Angela Carter - Fireworks

After being absolutely delighted with The Magic Toyshop, which has probably been my favourite book this year, I picked up Fireworks, a collection of short stories by Angela Carter. At the very outset, I should say this: I'm not the biggest fan of short stories. Sure, there are exceptions, but, more often than not, I don't like them. Character build-ups aren't great, the plots are predictable, and the last grasp plot twists sometimes make me cringe. I wasn't sure what to expect with this collection, but I decided to give it a fair shot. After all, no point having preconceived notions, right?

Fireworks is a collection of nine bizarre short stories, all of which belong to the 'magical realism' genre. There are surreal stories about reflections, and mirrors, a freakish story about puppets (reminiscent of The Magic Toyshop), a scary story about children in a forest, where the plants are carnivorous. The stories touch upon topics, like incest, rape, loneliness and estrangement. The writing, as expected, is beautiful:

She sprang towards the exquisite, odoriferous tree which, at the moment, suffused in failing yet hallucinatory light the tone and intensity of liquefied amber, seemed to her brother a perfect equivalent of his sister's amazing beauty, a beauty he had never seen before that filled him, now, with ecstasy. The dark pool reflected her darkly, like an antique mirror. She raised her hand to part the leaves in search of a ripe fruit but the greenish skin seemed to warm and glow under her fingers so the first one she touched came as easily off the stem as if it had been brought to perfection by her touch.

However, I found myself reading a lot of the stories, and thinking, "what's the point of this, if any?" I can't really pinpoint what was missing, but, I just didn't enjoy this book. I am going to attribute it to the fact that short stories aren't my cup of tea. However, if you like short stories, gothic magical surrealism, and parallelisms drawn with things you identify (e.g. The Original Sin), am sure you'll like it.

Rating: 3

Jeff Lindsay - Dexter In The Dark

Dexter In The Dark is the third book in Lindsay's gripping series, and this one has probably been my favourite so far, which is saying a lot, since I've lapped these books up faster than a starving cat laps up a bowl of milk. Dexter (of the "Deadly Dimples") finds himself engaged to Rita, accidentally, and he has a wedding to plan. However, that's not what's on Dexter's mind. The inner Dark Passenger seems to have absconded, and Dexter is unable to find him, or determine why he's departed. If something's scared it off, it must be serious....

A series of heinous murders take place at the University, and Deborah, Dexter's sister, is the lead detective on the case. As usual, she relies on Dexter's unequivocal help, but due to the missing Passenger, Dexter is lost, lonely, and seems to be "in the dark", whereas earlier he found it easy enough to identify something unique about the crimes - a clue, a lead, just... something. The victims have their heads chopped off, and replaced with a bull's, and their bodies are baked crisp. Is it a cult crime? Something darker? Something more sinister?

For me, what made this book stand out, compared to its predecessors is Dexter, and him actually showing emotions: from snapping at Deborah, to acting as mentors to Rita's two kids, from showing his fears and vulnerabilities, to acting on impulse and pragmatism. And, the story itself goes back a few thousand years, to Solomon's time, and it brings to light a darker force, that has successfully scared off Dexter's inner companion, the 'thing' he fondly refers to as the Dark Passenger - but, what really is the Dark Passenger?

Rating: 4.5

Jeff Lindsay - Dearly Devoted Dexter

I'm going through a bit of a Dexter phase at the moment. I blame it on the fact that these are borrowed books, and I hate hanging on to borrowed books for too long. Plus, these books are seriously addictive, and keep you hooked on for dear life. Dexter is charming, charismatic, and committed - to killing the bad guys. He's also 'devoted' to his sister, Sergeant Deborah, and while he insists that he's not capable of feeling love, this book has a lot of "Dimpled Dexter" to the rescue references, for each time Deborah calls on him for help. He just can't say no! This book is slightly more morbid and disturbing than the first in the series: a torturer is on the loose, and he doesn't kill. Instead, he dismembers the body beyond recognition, and leaves the "living flesh" under a mirror so they can see themselves, limbless, eyeless, noseless, earless, lipless, genital-less... you get the idea, right? He gives them enough painkillers (barbiturates) to ensure they don't die of shock, and his surgical skills surpass excellence, as the wounds all seem to heal, and there's no blood involved. Dexter, in his dark humor, refers to the torturer at large as 'Dr. Dismember'.

Deborah seeks Dexter's help to prove a point to her newly-found Washington lover who has taken over the case, but Dexter just wants to be left alone. That's not the only thing on his mind, though. Sergeant Doakes has a sneaking suspicion about Dexter's "hobby", and he tails him continuously, to catch Dexter in the act. The Dark Passenger inside is contained by sheer determination and patience - but how long will it be 'til Dexter gives in to his greater power? And finally, Rita's getting really close, and has been thinking about marriage. But, Dexter, the emotionless reclusive bachelor, is not a family man...

There was nothing in the refrigerator remotely worth eating, unless you were a feral dog. Very disappointing: Dexter is a healthy boy with a high metabolism, and facing what was sure to be a difficult day on an empty stomach was not a happy thought. I know family comes first, but shouldn't that mean after breakfast?

Ah, well. Dauntless Dexter would make a sacrifice once again. Pure nobility of spirit, and I expect no thanks, but one does what one must.

I don't know, but with his dark sense of humor, and his supreme intelligence, it's actually hard not to get fond of Dexter, despite questioning some aspects of his moral code, which he strictly adheres to, even if it is at his own inconvenience. The more I read, the more addicted I am. One more book at hand...

Rating: 4

Jeff Lindsay - Darkly Dreaming Dexter

I'm guessing that most of you must have heard of Dexter (the TV show is really popular at the moment) - Blood spatter specialist by day, serial killer by night? But, he's a serial killer with a conscience - you see, he only kills the people who deserve to die. The pedophiles, the rapists, the evil nurse.

And, he does it artfully. Neatly. Covers his tracks, and makes sure he's never caught. Because that's what Harry taught him - Harry, his foster father, who is now dead, but his voice still echoes in Dexter's head, as a guiding light. Dexter has an inner Dark Passenger that takes over, and leaves him with an urge to kill. Harry, an ex-cop, did understand that, and inculcated in Dexter the moral code: Kill only those who deserve to die. He also taught Dexter the basics, to ensure he was never caught: fit in, dress well, have a normal job, have a girlfriend, and always cover your traces.

The book is written in first person, narrated by Dexter. In the first book of this series, another serial killer is in town, and his practices and methods seem to mirror Dexter's. All the blood is drained, the bodies are cut into numerous "neat" pieces, and disposed off in garbage disposal bags. Deborah, Dexter's foster sister, is an aspiring detective, and she seeks Dexter's help, for Dexter seems to have a "knack" to figure out these crimes. Dexter, on the other hand, needs to figure out if he wants to get "emotionally involved" with this serial killer, or help his sister, who's been having a hard time, courtesy another detective on the force.

What would I do? I need to decide now, before I get too helpful for Deborah. I could help her solve this, absolutely, no one better. Nobody else was even moving in the right direction. But did I want to help? Did I want this killer arrested? Or did I want to find him and stop him myself? Beyond this - oh, nagging little thought - did I even want him to stop?

As the killings increase, Dexter finds himself more involved, so much so that he thinks that the killer on the loose is speaking to him directly, or, that he's losing his mind. Which one is it?

By no means is this book perfect - the plot is not the strongest, and it's not a literary masterpiece. However, the book is a page-turner, like no other. Dexter's character is amazing, and sometimes, I had to avert my eyes from the page and shake my head, because I really couldn't believe what I was reading. It's funny, serious, and point-blank. Dexter doesn't really mince words.

By four-thirty in the morning, the priest was all cleaned up. I felt a lot better. I always did, after. Killing makes me feel good. It works the knots out of darling Dexter's dark schemata.

If you like page-turners, that are slightly dark, slightly disturbing, go ahead and pick this up. You will not be disappointed, for Dexter really is unforgettable, and, in his own way, he's charismatic as well!

Rating: 3.5

J.M. Coetzee - Summertime

And so, my Booker shortlist (2009) journey continues with Coetzee's fictional memoir, which completes the trilogy, already containing Boyhood and Youth. I haven't read either of them, so, I wasn't sure what to expect with Summertime, although my experience with Coetzee told me it wouldn't be a very "summertime" book. Needless to say, I was right! However, this is a well-written, clever book, which comes across as part fictional, part real. A research student, Mr. Vincent, is planning to write a biography of the Nobel Prize winner after his death. After scouring the late author's journals, and reading his books, Vincent interviews five people he deems important to Coetzee in the 1970s - the time this novel focuses on.

The novel is essentially paraphrasing the interviews, with the interviewees comments interlaced with the interviewer's questions, so that it reads as a conversation. Through these conversations, we get a glimpse into the life and times of John C (see what I did there?), as he perceives himself through the eyes of his cousins, friends, lovers and acquaintances.

Coetzee's well-known to be a recluse, and this novel affirms that, with its self-deprecating prose, and harsh insights - some of which may be true, and most of which is pure fabrication!

"Coetzee was never a popular writer. By that I do not simply mean that his books did not sell well. I also mean that the public never took him to their collective heart. There was an image of him in the public realm as a cold and supercilious intellectual, an image he did nothing to dispel. Indeed one might even say he encouraged it.

Julia, the first interviewee, refers to John as a "cold fish", while his cousin thinks he's "stuck up". A lady he was supposedly in love with says, "Not sexless. Solitary. Not made for conjugal life. Not made for the company of women," while one of his teaching partners describes his writing as being far from great: "Too cool, too neat, I would say. Too easy, too lacking in passion. That is all."

However, while this is almost a fascinating revelation on Coetzee, it does raise a number of pertinent questions: Just because Coetzee won the Nobel Prize, does he deserve the attention he's getting? Specially, as Vincent is looking for a "story", and all he's getting is snippets that show Coetzee's unsocial, slightly disembodied personality.

And, what drives us to look after our parents, after a certain age? Is it a responsibility? Is it a necessity? And, can we run away from that filial duty? Or, do we succumb to it? More importantly, is it about love? Or, the right thing to do?

Again, in a typically Coetzee fashion, he touches upon life in South Africa in the 1970s, as the social climate was slowly changing, but the gap between the Afrikaner and the white man was still vast. He talks of how people fled the country, in "stormy times", and how people returned when they had nowhere else to go. There's also an element of the interests of black students, and white students, and how they differ - specially when you toss in the "radical black students".

It's a thought-provoking gentle book - not as hard to read as some of his other books - but, it still draws you in, and lets you peep into the heart and mind of someone who's almost considered socially inept, despite his genius. He might not be the most loveable person out there, but his self-criticism, romanticism, affection and determination really grew on me, and I half-wish I had the opportunity of knowing him, and arguing with him: principles over pragmatism. That makes two of us.

Rating: 4.5

Sarah Waters - The Little Stranger

This is the first book on the Booker shortlist that I've tackled this year, and I have to admit that my opinion on the book remains ambivalent. Having finished Fingersmith a couple of weeks back, I expected a lot more from The Little Stranger - more twists and turns, and surprises. Ironically, what makes The Little Stranger good is the subtlety and the lack of hyperbolism - that the story isn't swept away by the author's imagination, to degenerate into a run-of-the-mill horror story. Set in post-war 1947, in Warwickshire, the story is narrated by the pragmatic Dr. Faraday. One day, he is called to the Hundreds Hall, to treat the maid, and there he re-acquaints himself with the once wealthy Ayres family, whose fortunes have faded with time. He remembers the time when he visited the exquisite mansion, as a young boy, to be presented a commemorative medal, and he marvels at its dilapidated condition now.

Once he "treats" Betty, he continues to find reasons to return to the Hundreds Hall, as he recalls its past splendours, and juxtaposes that against the present state. He befriends the family, becomes almost indispensable to them, and the family themselves seek his company - they have few visitors now-a-days, and they do not invite their old friends as they are ashamed of the present.

The family constitutes of Mrs. Ayres, the lady of the house; Caroline, her plain eldest child, and Roderick, who was severely injured during the War, and still has a limp. He now looks after the estate, by selling plots of land and living off its capital, while trying to protect his mother and sister from seeing how bad things truly are.

One night, the Ayres decide to have a party, to welcome their new neighbours, but things go frightfully wrong, and its during this party that the story actually kicks off. Rod does not attend the party due to a headache, but after the party, Rod seems to succumb to his "nerves problem" and eventually suffers a nervous breakdown of sorts.

As the story progresses, it seems as though there is an unwelcome "mischief-maker" in the house. But, whom, or what, is causing the mischief? There's no evident answer - what is clear, though, is that the Ayres are glad to have the services of Dr. Faraday, who rationalises and provides a scientific explanation for every event - something that probably comes naturally to most doctors.

While Dr. Faraday narrates the events, and provides the reader with a glimpse of the emotions of all the characters, he also successfully draws on the changing political, economic and social climate. He's worried about his own future, after the National Health Service is established, for he fears he will lose his patients. He's concerned about the Ayres, and their large estate being turned into council houses - something that happened to numerous mansions and grounds at the time. He highlights the changing class system, by stating the comment from Roderick early on in the book: "I gather that neglecting servants is a capital offence these days".

The book also raises many interesting topics, in terms of society and how times change, and how important it is for the people to change with times. The general opinion on the Ayres misfortune is based on them being stuck in their glorious past, as opposed to adapting with the times. It brings out the role of a doctor, and what drives a typical doctor, in a day where money and fame wasn't altogether prominent in the occupation. Simultaneously, it also shows how self-righteous and know-it-all-ish doctors can be, with Dr. Faraday more than once saying "I know so", when asked what he thought about something. Most importantly, it indicates how losses and heartbreaks can haunt people, and twist the hands of their fate.

However, my main gripes with the book was that occasionally, the writing fell flat, and, I just didn't feel the Warwickshire atmosphere. I went to university at Warwick, and I didn't really feel the essence of that, despite Waters dropping the names of the towns and cities around, like Leamington, Coventry, and Kenilworth. Also, as already mentioned, I missed the surprise factor which made Fingersmith so incredibly addictive.

Rating: 3

Note: I can't help wondering if I would have rated this book differently, if I hadn't read Fingersmith recently.

Lloyd Jones - Mister Pip

Set in Papua New Guinea, in the 1990s, this book is narrated by Matilda, an adolescent, who witnesses the horrors of civil war first hand. The book opens with many people fleeing the island, and it being lost to the outside world, as the 'redskins' (the government soldies) and the 'rambos' (rebels) advances.

One white man ("the last white man on the island"), however, commonly referred to as Pop Eye, stays on in the village, despite the odds of him fleeing being far greater than some of the others. Mr. Watts is his name, and he's a massive fan of Dickens. The responsibility of teaching the children falls on him, and he reads them the epic novel, Great Expectations, which allows the children's imagination to run away to the Victorian England, and befriend Pip (the protagonist of Great Expectations).

During the blockade, we could not waste fuel or candles. But as the rebels and the redskins went on butchering one other, we had another reason for hiding under the cover of night. Mr. Watts had given us kids another world to spend the night in. We could escape to another place. It didn't matter that it was Victorian England. We found we could easily get there. It was just the blimmin' dogs and the blimmin' roosters that tried to keep us here.

The redskins mistake Pip to be an actual person, though - the result of a shrine created by Matilda on the beach - and, they initiate a horrific manhunt, which leads to the thin line between reality and fiction being erased. Houses and possessions are burnt down, makeshift roofs are created, and the children continue trying to find an escape in the world so artfully created by Dickens.

This is an amazing book, that brings in multifarious cultural thoughts and highlights the great divides. For example, Matilda's mother believes that Mr. Watts is not providing the children with proper education, due to the lack of religious education. Instead, he spends time talking of a fictional character which doesn't exist, and says that the devil is a symbol.

It's barbaric, emotional, heart-wrenching and fascinating. There's despair, which is always highlighted by hope. There are sacrifices made, nightmarish experiences, death, and the consequences of each decision render the reader awed and despondent. I cannot help but wonder what would've been, if Matilda's mother had not made that one impulsive decision...

The power of story-telling, the wonder of literature, and the importance of the imagination are themes so beautifully brought out, that they almost perfectly accentuate the diabolic war. Beauty and ugliness will always be held in the same hand.

This is the second book by Lloyd Jones that I've read in recent times, and I have to say that I found The Book Of Fame more lyrical, although the story didn't really appeal to me. However, the story of Mister Pip is amazing, but I found myself yearning for the writing present in The Book Of Fame.

Rating: 4

Sarah Hall - How To Paint A Dead Man

I wasn't planning on reading the entire Booker long list, prior to the short list being announced. However, there were a couple of books that intrigued me, and Sarah Hall's How To Paint A Dead Man was one of them. Initially, I was torn between Heliopolis (James Scudamore) and this one, but, I held both of them in my hand, and for some unexplainable reason, How To Paint A Dead Man just grabbed my attention a little bit more.

It's a bizarre book, in terms of the plot (if you can call it that). The book works on alternating stories of four characters across different decades and places, who are loosely connected. Hence, the story continuously goes back and forth in time, exploring the characters, on each of the chapters.

There's one set of chapters called The Mirror Crisis, which the book opens with. It introduces Susan, whose twin brother, Danny, has just passed away in an accident. The opening paragraph just won me over, and I knew I'd love the book, simply based on that.

You aren't feeling like yourself. You haven't been feeling like yourself for a while now, not since the accident. More accurately, not since the moment you heard about it. That morning, that minute, holding the phone to your ear and hearing your father say those horrific words; it was then you felt the change, then when you were knocked out of the kilter. You're not sure what's wrong exactly; it's hard to put your finger on, hard to articulate. It isn't grief. Grief would be simple. Something internal, something integral, has shifted. You feel lost from yourself. No. Absent. You feel absent. It's like looking into a mirror and seeing no familiar reflection, no one you recognize hosted within the glass.

Dealing with her twin's loss, Susan finds comfort in the arms (and bed) of her friend's husband, as she tries to deal with the shock of losing someone who was once a part of her - when she referred to everything as "We", not "I".

The second set of chapters is called Translated from the Bottle Journals goes back in time, to the life of an Italian artist, who is doing his final "masterpiece," as he approaches his final few days.

And then you have the third, The Fool On The Hill, which comes back to the present (kind-of), and refers to Peter, Susan's father. During his younger days, he would write to the Italian artist with ideas, and now, he's a famous landscape artist. However, he's abundant in his vulnerability, and is dealing with a mid-life crisis, trying to do his daughter proud. However, an accident leaves him trapped in the hills, with his left leg stuck, and as he struggles to get out, he reflects on his life, his first marriage, and how things have panned out.

And finally, you have The Divine Vision of Annette Tambroni: another collection of chapters that goes back in time, and focuses on a young girl, who has lost her sight, and is now a flower seller. She was taught by the Italian when he was lecturing at school, and was a prized student. After his death, Annette, despite her blindness, continues to visit him (and her father) in the cemetery, and contemplates on the Bestia, a monster whose presence she keeps feeling around her.

The story just trickles on, and you're lost in a world of beautiful writing, and heartbreaking narratives.

Of all the conditions we experience, solitude is perhaps the most misunderstood. To choose it is regarded as irresponsible or a failure. To most, it should be avoided, like an illness. Inside solitude people see the many compartments of unhappiness, like the comb of a pomegranate.

It gets difficult to read at times, due to the lack of continuity or relation between the four stories. However, I did end up feeling perfectly happy losing myself in the story, and sympathizing with the many actors. Times like this, I'm glad for things like the Booker long list, for I don't think I would have picked up this book otherwise.

Rating: 4

Sarah Waters - Fingersmith

It's the 1860s, and Lant Street, a dodgy street near Southwark Bridge, is inhabited by petty thieves, small-time burglars, piddling swindlers and the like. Here lives Sue Trinder, a seventeen year old, with Mrs. Sucksby (her guardian), and Mr. Ibbs (a man who fences stolen items), along with a bunch of infants, unwanted in this world, who Mrs. Sucksby brings up and introduces to the world of small crime; and, some adolescent pickpockets (or, "fingersmiths", if you like).

We were all more or less thieves at Lant Street. But we were that kind of thief that rather eased the dodgy deed along, than did it . We could pass anything, anything at all, at speeds which would astonish you.

One day, Gentleman, a fraudster who was born into a rich cultured family, but went wayward with time, comes to visit (as he oft' does), with a proposal: He wants to take Sue to become a maid to a rich heiress (standing to get the money upon marriage) who lives at The Briar (a dark miserable place, where the sun never seems to shine), with an eccentric Uncle: Maud. Maud is unaware of how much she is worth, and she is supposed to be a lady in all rights. Sue's job is simple: make Maud her confidante, and convince her to marry Gentleman. After marriage, Gentleman will have Maud committed to a mad person's home (lunatic asylum), and, take her fortune as his own. Sue will get £3,000 for her role in the affair, and while she is slightly dubious about the plan, she agrees, to make Mrs. Sucksby and Mr. Ibbs proud.

And so, after being trained by Gentleman, Sue heads to The Briar, and seeks to get the wheels in motion. Everything is going exactly according to the plan: the Gentleman arrives, Maud is completely smitten, they plan the elopement, and Sue helps at every stage.

However, just as you, the reader, thinks everything is happening as planned, and the plot falls into place, Waters does an incredible job of delivering twist after twist - things that you'd never expect, but that doesn't come across as unbelievable. It's a book about love, jealousy, betrayal and a web of lies, that seems to spin deeper and deeper, denser and denser. It's dark, ruthless, and sinister. The characters almost float off the page and dance before you, just as if to prove how real they are. However, despite being descriptive, the book isn't dull at any stage. Instead, it grips you, and you just keep turning the page, desperate to know what happens next. And... with amazing skill, Waters ensures that you're always guessing... for nothing is as it seems.

Rating: 5

Audrey Niffenegger - The Time Traveler's Wife

Contrary to popular opinion, I thought this book just wasn't all that. I know many people who have this book on their "best of" lists, and it's supposed to be amazing. And there are parts of it which are... specially the premise: Henry suffers from a genetic disorder, which allows him to time-travel, albeit the time-traveling isn't done at his will, but can happen anytime, with no heads up whatsoever. So, at the age of thirty-six, he goes back in time to meet Clare. the love of his life, who is six, but, in real terms, she is only eight years younger than him!

So, as I was saying, the premise in itself is interesting, and gripping. However, this book has disregarded the concept of space-time continuum completely - almost as though such a thing didn't exist, and time-traveling decided the course of events, as opposed to nature, fate, or life itself.

For example, Henry tells little Clare that he is her future husband. So, all her life, Clare is only seeking one man, as she doesn't see any point in dating other guys, for she already knows who she's going to end up with. So, if Henry hadn't gone back in time to tell Clare about their love, would Clare have even given him a second look when she met him in the library?

And, why would someone tell his future wife that they'll be together when she's a small easily impressionable child? Shouldn't some things just be left to chance? Personally speaking, I would have hated it if someone would have told me that in my pre-adolescent and adolescent days, for, it probably would've ended up trivializing a lot.

Second, I really didn't understand what the whole deal with shedding clothes and arriving naked in the non-real time zone was about? Was Henry moving so fast that the clothes didn't have a chance to keep up with him? Was that really that necessary a part of the book? Because, at times, there were some semi-pedophiliac moments.

And, how could Henry have told the number of people he told his 'secret', and not have it turn into a gigantic deal with the media? How did he manage to escape becoming a part of a scientific experiment? Gomez hated him. Dr. Kendrick would have had his own interests at heart, and a case like Henry's would have ensured him some well-deserved limelight.

I know, it's supposed to be a romantic sci-fi book, but the sci-fi bit isn't really, as it's too romanticized, and the romance is just dull. I couldn't relate to either of the protagonists (Clare or Henry), and I just couldn't fathom what made them tick. I know I'm in the minority here, but, this book just wasn't for me. Add to it that there are two narrators, and the book is constantly going back and forth in time, with some repetitions, and that's enough to confuse the living daylights out of me. In fact, I thought that the editors should've stripped at least 200 pages from the book.

Maybe I just didn't get the book, or maybe, I was expecting too much, or, maybe I was reading the book in a pragmatic frame of mind. I don't know. I know some of you loved this book, so I'd be interested to hear what made the book tick for you? And what made it really phenomenal, because as things stand, I honestly think I missed out on something fundamental, which is what ruined the experience for me.

Rating: 1

Orson Scott Card - Ender's Game

I picked up this book as part of the Take A Chance Challenge, under Challenge#3: Birth Year Book: "Find a book that was published or copyrighted in the year of your birth. Read the book and write about it." For better or for worst, I was born in 1985, and as I haven't read much fantasy this year, I opted for this gem of a book, and I must say it was a great choice. I loved the book, and it makes me wonder why I don't read more fantasy.

Ender, the protagonist, is six years old when the book starts, and, deemed a genius. A 'third', i.e. the third offspring in a day and age where only two children are allowed, Ender is 'special' - the government requested his parents to have a third child, due to their exceptional genes. The first two children were both 'monitored', but due to minor inadequacies, they were deemed not good enough.

What does the government want little geniuses for? To train in battle, lest the "buggers" (an alien civilization that resembles insects) invade again, and this time, everyone's running scared despite humanity prevailing stronger in both the previous invasions. Humans need a strong leader, a capable one, and Ender is chosen, after being closely monitored by the government, by literally having a monitor "installed" on him.

The characters are extremely well-drawn, be it six year old Ender, his old brother Peter, and their sister, Val - or - Ender's friends from battle school. Dink and Petra remain two favorites, whereas Bean was almost a repeat of Ender's character.

While the book is far-fetched, there is a strong feeling of reality as Ender's character grows and matures, and swings between different emotional states, as people continuously toy with him. He's not perfect, but, he does what he's meant to better than anyone else.

And this is Ender's journey, training in battle, playing 'games' with fellow genius children, battling it out, and aiming for just one thing: winning. But as the government and the teachers keep changing the rules, to test Ender further and further, one wonders: is Ender going to make it, or will he succumb to his darkest nightmares?

Rating: 4

Antoine De Saint-Exupery - The Little Prince

Believe it or not, this is the first time I've read this book, and for the life of me, I don't know why! Personally, I think it should be mandatory for every child to read it, just because it is so wonderfully beautiful and innocent. However, reading it as an adult makes me realize how we focus on the unimportant things, that we neglect some of the simpler barer necessities.

Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: "What does his voice sound like?" "What games does he like best?" "Does he collect butterflies?". They ask: "How old is he?" "How many brothers does he have?" "How much does he weigh?" "How much money does his father make?" Only then do they think they know him.

The story is about a pilot, Exupery, who is stranded in the Sahara, where he meets The Little Prince - an 'alien', who has come to earth from a small planet, Asteroid B612. On his planet, he had three volcanoes (two active, one inactive) that reached his knees, a beautiful (albeit demanding) flower, and a baobab problem, i.e. if baobabs weren't weeded out at a very early age they wreaked havoc.

The Little Prince shares his experiences with the pilot, about the other planets he visited en route to earth: one where the sole inhabitant was a monarch who had no one to rule over, and another where a drunkard was drinking his life away, to forget. There was a planet where there was a businessman who counted stars, and another where there was a conceited man. Each character he met reflected some idiosyncrasy or the other of humans, and it's this thought that stuck with me: when did we renounce the simple pleasures (beautiful flowers - that come with their own baggage, spring rain, sparkling stars, the sunset)? When did we stop asking the thought-provoking innocent questions, that escaped our mouths without a second thought? When did we stop nagging 'adults' 'til we got an answer, even if the answer was just to shut us up?

This is a funny, well-written book, which just makes you reflect on life, and how it's passed you by. It's a book about friendship, about romance, and to top it off, it has wonderful illustrations. I challenge anyone to read this book, and not have the last illustration stick in their minds for a long long time.

Rating : 5