of books since the seventies, and unless you were living under a rock you will have either read his stories or watched them on TV. He’s the one who wrote Carrie, The Shining, Cujo, Misery, Dolores Claiborne, The Mist, and...Yes, you heard me, Shawshank Redemption!

He is known to write big books. Most of his works go well beyond 400 or 500 pages. The epics like IT and The Stand are easily over 800 pages. But he’s easy to read. And Doctor Sleep is no exception. Some times when you’re hungry you like to treat yourself to a gourmet meal at a fancy restaurant. But at other times you just want to order that 500 gram (17 ounce) steak so you can sink your teeth in it and devour bite after bite without fear of running out too soon. That’s how Stephen King novels feel like! And the worst steak dinner is still a great meal.

Doctor Sleep is supposed to be the sequel to The Shining and this, in my opinion, is the source of most of its bad reviews, because The Shining is just too good and Doctor Sleep will never match up to it. However, if regarded as a standalone novel, Doctor Sleep has its merits.

Before I get into further details about Doctor Sleep, let me tell you this, if you have read The Shining, read it again. If you haven’t, then go read it whether you want to read Doctor Sleep or not. And if you only saw the movie, do yourself a favour, and read the book.

The main common factor between both books is the main character Dan Torrance and his supernatural gift that is called the shining. We left Dan at the end of the first book as a five year old boy who had gone through hell at the world famous Overlook hotel. Now we pick up with him again as a middle-aged recovering alcoholic. The author fills us in on a lot of what happened to Dan in the time between then and now, but he also takes off with another story altogether after that, one that involves more shining, more people with the shining, and more and more people who want to kill those who have the shining.

The major difference I felt between the two books is that while both have supernatural phenomena at the centre of them, The Shining felt creepy while Doctor Sleep felt more real. At first this was upsetting, because I went into it expecting to read a story continuing along the same lines as its predecessor, but after embracing the new story I got used to it. In the first book, for a big part, it seemed that King only alluded to the supernatural in a subtle way. It’s their and it’s not their at the same time and he left it to your imagination to fill in the gaps which is probably why the book was scary on so many levels. Then all of a sudden he would shock you with a scene that was so graphic and detailed, it would stick with you for a very long time afterwards. In Doctor Sleep, on the other hand, he treats the supernatural phenomena in his book as if it is an everyday thing. He mentions it more frequently and rather casually. Almost all of the characters in this story have something otherworldly about them to some degree or another and there is nothing subtle about it. This gave him room to concentrate on more real, gritty stuff, like substance abuse, anger, violence, torture and death. Not to mention friendship, family and redemption.

Some of the characters here are very well developed like the young Abra Stone who has an even stronger shine than Dan, but many other characters, specially the villains seem too shallow and rushed. King attempts to create an epic battle between good and evil, however, the ending is very predictable and somewhat anticlimactic. The story is about middle-aged Dan, living peacefully in a small town using his gifts to help dying people pass over. But then he meets Abra, a young girl whose abilities are even stronger than his and who is hunted by a group of semi-immortal beings, called the True Knot, who hunt kids with the shining and feed on the steam they release when they are tortured. It seems pretty obvious where King is going with this and how it will end. But if you decide to read this book, then do it for the journey not the ending.

In my opinion, those who read Doctor Sleep before reading its prequel will enjoy it more because they won’t have any preconceived notions and they won’t have created any emotional bonds with fiver-year old Danny.

I’ve read a few of Stephen King’s books, some I’ve liked and some not very much but all were easy to read and kept me entertained. His new book Mr.Mercedes comes out in June of this year, so let’s hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes again. Until then if you feel like having a literary steak that you can easily chew, pick up Doctor Sleep, you’ll enjoy it!

Unplugged

     "My cell phone is dead. What a relief!"

    
     I know much has been said about technology; some things for and some things against. I've also read before how we should unplug every once in a while and take a break from the world. But my job in sales has never really given me that chance and I know that this is the case with most people out there; we know we need to take a break, sometimes we might even force ourselves to take it, but the damn phone never stops ringing and it seems that the evil forces of the universe always conspire so that all the undesired phone calls, e-mails and messages converge on you when you are most in need of a break.

     Many of us just can't afford to turn off our phones. And that's not all, what I also noticed about myself is that even on weekends when it appears safe to go to the dark side of the moon, it just feels wrong, against my instincts. This might be a by-product of my work, or maybe I just lack the will-power to do it, either way, when my cell phone died on me today for the first time in months (I keep a charger everywhere) I realized two things:

One, I have been exposing myself to this things radio waves non-stop for more than I care to admit (I sleep with it on the night stand and I can't turn it off because, too early in the morning, I might get that all-important message from someone in an office in a different time zone).

And two, it felt like a huge weight just lifted off my shoulders and that I prayed secretly not to find a charger near by. The world suddenly became just a tiny bit quieter. Not that my phone was ringing off the hook, but because finally I could relax knowing that no matter what happens I could be blissfully ignorant about the world for a while. You might ask why I don't just turn off my phone at will? To that I say, maybe I will start doing that now more often. I don't like to lie when my boss asks why my phone was off, so when it dies on me by chance, I don't feel guilty about it.

     The reason I am telling you all this is that if you are wise to the enslaving effect technology has on us, then good for you, but if you are like me, then break away now, run for your life, or at least forget to keep a charger in your car. I know that's what I'm going to do!
   
        

Feeding The Habit

     I recently had to travel four times, on business, all in the space of six weeks. All four trips were to four different destinations. For any normal person, that could mean a chance to enjoy different cities, see new things, and enjoy the change of pace in one's life. For someone else it might mean the trouble of going  
through queue after queue of customs clearance, passport checks and security checks, not to mention the hassle of baggage claim and hotel check-ins and check-outs. But for a book addict, it was an opportunity to feed the habit.

     Each trip came with a preparation period of first finding out the best book-selling dens (or as regular people call them, bookshops) and then mapping out the best routes that would allow me to visit the maximum number of shops with a minimum waste of time (I was after all travelling for business and spare time was scarce).

     Since I didn't have the luxury of mobile internet, I had to print out the maps after setting the routes using Google Maps, and I also printed out my Amazon shopping cart (several pages long, and by several I mean eight) so I wouldn't forget any book I already wanted (the ones I would buy on the go are another story).

     Four trips also meant four times I get to check the duty free shop on my out of the city for any new additions, and four different duty free shops on my way back from each trip. All in all, I visited eleven book-selling outlets, bought a little over twenty books and I try hard not to think of how much money all this binge buying has cost me. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I regret it or anything, just that I don't want to have to lie when my wife asks me. Saying "I don't know, honey, I didn't keep track" is much easier than stating a number and having to live with the consequences. Although, for the record, I must state, my wife is very understanding. And I'm trying to get her hooked on books too!

     You might think all this is no problem. Many people who get the chance to travel do check out all the joints that sell whatever substance they are hooked on; clothes, electronics and in this case books. But the revealing thing is that in between these excursions, and although I told myself over and over that it was ok to do this when travelling because it was a one time opportunity, I still picked up another ten books from two bookstores and two yard sales. But don't fear for me, because the books at the yard sales were what are called a-dime-a-dozen, and they were in pretty good shape too so I couldn't just pass them by. They were calling out to me!

     Why am I telling you this? Because that's what addicts do, they share. Am I ashamed by any of this? Absolutely not. Money spent on books is always money well spent. Even if I buy books faster than I can read them (as any book addict or book hoarder would tell you), I will at least make sure that one day someone will and that means the books, and the money, were not wasted. Am I going to feed the habit again any time soon? Probably I will. Am I tired of all these rhetorical questions? YES I AM and I bet you are too, so I'll just stop.

     If you are a book addict, brother/sister, know you are not alone. And if you are not, leave your comments and tell us what you think. Also, please leave your donations (Likes) in the donations box so I can buy more books!

Oh, I forgot to say this at the beginning, My name is Mohammed, and I'm a book addict.