This post is mostly about what I have to say on Bellezza’s latest (and can I say provocative?) post on the topic of going back to the basics of blogging. I’d really appreciate it if you could all visit Dolce Bellezza and read her honest thoughts. There she speaks about the virtues of staying true to ourselves as we blog, as well as her opinion on certain trends that are becoming more and more widespread in the blogging community. I’ve already posted my comments there, but in light of some recent events I felt the need to talk about it in my blog as well.

But before I go into that, please also allow me to express formal apologies to those who’ve written to me in hopes of having their books or websites featured, advertised, or reviewed here in my blog—and whom for that matter I’ve respectfully declined. I sincerely hope that each reply I’ve made have been satisfactory and by all means unoffensive. It’s flattering for me to have my humble site considered for such purposes, and though I regretfully cannot be of help to you, I do wish you all success in your respective ventures.

Now on the issue of going “back to basics,” I can say that for me it’s a matter of keeping my blog my own. I feel that if I were to write a post that is practically commercial or promotional in nature, my blog would no longer be my own, or at least not in the context that I would’ve liked it to be. I have no problems, however, with writing good reviews about books that I enjoyed reading, and I’m always happy to post links to their websites so that my readers would have access to excerpts and extra material, including links to online stores should the reader be interested enough to want to buy a copy. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong about it, but what I don’t want is for my posts to be tied to a promo. For me, writing about the things that made me love a book is quite different from simply posting a clear advertorial. And though I very much cherish the blogging community, my blog is also not a social networking site. I keep separate Facebook and Goodreads accounts for that purpose :) If ever I’m followed or recognized, I hope it’s for my writing and not for anything else.

I hope I don’t come off sounding like a hypocrite, though. I do have something that might be called “ties” with a publisher, but they only send me books that I personally requested after careful consideration. And I firmly believe that I always write only the truth in what I enjoyed about a book. I guess I’m just very fortunate that so far every book I’ve asked from publishers turned out to be good, if not great. Now that I think about it, it can also be said that I sometimes mix a bit of “business” in my blogging. But it’s only in the sense that I try to be professional and courteous when communicating with publishers and authors (especially when I’m being so bold as to ask for review copies of their books) and that I feature their works when I do find them enjoyable or worth reading. But I wouldn’t go as far as agreeing to promote a book I’m totally not interested in simply because I owe a publisher for giving me other free books that I’ve requested. I know for a fact that I’ve never lied about my impression of a book just to make it sound worth buying.

Like Bellezza, when I first started my blog I had no idea that it’d soon center around books and literature. My original plan was simply to create a space where I could place my thoughts and have it safely kept so that I can go back to them again in the future. I’ve tried it with a hand-written journal the year before, but it didn’t work very well for me mostly because I can never seem to compose my thoughts in order with just one go; the ability to re-read and then re-write has been very helpful to me. So, as you see, it is my intention to keep my blog as an archive of things that have come off my head. And now that it’s become primarily a book blog, it’s my desire to keep my posts centered on my readings—a blog that more or less carries the same feel of a personal journal (or reading notes, for that matter). There are a number of such sites that I very much admire, but there’s one in particular that I can say is a near-perfect (if not at all perfect) example of my ideal book blog. It’s Emily’s blog Evening All Afternoon. Its simple style and profound writing never fails to inspire me to try and achieve a higher standard of quality for my blog, mostly for myself but also for my readers’ benefit.


Now before I end this rather long post, I’d like to apologize for my absence in the blogging community (that is in case anyone has even noticed, hehe!) As much as I hate to blog about it, my 4-month-old laptop’s down at the service center again for more parts replacement, and you can all just guess how frustrating it can be to not have a computer at home for weeks. More than anything, I really feel bad about not having posted a book review for Carl’s RIP IV Challenge. I know of course that with the huge number of participants, my review would be so far from being missed but I felt like I’ve somehow let Carl down after having promised to participate in the challenge. It’s long past the deadline, but I’ll be sure to write and post my review of Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian as soon as I get my computer back.


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First of all, I’d like to wish Happy Reading! to everyone joining the 24-hour read-athon. Sorry I can’t join but I will be with you in spirit, as the saying goes.

Anyway . . .

Ever since I started reading two years ago, I knew that at some point I’d be looking back in time to examine earlier masterpieces in literature, particularly those written in the past century. This, I’ve long believed, would greatly benefit me by enriching my understanding and appreciation of the art.

The past will always be a special place, the natural foundation of where we now stand and an inspiration for what still lies ahead. So I’m convinced that it’s only necessary that I read the classics.

Here’s a list of books that I plan to read (and hopefully finish) by the end of the coming year. Some of these are widely regarded as timeless pieces, while some have only lately been added to the English canon as modern classics. All of these, I believe, are essential to my literary education.

  1. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)
  2. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (1861)
  3. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (1866)
  4. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (1869)
  5. Noli Me Tangere by Jose Rizal (1887)
  6. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925)
  7. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway (1926)
  8. To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf (1927)
  9. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner (1930)
  10. 1984 by George Orwell (1949)
  11. Lord of the Flies by William Golding (1954)
  12. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (1955)
  13. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee (1960)
  14. Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates (1961)
  15. The Godfather by Mario Puzo (1969)

Is there a particular book or author from the old days that you’d like to recommend? I’d love to hear your suggestions.

Actually the list above is more about the authors I want to be familiar with than it is about the books I don’t want to miss reading next year. The age of “The Lost Generation” has always had an appeal to me so the indisputable writers like Hemingway and Fitzgerald are at the top of my have-to-read list. And I chose The Great Gatsby because it seems to be a good introduction to Fitzgerald, though I’m also very curious about his other novel Tender is the Night (what an inviting title, don’t you think?). I’ve also recently read from Susan Bell’s wonderful essay “Revisioning The Great Gatsby” that the book is a masterpiece of not just writing but of editing as well. The work done by Fitzgerald and his editor Max Perkins has been said to be “one of history’s most rewarding editor-writer collaborations.” As for Hemingway, well I can still remember watching the biographical film about the author entitle In Love and War when I was a kid, so now—as I am just a sucker for love stories in times of war and conflict—I’m also interested in reading his novel A Farewell to Arms. And I’m equally anxious to read For Whom the Bell Tolls. I’ll read all of them, for sure. It’s just a matter of when. As for Faulkner, they said you have to read his works several times over in order to understand them. I’m inclined to try reading only once, and find out how much I manage to absorb.

There’s three Russian (at least by birth) authors on my list because I’m also very much intrigued by how much readers seem to take their works in high regard, almost as if having read them can serve as a testament to one’s mental prowess. Tolstoy’s War and Peace is an obvious choice for me, even though I’m intimidated by its length. As for Dostoevsky’s writing, now that I’ve heard is really intimidating. But I’m still inclined to try. Of the three—and of the entire list, actually—it’s Nabokov’s Lolita that I’ve long had second thoughts about. The premise is surely controversial, if not provocative, and I’ve long seen it in all-time lists like that of Time, Newsweek, and Esquire. And it intrigues me that Vanity Fair even dared to call it “the only convincing love story of our century.” This morning, a chat with Mee (of Books of Mee) has finally convinced me that I do want to read it. How about you, what do you think?

The Godfather and Revolutionary Road are comparatively new. If anything, they’re certainly “modern” classics. Along with many in the list above, I originally planned to have Revolutionary Road as one of my entries for the Books to Read Before I Die Challenge, but I decided to avoid fixed reading lists next year as I have a strong tendency to not follow them. I’ve already taken a peek at Revolutionary Road—as it came highly recommended by Claire (of Kiss a Cloud)—and my, the writing is just beautiful, very elegant and quite evocative. The very structure of the sentences itself makes me think that the 1950’s was really the golden age of American society (well, they had just won the war that time and were quickly growing into an international power, both in the political and cultural sense). But more than anything, I’m just amazed at how Claire always seems to suggest books and writers that I’m simply destined to love (like Oe, Marquez and Yates). Now I’ll just have to see how much I enjoy Woolf and Fitzgerald, though I have extremely little doubt that I would.

Finally, I come to Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere (or literally, Touch Me Not), and this one is such a long time coming. I was supposed to have read this book back in high school, as it’s part of the Philippine curriculum. But I barely did read it back then (and for that I also barely passed that class). Now I’m determined to read this fantastic national epic from cover to cover, and not even the old friars of the Spanish colonial era can stop me now.

Wow, this is too much talk already. It's time get back to my readings.


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The Beijing of Possibilities

Written by Jonathan Tel
Foreword by Helan Xiao


“Beijing is the center of the universe. Ask anybody who lives there.
‘The true Beijinger secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.’”

—in a foreword by Helan Xiao

Not everyone believes that America is the land of opportunity. For over a billion Chinese, Beijing is the place to be. It’s the political center of gravity for one of the world’s oldest civilizations—the heart of an emerging superpower where Communism is allied with Capitalism and superstition is a sage-like authority. And with a populace that has everything from beggars to bureaucrats, the place becomes a bustling megacity where a peculiar harmony between revolution, globalization and age-old tradition exists to create a world of immeasurable possibilities.

In his latest collection, Jonathan Tel examines life in contemporary Beijing and journeys with the reader across a fascinating city “where the unexpected is sure to happen.”

The first story, “The Year of the Gorilla,” has all the makings of a Chinese epic: a humble hero, a helpless maiden and a host of coldblooded villains. Here, a man in a gorilla suit discovers that being just a blog post away from instant stardom can be far worse than one might imagine. And speaking of stardom, “The Unofficial History of the Embroidered Couch” features a heroine that could well have been the star of a timeless classic. In this hilariously vicious tale, a Ming Dynasty princess seeks to escape the traditionally tragic fate of beautiful women in her era, but instead finds herself falling into a modern-day scandal. And equally amusing is “The Book of Auspicious and Inauspicious Dreams” where a young couple chances upon a hidden treasure and sets out to find the real owners who must have buried it decades ago to escape their dangerous identity. It’s a long funny tale which, at one point, is also a subtle reminder to a turbulent time in the country’s history—a time when being learned in the arts meant having to be “reeducated,” and having a “bourgeois” background meant suffering dire consequences.

“What has she lost?
A possibility. That’s all.
A future that will never happen.”

But the book is not without its heartwarming moments. In “The Three Lives of Little Yu,” a childless couple who refuses to age like “living ghosts” adopts a sickly baby girl only to lose her—and have her back again. And again. It’s a compelling tale that shows how even in a society known to favor male over female offspring, parents can still find it in their basic nature to shower a daughter with profound affection—even to one who isn’t originally their own. Then in “Santo Domingo,” the last and perhaps most dreamlike short story in the collection, a father is forced to follow a schedule synchronized with the people halfway around the globe. And as he goes about his days in near solitude—living in a time zone opposite to that of his family’s—he begins to imagine life in a culture exotic to his own and soon learns a lesson worthy of his son’s attention. It’s a touching tale of connection, and of how every human family is essentially just the same.

Finally in the book’s concluding chapter, Tel presents a full novella that recounts the life story of Helan Xiao, the passionate poet—and “true Beijinger”—from whom his witty and whimsical tales have been adapted. And much like the book itself, the story is an interesting mix of tragedy, comedy and irony that makes a fitting finale to a wonderful anthology.

Smart, stunning and surreal—that is The Beijing of Possibilities.

“For them, I was just another confusing, confused person in a nation where the unexpected is sure to happen.”


Thanks to Susan Wolf and Other Press for sending me a copy of this book.




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Now You’re One of Us

Written by Asa Nonami
Translated by Michael Volek and Mitsuko Volek


First of all, this is not a review.

As I was reading Nonami’s novel, it came to a point when I felt that I can no longer be objective in what I have to say about the book, so I just decided not to write a review. Of course, reviews are hardly ever objective in the purest sense (which probably wouldn’t be interesting anyway). But I also felt that I won’t be able to give this book a fair appraisal.

I’ve long come to learn that reading fiction entails being prepared for anything. When you open a book and begin to immerse yourself in someone else’s story, you accept the fact that you are entering a world completely beyond your control—from the first page up to the very last word. So an open mind is essential. However, I believe that we all have boundaries, and somehow somewhere we all set a line. I think we all have themes or topics that we never want to touch. And in this regard, I simply cannot bring myself to recommend the book with good conscience.

I’m writing this post only because I’ve already listed the book as one of my entries for the Japanese Literature Challenge, and some might be waiting for what I have to say about it. It would not be fair of me, however, to discuss what about the story brought me to this conclusion since it’s part of the dark mystery upon which the story rests. I can say that for the past couple of days I was actually looking forward to writing something about the book, and was even thinking of making it my entry for the Hello Japan! mini-challenge this month and also an addition to my RIP IV reads. But that feeling changed when I reached the story’s climax. For what it’s worth, I did still read the book from start to finish. It pains me that it has to be this way.

I will neither encourage nor discourage readers to try this book. One positive thing I can say about it though is that the English title, Now You’re One of Us, is one of the best titles I’ve come across this year. As with the book’s cover, it is both enticing and fitting. I’ve read that the original Japanese title doesn’t quite capture the essence of the story as well as the English title does.

Now, I’ll just leave you with a few passages from the book that I found interesting.


“No family can be summed up in a single word.”

“No one would believe how kind they were to her. Kazuhito’s love wasn’t a burning passion, but it was earnest, and he was committed to spending his life with her. Kimie and Fumie went about their days with smiling faces, and Ayano was friendly and endearing. Was it all a charade?”

“Sometimes it was impossible to cry even when one wanted to . . . Besides, they wouldn’t understand her feelings even if she did cry.
These are people who don’t understand tears.”

This is what it takes to marry into a new family. The important thing is compromise. Yes, it’s all about compromise.”


For information about the book, please just visit one of the following book sites:


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We humans have always had an intriguing (and sometimes somewhat perverse) interest in stories of our own demise. There is something about the fall of society, the crumbling of civilization, the spreading of chaos, and the end of life as we know it that seldom fails to touch the hearts of many. Thousands of dystopian societies have already risen and fallen in the annals of our imagination by way of books, poetry, paintings, and films. And they still keep coming—like ashes of scorched worlds blown away from future dark ages by torrential winds that go against time to reach our present, complacent era with a grave warning. Perhaps the idea is to avoid it while there’s still a way. For me, however, the road has now come to end.

Well, that is, as far as one reading challenge is concerned.

The dystopian reading challenge It’s the End of the World II has now ended. It ran from March 10 to October 9 this year and was hosted by Becky’s Book Reviews. Though it’s disappointing that I managed to read only one book from my original list of four, that one book—Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Road—is without a doubt one of my very best reads this year.

The Road is inescapably a bleak and somber story, but it’s also breathtaking. The story is about a father and son travelling the roads of a post-apocalyptic America where the day is nearly as dark as night and anarchy has overrun the entire nation. McCarthy’s distinct narrative form—both simple and superb—really drew me towards the characters, and I felt like I was enveloped with the same fears and hopes that they carried through their heartrending journey. After reading the book, it’s like I had so much to say but felt utterly speechless by the way it moved me. I absolutely recommend the book to anyone who hasn’t read it yet but loves literary fiction and doesn’t mind getting engulfed in deep-affecting drama. For anyone interested in reading my review, you can find it in this link.

One of the other books on my list was Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, which I still haven’t read to this day. However, through the generosity of Susan Wolf and Other Press, I was able to read a similar book during the duration of the challenge. The Unit by Ninni Holmqvist is another touching story set in a modern-day dystopian metropolis. In the world of Dorrit Wegner, there is no nuclear apocalypse, no massive meteor, and no alien invasion. There is no impeding global catastrophe. What there is, however, is an appallingly-practical national policy that determines who lives—and who dies—based on their economic significance. The story is reminiscent of Ishiguro’s tender yet painful tale of dystopian Britain except for one striking difference: Holmqvist’s dystopian setting has no element of science fiction; it can already happen. To read my review or browse a few pages of the book, please follow this link.

Dystopian fiction might offer a glimpse into our most unsettling fears, but at times they also take a close look at how we—as unruly citizens of a worldwide society—can be the very thing that we’re most afraid of.


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Absorbed in Words • Copyright © 2009 Mark David Gan