Book Review: "Something Borrowed"

Having read the likes of Sophie Kinsella and Cecelia Ahern when it came to the popular yet frowned upon genre of chick-lit I wanted to venture into deeper waters to find the wonders (or not) of this much enjoyed area of fiction. It didn't take me long to look up  and find a list of renowned authors and their remarkable work, I only had to decide which one to pick.

Right now I have in my book shelf some added names like Jane Green, Marian Keyes, Jennifer Weiner, Jen Lancaster and Emily Giffin to give Kinsella and Cecelia some company.

I started with Emily Giffin's Something Borrowed as the synopsis had me very interested.

Rachel White is a lawyer in NYC who hates her job and is single.., at thirty. She is the quintessential good girl, always playing by the rules somehow never getting what she wants. Darcy, her childhood best friend presents a complete contrast in being an extrovert; a beautiful  and spirited girl who has to have everything her way. It's a love-hate friendship as we see through the story how the simple Rachel puts up with the annoyingly narcissist behaviour of her best friend, never standing up for herself. Always letting Darcy have her way with everything, be that a bag pack or a boy crush. That is until she crosses the big 3 0. After one too many drinks at the birthday party Darcy throws for her, Rachel decides to throw caution to the wind and finds herself spending the night with Dexter; a handsome, amazing guy, her long time friend from law school, and Darcy's fiancé. Yikes!

She finds herself being attracted to and falling for a guy she should run from; what with her being the maid of honour for their wedding that's to take place in only a few months. Everything changes when Dex confesses his true feelings to Rachel. What follows is their secret affair that is considered a relationship since they both are in love, except for the tiny bit of him being already engaged. To her best friend.

Rachel is a girl we would all like; simple, plain and with a sweet disposition who truly loves Dex. I would hate my protagonist to be one, but Rachel is a doormat. The way she leaves the fate of her love life and friendship in the hands of Dex, and is ready to live with whatever he decides made sure I wouldn't include her in my list of favourite female protagonists.

The characterization of Darcy makes it very difficult to like or sympathise with her. Darcy's selfish and shallow character makes us root for Rachel, who has always been in the shadow of her effervescent best friend. She's a very trying character, annoyingly self-absorbed . She walks the planet like she owns it, believes everyone to be a puppet in her hands. Although there were times when you could tell that she has a good heart deep down, you soon realize it's way too deep to wager and probably lost for good. I happen to know a few people who resemble her so much that it was evident she would find no sympathy from me.

Giffin surely has the ability to take what we normally would look down upon, infidelity, betrayal etc and romanticize it. One of the characters puts it aptly when she says the world is not that black-and-white. The world has no moral absolutes. It's a good story, with relatable characters and a skewed yet likeable plot. Light, fun yet smart, this book is a complex and engrossing narrative about friendship.

On the whole, a good addition to the my women's fiction list. I haven't got around to reading the sequel, Something Blue, it's still sulking in my book shelf so I better be good and finish it.

Shantaram Quotes-Part 1

♥ It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn't sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when its all you have got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving,can become the story of your life.

♥ Every life, every love, every action and feeling and thought has its cause and its reason and significance: it's beginning, and the part it plays in the end. Nothing in any life, no matter how well or poorly lived, is wiser than failure and or clearer than sorrow. And in the tiny, precious wisdom that they give to us, even those dread and hated enemies, suffering and failure, have their reason and their right to be.

♥ To know the truth, all you have to do is close your eyes…. We can know God, for example, and we can know sadness. We can know dreams, and we can know love. But none of these are real, in our usual sense of things that exist in the world and seem real. We cannot weight them, or measure their length, or find their basic parts in an atom smasher. Which is why they are possible.

♥ I clenched my teeth against the stars. I closed my eyes. I surrendered to sleep. One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.

♥ There's a truth deeper than experience. It's beyond what we see, or even what we feel. It's an order of truth that separates the profound from the merely clever, and the reality from the perception. We're helpless, usually, in the face of it; and the cost of knowing it, like the cost of knowing love, is sometimes greater than any heart would willingly pay. It doesn't always help us to love the world, but it does prevent us from hating the world. And the only way to know that truth is to share it, from heart to heart, just as Prabhakar told it to me, just as I'm telling it to you now.

♥ I stood in the harsh electric light of that new tunnel, in Bombay's Arthur Road Prison, and I wanted to laugh. Hey guys, I wanted to say, can't you be a little more original? But I couldn't speak. Fear dries a man's mouth, and hate strangles him. That's why hate has no great literature: real fear and real hate have no words.

♥ My heart broke on its shame and sorrow. I suddenly knew how much crying there was in me, and how little love. I knew, at last, how lonely I was. But I couldn’t respond.  My culture had taught me all the wrong things well.  So I lay completely still, and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nations. The soul has no colour or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moment of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.

♥ The cloak of the past is cut from patches of feeling, and sewn with rebus threads. Most of the time, the best we can do is wrap it around ourselves for comfort or drag it behind us as we struggle to go on. But everything has its cause and its meaning. Every life, every love, every action and feeling and thought has its reason and significance: its beginning, and the part it plays in the end. Sometimes, we do see. Sometimes we see the past so clearly and read the legend of its parts with such acuity, that every stitch of time reveals its purpose, and a kind of message is unfolded in it.

♥ Cruelty is a kind of cowardice. Cruel laughter is the way cowards cry they are not alone, and causing pain is how they grieve.

♥ Every human heartbeat is a universe of possibilities. Every human will has the power to transform its fate. I’d always thought that fate was something unchangeable: fixed for everyone of us at birth, and as constant as the circuit of stars. The truth is that, no matter what kin of game you find yourself in, no matter how good or bad the luck, you can change your life completely with a single thought or a single act of love.

Leaving you to appreciate and ponder over these for today. More later. Peace.

SHANTARAM

When a friend who is not an avid reader or stays away from books as much as he/she can help it, asks which one to read, I almost always suggest Shantaram. I know there are whole other choices and really great ones too, but there’ something about this book that has everyone hooked to it from the word go. And to me it’ll always be a special one; my first love when it comes to books. Many ask why, why is it that I feel so strongly about it right from the time I read it in 2005 even to this day. You know how you go through a phase in life and find comfort in the most unexpected quarters? This was it for me.
Charles W. Eliot had said that ‘Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counsellors, and the most patient of teachers’. Shantaram was all that and more for me then when nothing else seemed to make sense and life wasn’t a happy picture;

And so I hold it above every other. I’m too much in awe and in love with it to possibly write a review of this marvel by Gregory David Roberts.
Instead, posting a few lines from the book that make me realise what a masterpiece this book is every single time I read it is a better option. Trying to limit them to a sane number will be a difficult task since there are umpteen quotes, paragraphs, pages even that strike a chord and leave their mark forever.
Simply put, the only way to do justice to this book is to read it, cover to cover. These are words that have spoken to so many readers all over, but to each they seem to be written only for their own self; such is the intimacy, such is the bond, such is the wisdom.
P.S Read it before the movie is out. Movies always ruin your experience of a great read.
P.P.S EVERY person who has read this book has loved it. Fact. Just sayin’.

The Count of Mounte Cristo- A Review

The Count of Monte Cristo

Having read Alexander Dumas’ The Three Musketeers as a kid and absolutely loving it, it didn’t take long for me to pick up a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo, to escape into a world of adventure and heroism, tragedy and treasure, utter despair and vengeance, unfailing gratitude and generosity, of lost love and disguises, of fate and hope and more…

Dumas’ hero, Edmond Dantès is at the threshold of a perfect life. He is about to become the captain of a ship, engaged to a beautiful woman, Mercédès, the love of his life. He is admired by almost everyone who knows him. This perfect life, however, stirs up dangerous jealousy among some of Dantès’s so-called friends who
wrong him hence causing him to lose everything that he held dear. His one innocent act of delivering a letter, the contents of which are unknown to him, and the plotting of his enemies against him land him in a dungeon where he is to spend the rest of his days, till life itself betrays him. Thus thrown into such formidable conditions, he must face his fate alone with his wits, courage and an immense fortune put in his path he begins his journey to seek justice against those whose greed and evil ways cost him everything he ever had and so nearly made him lose his sanity and life.

From Edmond Dantès to the various faces that emerge as the story unfolds the reader gets to ride along with the sheer audacity of the Count, the unshakeable belief of the priest in a Just God, the generosity of the English Lord to the deserving, and the mysterious ways of Sindbad the Sailor.

In a single word: Enthralling.

Sit with me

Their incessant chatter and laughter made the clamorous platform a lot more noisy. Passers-by rightly guessed they were students. Young 16 year olds, off for a college vacation..yes..there was no doubt about that given the enthusiasm and excitement their laughter and merry talk was exuding.

It wasn’t infectious though. She wished it was. Standing a little away from the group, she looked at them with a feeling she couldn’t quite describe…these were her college mates, familiar faces, yet….
yet none was her friend. She admitted it. This was clearly a mistake. She regretted her decision. How could she be a part of it when she clearly wasn’t one of them? She tried in vain to find that initial eagerness she had.

She tried to tell herself she would make new friends. *sigh* No.

No she wouldn’t. She never could. She was the life and soul of a party, she was the centre of all things fun with her friends. But…she was bad at making new friends. Shy. Silly. True. She was but 16. Still. She told herself she’d enjoy the place. I doubt it said a voice inside her. She needed company. Her friends had bailed out. Alone. She looked at them again. Apparently she was invisible.*sigh* They were clicking pictures, their vacation had begun. Fun.

She felt alien. The other girl was voicing her exact thoughts. Prattling away about how she regrets not staying back. Shut up already! Damage done. Now she wistfully thought of the her friends, the cute guy she had a crush on forever, they had planned for the holidays together, they still would carry on with it. Without her. She was off on a vacation. With strangers. She wanted to cry.

There’s the signal. They get in. Too late.. too late…she thought. Bade goodbye to her parents, completely ignorant of the uneasiness she was feeling. Smile. For them. Wave. A little more enthusiastically. Turn. Pretence not needed now. Her shoulders drop. *sigh*. She walks along the long corridor to get to her compartment. Empty, save the ranting girl. *sigh* She sits next to the window. Great start she thought bitterly. The others have all disregarded the instructions given and were all assembled in one compartment, having a ball.

Lonely. No… it will be good. It won’t.

It was all crashing down. Every effort to look cheerful. This was a vacation! She should be thrilled. Then why was she so upset? She felt like now she could cry… or was she already? No. No she wouldn’t. Distraction. She looked outside the window. Stare out at the passing fields. Kids waving. Yes. Distraction. She shouldn’t be miserable. No she wasn’t. This was a vacation. Smile. Smile. Be happy. She wasn’t! Why wasn’t she? She couldn’t. Upset. Forlorn. She hated that very instant the fact that she was incredibly shy. She didn’t want to be. She didn’t have to be. But she was. Silly. Making new friends was daunting? No. Still. Getting past a few minutes seemed laborious! She had the entire week ahead. Depressing. She wished she was not on this train. She could now hear them sing. Stupid. Stupid me, she thought to herself for the millionth time that evening. She closed her eyes. Feeling the wind on her face as the train picked up speed, chugging along noisily. The sounds unsuccessful in drowning the singing. She tried to also block out the rants of the other girl now painfully describing what might’ve been. A smack on the face with her heavy bag would shut her up, she thought. She smiled at that picture. She sighed. She heard someone rush past her compartment giggling. She returned to concentrating on the rhythm of the train. Giggling. Block it out. It was getting closer, they would pass by again. Eyes still closed. Concentrate. Calm. Why aren’t they giggling their way back?

‘Hey!’ ..she opened her eyes. A curly haired girl from the group had stopped right in the middle of the compartment, smiling. A subdued hi was all she got in reply. ‘Why are you sitting here all alone?’. She too seemed to ignore the irritating girl who thankfully was quiet now. “Well I don’t really know anyone that well’’. Apparently it was amusing. The bubbly excited girl without a moments hesitation smiled the warmest smile ever. “Arre..that’s no problem yaar..come sit with me!!!”

:)

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Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

- Edgar Allan Poe

Another favourite of mine, this poem speaks of sorrow, rejection, the feeling of being marked an outcast,  but also of courage, of the truth that beauty is still prevalent and there's much more to an individual than what meets the eye. Different people have a different way of interpreting this poem of Poe, which was a clear reflection of what he had gone through. A troubled childhood, being a 'misfit', reaching out to hope and happiness but constantly being surrounded by a 'demon'.

There are times when you know the world is not entirely a bad place,  you see, you feel, you know that there is hope, but then there is always some reason to feel not good enough. There's always something negating it. You always find something that stops you from experiencing for yourself the happiness that surrounds you, and you are all but trapped by this constant demon taking various forms at every turn of the road. The knowing that it's just better to be alone than to have others subjected to your  misery..and have them abandon you eventually anyway.

This poem is about existing on a different wavelength, and loneliness as the consequence. But then again being different doesn't necessarily mean being depressed always. For there is still that one force that binds us all.  Instead of giving way to the external influence, holding on to your beliefs and passions. It's also about finding inspiration. Being proud and finding beauty. Truly being able to see everything for what it is. Changing your perspective. Also being mindful, whether you're on the path of light or dark, keeping sure that it is YOUR path that you choose. Being mindful because you may never find someone like you that you can compare your life to. You can never know for sure if your actions and feelings are good or bad for that reason, you can only question yourself and move on.

Be alone. Be yourself. Have no regrets.

Can You Keep a Secret?

Long ago I’d spent almost an entire year reading just the English Classics, from the Brontë sisters to Jane Austen, from Alexander Dumas to William Shakespeare, from W.Somerset Maugham to O.Henry, J.D Salinger, George Elliot etc(one year, 365 days, has to be a long list!) I was craving for a change from it and I happened to come across Can You Keep a Secret by Sophie Kinsella. After a year of spending time in the countryside of England, in the stately manors where the only entertainment for the young was dancing at the balls, playing on the pianoforte et all, I was in for a refreshing change. I love the classics mind you, but then a genuinely funny, light read novel was the need of the hour and this book fit the bill.

The story starts off with Emma Corrigan (the heroine), on a plane ride back home from a disastrous meeting, blurting out her most embarrassing secrets to the stranger sitting next to her. This due to a turbulence in the plane causing great panic which leads her to think there’s going to be a crash and she’s going to die. Safe landing, a very much alive Emma Corrigan and a very amused stranger (who wouldn’t be when you tell them all about your…).

But to her surprise she finds that the very stranger is the CEO of the company she works in as a Junior Marketing Assistant! The fun begins when she also finds out that he remembers every single secret of hers! What follows is their many funny/awkward encounters, Emma Corrigan’s place in her family, her snob of a cousin Kerry, her office crisis (boss who won’t give a raise, colleague who treats her like another paperweight on her table etc), and her ‘perfect’ boyfriend Connor.

This story might be just another addition to the style of chick-lit fiction but I found it quite entertaining, probably since this was the first of Sophie Kinsella’s that I read. Yes it has a dash of the fairy-tale element to it but hey who says fairytales are only for kids?! The part where we read her deepest secrets is the best because it suddenly dawns on us that even though they’re plain silly we too have a number of such secrets which we would NEVER share with another soul although they are very very petty and insignificant. Oh and not to forget, the happy ending! I enjoyed it much more than the rest of Kinsella’s books, for after reading the entire Shopoholic series and the rest of her books I found a repetitive pattern in them and the same formula was being used which got a bit tiring to read.

This book is a light, funny, quirky and enjoyable read that will make you feel all warm and fuzzy. For all those who think age does not necessarily shatter the illusions(illusions with a probability of turning into reality maybe!) that you endeared as a child, and it doesn’t stop you from enjoying a pleasant read, Can You Keep a Secret will prove to be just that.

It’s been more than two years since I first read this book, but even now when I feel like reading without troubling my grey cells I almost always pick this book again.

Happy reading!

When we two parted

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

~Lord Byron.





Four years back one day en route to some place I don’t remember I see this sign board that said ‘A1 book store- for all book lovers’. I step in and find a huge hall filled with books, old and new, mostly old. Every inch was covered, they reached the roof of that place and so I had a very good feeling about it. It was my treasure trove! After spending nearly 3 hours in that place I had with me 15 books I wanted to take back home. One among them was an old copy of a collection of poems by Lord Byron, Keats and P.B.Shelly. (For some reason I love the smell and feel of an old book) I found in that book this amazing work of Lord Byron, I instantly fell in love with. This poem was the first of Lord Byron’s work that I read, and one of his best. This one undoubtedly makes it to my list.

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Poetry

To Think..,

To Love..,

To Suffer.., is to seek poetry…



Or a major part of it at least. Whatever the history, the various forms and conventions, the genre, the culture, there is always this that Poetry is beautiful. Period.


These are the same words used by the entire world, and yet they are not. They are woven around emotions and thought in a way that gives them a life of their own, a beauty unparalleled and a meaning so simple yet so deep. I for one have always loved this game of words, its simple complexity, the way it sounds, it has been something I’ve turned to when I needed to put forth my thoughts in words in a way that would do justice to them. It’s like the Midas touch, every word, every syllable, the rhyme, the rhythm all turns into something precious, like pure gold.

So for the love of Poetry, here in this category I’m going to post a poem each from among my favourites (in no particular order), for you to read and appreciate.

This corner is for all those who love Poetry and for those who think otherwise here’s a little something…

Sir, I admit to your general rule

That every poet is a fool

But you yourself may serve to show it

That every fool is not a poet!

Hahahaha.. Right back at you! Enjoy!

Calvin and Hobbes

I remember reaching for the newspaper first thing in the morning and flipping past all those pages with incomprehensible intimidating words to the page with all the wonderful looking, coloured cartoons being funny, comic strips! My all time favourites are Garfield and Calvin and Hobbes, and of the two the latter tops the list. And that hasn't changed, even today as soon as I'm up I need to say hello to my favourite pair ever(even though the comic strip ended more than a decade back)and so I start my day with a smile.. a quiet laugh too sometimes.. :)

From Calvin's fantasies about adventures and his friendship with Hobbes, to their humorous antics, to the thought provoking philosophical and ethical questions these two raise, they are simply adorable in their best and worst days.

''Reality continues to ruin my life''

''As a math atheist, I should be excused from this.''

Calvin: I'm a genius, but I'm a misunderstood genius. Hobbes: What's misunderstood about you? Calvin: Nobody thinks I'm a genius.

''I think life should be more like tv. I think all of life's problems ought to be solved in 30 minutes with simple homilies, don't you? I think weight and oral hygiene ought to be our biggest concerns. I think we should all have powerful, high-paying jobs, and everyone should drive fancy sports cars. All our desires should be instantly gratified. Women should always wear tight clothes, and men should carry powerful handguns. Life overall should be more glamorous, thrill-packed, and filled with applause, don't you think?''

"Do you believe in the devil? You know, a supreme evil being dedicated to the temptation, corruption, and destruction of man?"
"I'm not sure that man needs the help."

"I'm learning real skills that I can apply throughout the rest of my life ... Procrastinating and rationalizing."

...Some of my personal favourite C&H quotes... :) A smile ensured!

Bill Watterson, THANK YOU! :)

P.S.Today's strip=SO ME!

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="518" caption="Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson"][/caption]