Snow by Orhan Pamuk

Originally posted on Guiltless Reading.

How does one stay whole, sane, live with integrity amidst contradictions?

About Snow by Orhan Pamuk: Dread, yearning, identity, intrigue, the lethal chemistry between secular doubt and Islamic fanaticism–these are the elements that Orhan Pamuk anneals in this masterful, disquieting novel. An exiled poet named Ka returns to Turkey and travels to the forlorn city of Kars. His ostensible purpose is to report on a wave of suicides among religious girls forbidden to wear their head-scarves. But Ka is also drawn by his memories of the radiant Ipek, now recently divorced. Amid blanketing snowfall and universal suspicion, Ka finds himself pursued by figures ranging from Ipek’s ex-husband to a charismatic terrorist. A lost gift returns with ecstatic suddenness. A theatrical evening climaxes in a massacre. And finding god may be the prelude to losing everything else. Touching, slyly comic, and humming with cerebral suspense, Snow is of immense relevance to our present moment.

My two cents

So here's a review that has been languishing in draft. It's because I couldn't pick up another book for maybe about a week after reading this book: it gave me such a horrendous book hangover. In the best possible way: it provoked, it triggered so much in me. It got to me, ok, pretty hard.

This book is deceiving; it doesn't look all that thick but it is actually 426 pages, and crack it open and the text is tiny! Dense. I struggled to get past that fact in the beginning but once I made it into the second chapter, I was hooked. It is a pithy novel, like someone poured their life into it, and I doubt that's not far from the truth for Orhan Pamuk.

I loved that this was such a challenging read. I find it disconcerting that reviews are polarized. But I understand where people are coming from - it's hard to get around the fact that this is about a depressingly solitary and misunderstood life in a far flung country whose realities I know little about (although sadly, plenty in the news lately). But surprisingly that's what I loved about it: learning and getting out of my comfort zone, and realizing that despite country, culture, religion, everyone is merely trying to live their lives the best they can.

Collage of Kars, Turkey. 
By Kars Church Of The Apostles 2009.JPG: Bjørn Christian TørrissenKars Kalesi1.jpg: Sabri76Kars Panorama.JPG: Bjørn Christian Tørrissen - Derived from other images, as noted under Author, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34628630

Ka's solitary life is cobbled together from the viewpoint of Orhan Pamuk who is Ka's friend. Notice the author insertion here? In that respect, this reminded me of Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco. And like Syjuco's presentation of Philippine history, Pamuk allows us a glimpse Turkey's history, one where religion, politics, and power is complicated and multifaceted. The traditional clashes with the modern; nationalism is at odds with the status quo towards assimilation; Islamic belief, secularism and traditional religion are a contradictory mix; and the Eastern and Western belief systems collide. I wonder: how does one stay whole, sane, and live with integrity amidst these contradictions?

I love how Blue, Kars's resident revolutionary, is able to make sense of the dilemma:

"I refuse to be European, and I won't ape their ways. Im going to live my own history and be no one but myself. I for one believe it's possible to be happy without being a mock European, without becoming their slave. There's a word Europhiles very commonly use when they denigrate our people: to be a true Westerner a person must first become an individual, and then they go on to say that in Turkey, there are no individuals! Well, that's how I see my execution. I am standing up against the Westerners as an individual; it's because I'm an individual that I refuse to imitate them." - p. 314

Yet another dilemma presented is the reality of being a veiled woman in Turkey (sidenote: another book that tackles this on a more personal level is Silk Armour by Claire Sydenham, a book I highly recommend). The contradictions of revolt and freedom, of tradition and constraint is something that women must contend with daily in society to determine their own sense of identity. The rash of suicides of veiled students was an intriguing way of couching this daily struggle.

Poetry throughout, music, theatrical presentations: I reveled in the power of media in informing and agitating people, presenting fact and differing opinions, and affecting change. It highlights the fact that music and the arts is never going to disappear from our lives.

I can't not comment about the obvious theme of snow carried throughout the book -- its coldness and sadness it evokes, the stark white landscapes that it conjures. But also its beauty. Contradictions.

There is so much more to this book that I hate the idea of breaking this review down too much (plus I fear that my not completing this review will end up in my never getting this review up at all!). The most powerful thing for me about this novel is that this got me thinking and asking more questions, of learning about Turkey's multifaceted society and knowing that history shapes the lives of its inhabitants in many ways that we would never imagine possible.

Uh-ohs

There are certain aspects of this novel that raised a red flag in my mind. The most obvious is that this dense tome is intimidating. I actually read this over an entire month, in little manageable bits. I won't deny that it's heavy reading, but so totally worth it!

Another, the snow theme became academic towards the end. It kind of fell flat for me when I saw the diagrams and I thought the author carried it tad far. I often wonder with works like this if things get lost in translation (because this is a translated work), something I can only speculate about.

Setting

Set predominantly in Kars, Turkey, the landscape for this story is a fascinating mix of old and new built upon a history of conflict. Historic accounts and folkloric stories abound in this novel but one needs to read between the lines, do their research, especially if coming in from the cold.

Kars was the capital of the medieval Bagratid Kingdom of Armenia. In the 19th century, it was battled over by the Ottoman and Russian empires, with Russia eventually gaining control. During the First World War, the Ottomans took control of the city in 1918 but relinquished it to the First Republic of Armenia following the Armistice of Mudros. In 1920, Turkish revolutionaries captured captured Kars. The Treaty of Kars was signed in 1921 between the Government of the Grand National Assembly and the Soviet republics of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia, establishing the current north-eastern boundaries of Turkey. Learn more here: Wikipedia - Kars, Turkey

Verdict

An intimidating and challenging read about the tragically solitary life of a revolutionary in Turkey. Dense, provoking and allowing for introspection, I highly recommend this for those who'd like to learn more about the history and realities of conflict-ridden countries, and those intrigued by Pamuk's ability to encapsulate the dilemma of national self-identity vis-s-vis personal self-identity in novel form.

***

I read this book as part of the Read the Nobels 2016 Reading Challenge. This is written by Nobel Prize for Literature Laureate Orhan Pamuk.

 Join the Read the Nobels 2016 Reading Challenge anytime until December 31, 2016.

Find Read the Nobels on social media!

Twitter  |  Pinterest  |  Bloglovin

Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Originally posted on Guiltless Reading.

Still lusty for life yet ruing lost youth.

A bad first impression

After a ten year hiatus, Marquez came back into the limelight with this extremely slim Lolita-esque novel. I am a huge fan Marquez already, so I came upon his book a few years ago, I had great expectations. My first read I immediately hated it. I couldn't get past the revulsion that this story basically glorified a "dirty old man" -- a 90-year-old man sleeping with an impoverished teenager under the banner of "love." I put the book aside in semi-disgust and couldn't process how one of my favourite authors could do this to his fans patiently waiting for his next great novel.

Redeeming qualities

Now that I'm purposely doing the Read the Nobels, I decided that this book deserved a second chance. Readers do not necessarily need to agree with a story, I reminded myself. I wanted to see if I could get a more positive takeaway. Borne out of a second chance, this review delves into what I did like about it.

Strip this down its bare bones and this is an ode to growing old, a reminiscence of youth lost, and coming to the inevitable realization of the fleeting nature of life. It is about falling in love again, both literally and figuratively, and reliving youth through someone young.

This is quite funny in places which pokes fun at the aches and pains that come with old age. Even with coarse language, naughty comments, and the discussions on sex, sexual appetites and urges, there is a charm to this voice that has shed its shyness of youth. It is matter-of-fact, no-holds-barred, and comfortable in one's own skin. There is no pretension and no need to cloak in the niceties or politeness -- and I love that about this book.

... but still not up to snuff

I gave this book the chance but honestly it cannot compare to the loftiness and grandeur that is 100 Years of Solitude or the complexity of Of Love and Other Demons. It's good reading but it is not the best of Marquez's work. I feel a little let down still but comfort myself in the fact that I still have many Marquez books still unread.


Synopsis of Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez: On the eve of his ninetieth birthday a bachelor decides to give himself a wild night of love with a virgin. As is his habit--he has purchased hundreds of women--he asks a madam for her assistance. The fourteen-year-old girl who is procured for him is enchanting, but exhausted as she is from caring for siblings and her job sewing buttons, she can do little but sleep. Yet with sleeping beauty at his side, it is he who awakens to a romance he has never known.

Find out more about Read the Nobels!

The Harafish by Naguib Mahfouz

Originally reviewed on Guiltless Reading.

The epicness of rabble.

About The Harafish by Naguib Mahfouz: In this captivating novel, Mahfouz chronicles he dramatic history of the al-Nagi family - a family that moves, over many generations, from the heights of power and glory to the depths of decadence and decay. The Harafish begins with the tale of Ashur al-Nagi, a man who grows from humble origins to become a great leader, a legend among the common people - the harafish of the title. Generation after generation, however, Ashur's descendants grow further from his legendary example, losing touch with their origins and squandering their large fortunes, marrying prostitutes and developing bitter and eventually fatal rivalries. And yet, a small hope always remains that one day they will produce a Nagi who can restore their name to its former glory.

My two cents

Harafish translates to "rabble" and this book chronicles the family history of in a community described as a little alleyway in Egypt (I like to imagine it to be like a crowded slum area of a large city).

This is an epic read. It reminds me of the broadness of scope of 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Marquez and the complexity of family histories (although Harafish spans not just one but two centuries!). It also reminds me of Homer's books that evoke the grandeur and exaltation of heroism. Lastly, it reminds me of the Bible because of themes that it explores, particularly of the good and bad of human nature. Specifically this reads like Ecclesiastes which questions and challenges the meaninglessness of life.

Chronicling the al-Nagi family's history over generations, this is a fascinating look at how the family pendulums from legendary greatness to folly and destitution. An interesting array of larger-than-life characters make their appearance over the centuries, from the goodness and legendary strength of Ashur; the sexual woman Zahira who is beguiling and calculated; the folly of Galal in his pursuit of immortality (oh, there is more, and I kept shaking my head at how robust and melodramatic the characters are!). Each character's story is a parable and there are nuggets of wisdom to be had from the philosophical musings emanating from their stories.

Uh-ohs

While I found the translation is beautifully simple and makes this easy reading, it may rile on your nerves a bit as at times it feel almost overly simple.

I also found myself wanting a family tree because of the sheer number of characters and the unfamiliarity of the names.

Verdict

This is my first Mahfouz book and I wasn't disappointed at the cultural richness and the universality of the themes presented in this epic chronicle of a common family's history.

Random quotes

He and Raifa each lived in hell, in a world of tedium. - p. 29

[..] was struck by the idea of a woman's weakness is her emotions, and that her relationships with men should be rational and calculated. Life is precious, with vast possibilities, limitless horizons. Love is nothing more than a blind beggar, creeping around the alleyways. - p. 236

Why do people laugh, dance in triumph, feel recklessly secure in positions of power? Why do they not remember the true place in the scheme of things and their inevitable end? - p. 272

Nobel Facts

Naguib Mahfouz is an Egyptian writer who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988 "who, through works rich in nuance - now clear-sightedly realistic, now evocatively ambiguous - has formed an Arabian narrative art that applies to all mankind." His books are originally written in Arabic. Read more about Mahfouz on Wikipedia.  

Book Depository

Blindness and Seeing by José Saramago

I've been on a Saramago roll lately! His writing style intrigues me; and his allegorical-philosophical discourses - while they can get me a little bogged down - never fail to surprise me with his insights into human nature, even the worst of it.

After passing over Seeing many times as it happens always to be on the shelves... finally a  few months ago, I saw Blindness. All I knew is that I'd need to read Blindness before Seeing.

The books in one sentence each:

• Blindness: A city is inexplicably hit by blindness - save for one woman - the blind are confined to a mental hospital where man's worst appetites rear its ugly head. 
• Seeing: Majority cast blank votes in the election; government strives to deal with this "revolt," and pinpoints that the "seeing woman" is behind this plot.  

My thoughts

I've always been intrigued by dystopian literature, though it can be a little of a downer for me so I always make sure to stagger read it. 

Blindness is a depressing read yet shows what goodness, forgiveness and strength of character can do to rise above depravity and anarchy. The scenario is simple - in an entire city of blind people, one woman remains able to see. Why? What does she do?

This enigmatic phenomenon starts off with a man who is strangely struck by blindness. He goes to his ophthalmologist to find out why ... and instead he starts off a strange epidemic of blindness in other patient, including the very doctor who seeks to cure them.

The blind are quarantined in an old mental hospital. The doctor's wife, who remains able to see, refuses to leave her husband's side and feigns blindness to be able to do so. The hospital leaves the blind to basically left to fend for themselves ... and anarchy takes over in the fight for survival. The doctor's wife arises as a natural leader.

The characters are an interesting lot and lend various perspectives to this unusual story. There is the "girl with the dark glasses" - a prostitute who turns motherly to a young boy separated from his parents. Then there is the "man with the black eye patch," who unlike everyone else, takes his blindness calmly and matter-of-a-factly and sees it as an opportunity to learn a much-needed lesson. There is also the tyrannical "Ward 3 leader," who when supplies run low and modes of payment are non-existing, demands women in exchange.

{I watched the movie (Julianne Moore?!?) and decided that this story is something best left as a book. It is much too graphic and depressing to have to watch - instead of being fodder for thought.}

* * * 

Seeing is the sequel to Blindness post-blindness. Sight is miraculously restored and election time has swung around. The whole day, very few come around to vote, explained away as a heavy rain falls. But right after the skies clear up at around 4:00 pm, people are inexplicably at the polls and extensive lines start up. And to everyone's shock, the majority of the votes cast are blank.

Government investigates, viewing this sudden surge of voters at 4:00 pm and the resulting blank ballots as a plot to overthrow the government. In the increasingly oppressive nature of this Government, there is widespread discontent yet the fear of the repercussions of communicating this. Government keeps up a semblance of normality through what is regarded as highly suspicious propaganda. Meanwhile people are questioned and start disappearing - and what results is an interesting yet precarious balance between the ruled and the rulers.

The "seeing" woman again figures in this story. She is pinpointed as the one responsible for orchestrating the casting of bank votes by mere virtue of her retaining her sight during the inexplicable blindness. A Superintendent is assigned to investigate who is responsible for this "revolution." The Superintendent, in the course of his investigations comes to see the human side of the situation, and he  becomes a dissenting voice in this silent city.

Verdict: Both must-reads! Blindness focuses on the individual at his best and worst. Seeing focuses on the government at its worst. 

{Originally posted at guiltlessreading.blogspot.com.}

The Double by José Saramago

I decided to read this because: I enjoyed his book All the Names.

First line: The man who had just come into the shop to rent a video bears on his identity card a most unusual name, a name with a classical flavor that time has staled, neither more not less than Tertuliano Maximo Afonso.

The book in one sentence: A high school history teacher discovers the existence of his exact double in all respects, tries to make sense of it, and becomes obsessed with killing him.

I'd recommend it to: Anyone who's read Saramago before. If you're interested in psychological and books that make you ponder into the night, this may be for you.

I liked: Again, Saramago makes a story of a seemingly mundane existence - a teacher, an introvert, depressed, with few friends, no real life to speak of - into something interesting.

The premise of the story - of the possibility of having an exact double in this world - immediately reminded me of matter and anti-matter. I was speculating that when Tertuliano Maximo Afonso would eventually meet his double that something stupendous would happen ... spontaneous combustion? Of course, nothing like that did happen.

This is a psychological novel. It examines how a person's core of existence - identity and individuality - is shattered when the improbable and impossible happens. There is a lot of thinking going on, a lot of second guessing, and a lot of stress. And that can get to you, if you really think about it.

I didn’t like: Saramago's strange storytelling with little or no punctuation and long-winded sentences doesn't really bother me, but it can grate on the nerves somewhat, especially since there were pages and pages of soliloquy and non-action.

And why the emphasis on the name Tertuliano Maximo Afonso, and it's insistent repetition throughout the text? I think Saramago was trying to stress that despite the uniqueness of his name, our hero had to contend with the contrary. But again, its repeated use throughout the text was getting tiring.

There were times that the book was slooooowwww. I admit, I skimmed through some sections. This is not a book to read when you are bored. It can be a little clinical at times, like reading through a doctor's notes.

Author factoids: Saramago is a Portuguese writer who was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1998.

Verdict: Once you get past the strange non-punctuation, the heart of the story makes for a compelling and disturbing read.

Random quote:.

The best way to achieve universal exoneration is to conclude that since everyone is to blame, no one is guilty.

Originally posted on my blog Guiltless Reading.

The House Gun by Nadine Gordimer

The House Gun by Nadine Gordimer

From Library Journal: Harald and Claudia, highly successful professionals (he heads up an insurance company, she is a physician), find their comfortable life in post-apartheid South Africa turned upside down when their only son is accused of murdering one of his housemates, using the communal "house gun" they had purchased for protection. The parents are dumbfounded when Duncan does not deny the crime. How could their son be a murderer, and are they somehow to blame? Duncan acted out of jealousy, but was it heterosexual jealousy or something else? He is going to be defended by a black attorney. Will the attorney's lack of courtroom experience be a liability, or will his race favorably influence the judge? Harald and Claudia are ashamed to find themselves asking these questions.

My take: I felt like I was holding my breath throughout the whole book, expecting something earthshaking to happen. But a third into it, I was still waiting ... halfway into it, still waiting... and when the moment arrived, arrrrggghhh, is that IT?

Not exactly a page-turner, but an incisive look into the psychology of parents to their child. How well do you really know your child? If your son were accused of murder, would you feel obligated to believe him as innocent? To what lengths would you protect your son?

It also examines to a lesser degree white-black relations and power play in South Africa.

Originally posted on my blog Guiltless Reading.

My Son's Story by Nadine Gordimer

My Son's Story by Nadine Gordimer

From Publishers Weekly: Nobel Prize-winning author Gordimer's story of segregated South Africa focuses on Sonny, a black teacher whose revolutionary activities, imprisonment and extramarital affair with a white human rights activist profoundly affect his family. According to PW, "The novel is eloquent in its understated prose and anguished understanding of moral complexities."

Quick take: After a few false starts and stops, I finally got into this extremely well-told tale of apartheid and revolution in South Africa. The beauty of it is that the secret lives of each family member can get so engrossing, that you seem to actually know them.

All the Names by José Saramago

I've been silent for such a long time, I'm making a comeback of sorts with the quick review of Saramago's book. This is my first time to try this author and I am so enamored, I am trying to get a copy of his famous "Blindness." 

Cross-posted on Guiltless Reading.  

The book in one sentence: Senhor Jose's otherwise humdrum life as a clerk in the Central Registry goes topsy-turvy as in the course of collecting info on famous people, he picks up an ordinary woman's birth certificate ... and obsesses to track her down.

Who would you recommend it to: Those who love to get lost in meandering descriptions.

OK bits: I loved this book - but I think you need to get into a state of mind. Don't read this if you're in a rush or looking for a quick read. This is a book to get lost in during a boring rainy day with nothing to do. The story is sparse but how it is told is amazing. Saramago tells it like he were right next to you, conversational and in run-on sentences (in fact some sentences would run on for over a page!). But the voice is clear, honest, direct. I got so drawn into the mundanity of Senhor Jose's life, I actually found myself rooting for

Boring bits: While the book's strength is its prose, it is also its Achilles heel. If you flip through the book and see how dense the paragraphs are, you may just be turned off. Don't be daunted, don't shortchange yourself.

Verdict: Loved it. I'm in awe at how Saramago weaves this tale about loneliness, anonymity and how people naturally seek meaning and identity throughout their lives.

Random quote:

Apart from his first name, Jose, Senhor Jose also has surnames, very ordinary ones, nothing extravagant, one from his father's side, another from his mother's, as is normal, names legitimately transmitted, as we could confirm in the Register of Births in the Central Registry if the matter justified our interest and if the results of that inquiry repaid the labour of merely confirming what we already know.

Links:

• http://www.powells.com/review/2001_07_19.html
• http://www.bookreporter.com/reviews/0156010593.asp

The Pearl by John Steinbeck

First line: Kino awakened in the near dark.

I've been meaning to say a few things about this slim but packed book. This may be required reading in US schools, but here in the Philippines, I've seen more than a few of old browning copies languishing in school libraries.

Which is a pity. Steinbeck has written a beautiful parable of what greed can do to even the kindest, most upright man. It traces how in your quest to find the "solution" and eventually have the "solution" in your grasp, that you slowly realize that you have subconsciously turned into the very type of person you despise.

More importantly, I feel that it brings us back to basics, in a rather dramatic fashion - pointing out the obvious: that money can never take the place of the a happy family and a sense of community.

Two paragraphs sum up the transformation of the pearl and Kino:

" ... there it lay, the great pearl, perfect as the moon. It captured the light and refined it, and gave it back in silver incandescence. In the surface of the great pearl he could see dream forms." (p. 25)
"And the pearl was ugly; it was gray, like a malignant growth" (p. 117)

I read this in a day, but what I got from it is invaluable. Good and evil both reside in men, cliche as it may sound, and what one must do to fight the evil often means learning just how ugly one's soul can be.

It does also raise more questions: Are things sometimes better left alone? Does this mean we shouldn't strive for a better life, and become complacent? How does one deal with temptation, when one is so ill equipped to do so?

Last line: And the music of the pearl drifted to a whisper and disappeared.
[Original post on aloireads.wordpress.com]

Leaf Storm by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Cross-posted on Guiltless Reading.

Back Blurb: Drenched by rain, the town has been decaying ever since the banana company left. Its people are sullen and bitter, so when the doctor - a foreigner who ended up the most hated man in town - dies, there is no one to mourn him. But also living in the town is the Colonel, who is bound to honor a promise made many years ago. The Colonel and his family must bury the doctor, despite the inclination of their fellow inhabitants that his corpse be forgotten and left to rot.

1st line: I've seen a corpse for the first time.

My take: I was an instant fan of Gabo since I read 100 Years of Solitude some years ago. So it is indeed a treat to go back to his earlier writings and "reminisce," tracing how his stories and characters have grown over time. The setting, the town of Macondo, is one and the same; and the doctor was in fact introduced to the colonel by no less than Aureliano Buendia.

This is actually much more straightforward in terms of story. Leaf Storm does not rely too heavily on magical realism as compared to 100 Years, but you feel traces of it.

The book opens with the perspective of a young boy, uncomfortable in his clothes, no, his own skin ... as he views a dead body for the first time in his life. Along with his mother and his grandfather (the colonel), they are the only people in the village that came to keep watch over the corpse of the doctor.
Through an often-times confusing yet mesmerizing mishmash, the story of why the Colonel was bound to honor the dead doctor slowly unravels. Three perspectives ... their thoughts, their observations, their recollections ... these overlap each other. This was quite bewildering - on the one hand trying to figure out whose thoughts I was getting a glimpse of, and on the other hand, learning the bizarre story of this man who had pushed the hospitality of the Colonel to the limit and sparked the ire of the entire town.

In the end, no remembers nor really cares about the dead doctor. The story is not merely about a doctor but of an entire village. And more importantly, through the recollections, you go along on the same internal journey of the three characters from three generations.

When I read Gabo, I sometimes feel like I am suspended in between reality and a dream, as he brings a strangely eerie atmosphere with his descriptions. You can almost feel the sweat trickling down your own brow, breathe the thick heavy air, and know the stench of a dead body.

The term "leaf storm" was used as a metaphor for the arrival and departure of a banana company; with its entrance in Macondo came prosperity and abundance and with its departure, it again disappeared into oblivion. Just like the doctor.

Strange Pilgrims by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

12 short stories about Latin Americans in Europe.

Back blurb: In Barcelona, an aging Brazilian prostitute trains her dog to weep at the grave she has chosen for herself. In Vienna, a woman parlays her gift for seeing the future into a fortune-telling position with a wealthy family. In Geneva, an ambulance driver and his wife take in the lonely, apparently dying ex-president of a Caribbean country, only to discover that his political ambition is very much intact.

In these twelve masterful stories about the lives of Latin Americans in Europe, Garcia Marquez conveys the particular amalgam of melancholy, tenacity, sorrow and aspiration that is the emigre experience.

My take: This is a fantastic book! If you aren't quite ready to plunge into Garcia Marquez's full length books, this one will give you a feel for how he writes. Despite some of these stories being only a few pages long, the stories will stay with you. They are beautifully un-verbose and showcase his gift for storytelling in magical, mystical prose. That is Garcia Marquez's magic.

If you've ever been in a foreign land, you can easily empathize with these characters' feelings of alienation and dislocation; of existing yet being unrooted from your realities and somehow making ones' self fit. The fit may not be quite right, but one manages.

Being of some Spanish influence, I believe that Filipinos (especially immigrants, overseas workers, and simply those visiting Europe and Americas) will see themselves in these characters and how they will tend to cling to familiar and often comforting traditions. You can change the exterior, but deep down you know who you are.

One of the most disturbing stories for me was the one where a woman simply wanted to use the phone ... but nonetheless ended up in an asylum. Over time she did become half insane. It is the tragedy of communicating, yet not being believed.

I have many favorite short stories here. Each story can be read leisurely in a few minutes. I suggest you not to rush through the entire thing in one sitting but savor each story, let it stay with you, and maybe even re-read it.

I've marked my favorite stories, through I loved each story in its own way.

• Bon Voyage, Mr President
• The Saint
• *Sleeping Beauty and the Airplane
• *I Sell My Dreams
• "I Only Came to Use the Phone"
• The Ghosts of August
• María dos Prazeres
• Seventeen Poisoned Englishmen
• Tramontana
• Miss Forbes's Summer of Happiness
• *Light is Like Water
• *The Trail of Your Blood in the Snow

The stories in this collection were originally written in a span of some 20 years, during the 70s and 80s. It wasn't published until 1992. Garcia Marquez draws from his own experiences as he spent some years as an exile from his native Colombia.

The Black Book by Orhan Pamuk

[Crossposted here]

Back Blurb: Galip is a lawyer living in Istanbul. His wife, the detective novel-loving Ruya, has disappeared. Could she have left him for her ex-husband, Celâl, a popular newspaper columnist? But Celâl, too, seems to have vanished. As Galip investigates, he finds himself assuming the enviable Celâl 's identity, wearing his clothes, answering his phone calls, even writing his columns. Galip pursues every conceivable clue, but the nature of the mystery keeps changing, and when he receives a death threat, he begins to fear the worst.

With its cascade of beguiling stories about Istanbul, The Black Book is a brilliantly unconventional mystery, and a provocative meditation on identity. For Turkish literary readers it is the cherished cult novel in which Orhan Pamuk found his original voice, but it has largely been neglected by English-language readers. Now, in Maureen Freely’s beautiful new translation, they, too, may encounter all its riches.

My take: Whoa, what an incredible book! This is about self-awareness and self-identity. Who are we? Are we simply the product of our environment, of what we read, of what we absorb? Is there a "you" who exists apart from these influences? Is it even possible to exist without these influences?

Self identity is also tied up to nationality, as Pamuk is a Turkish writer, he has numerous references to the history and the Turkish identity. And the day-to-dayness of Turkish life.

I read this book in under a week. The storyline was gripping. There were parts that I wanted to skip whole sections because I found it dragging. But I didn't give into the temptation, and this has lent to the multi-dimensional-ness of the characters and the world in which they move in.

I loved the ending of the story of the prince. It is this book wherein it wasn't the ending per se that mattered, but how the ending reflected how the character found himself.

Great books make you think, and they make you think hard and deep about yourself, even if it hurts.