December 30, 2013 § 3 Comments
I’ve been very bad at updating this blog this year. It’s not like I’ve not been reading. Well, not very much, but I’ve been reading some good books this year. I just never got around to writing about them.
I want to say that my new year resolution for 2014 is to update this blog more often, but let’s face it, I’ve had this resolution for so many years now, it’s not funny.
So back to 2013.
I’ve read Vikas Swarup’s Six Suspects, which I really enjoyed. It wasn’t the type of book I would normally pick up from the bookshelves, but I was convinced to try it, not least because my partner had read the Chinese translated version, and got really excited about wanting to discuss it with me.
It was funny. Really. Not what I had expected at all.
I read Nadia Khan’s Kelabu. My first Malay-language book in a long while. The author’s a personal friend I recently got to know, which is also why I decided to give her book a try. Again, another good find. The ending wasn’t quite my cup of tea, but the build up was good, the style was very approachable, and I’ve just gotten her newest novel! Definitely going to try that one out in the coming months.
I read Yukio Mishima’s Madame de Sade. Very thin book written in the form of a play, which is yet another type of book I don’t usually read. (Wow, am I on a roll or what?) It took a little getting used to, because I had to constantly remind myself to see who is doing the talking. But once I got into the flow, I found the story very compelling. Now I feel like wanting to read the biography on Marquis de Sade.
I read Bonjour Tristesse, by Françoise Sagan. Another short book, new author. I remember finding it quite remarkable that the author was so young when she wrote this. Of course, there was a certain youth to the book and the style, which is, again, quite different from the types of books I usually read.
I don’t know what to say about the content, really. It all felt a little odd. Did I hate it? No. Did I love it? Not quite either. Perhaps I’m just not at a level where I can decipher it properly yet.
I’ve started reading some of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. Now, these, are the types of writing I’ve grown to love. It’s edgy, there’s a kind of simplicity to the style that just adds to the overall atmosphere of the stories. I especially loved The Black Cat, funny and chilly at the same time. Definitely my kind of author.
I’ve also started reading Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke. It was my bedside book for a long while – the letters reached that deep place in my heart during those quiet hours of the night. I don’t dare read it in the mornings, or when I’m less than fully immersed in the silence – it just feels like I’m not mentally and emotionally ready for it.
I’ve put it aside for now, because it’s just that time in my life now when things are so hectic, I don’t have “me” time anymore. Really, what’s the point in doing all this work if we can’t get a little peace and quiet, some time to just sit and stare at the ceiling and do nothing? Better yet, read?
It’s the end of the year in a couple of days. I feel like I need to say something that resembles a “goodbye” to the bad stuff this year, and “hello” to all the good things that will be coming in the next.
Things have actually been kind of great this year, despite all the complaints I may have. I’m starting to put my mark in an industry I could only dream of entering before this, and it looks like I’m moving forward in strides in the following year. I’m finally moving upwards, instead of sideways like the past three years. Instead of industry-hopping, I’m actually climbing up in one.
That’s got to mean something.
It’s the beginning of a new year in a couple of days. I’ve got some stuff up my sleeve, stuff that involves work and earning money, of course, but also stuff that involves my creative juices and not earning money.
I want to cook more. Read more. Write (not for work) more.
I want to be me, more.
Happy New Year.