Packing Up

I know, I've neglected posting but well I've really been busy and any day where I refrain from spending even one second in front of a computer is an immense acheivement.

Started packing, which turns out to be really easy. I managed to tidy things up yesterday, sort out my clothes, even packed up my books. After much deliberation (well, not really) here are the 5 books I'm taking with me (+ 1 which will me there in Singapore since it's with a fellow scholar right now).

1). The Complete Adventure of Sherlock Holmes, Volume II by Sir ACD (Barnes and Noble):

How could I leave behind the world's greatest consulting detective? This will satisfy my inner detective, give me a sense of Victorian London (a period I just adore, by the way) and of course remind me that even the greatest people have their flaws.

2). The Book Thief by Markus Zusak:

An eloquent novel that demonstrates the power of words and how good and bad go hand in hand. Also useful when I want too read about a Death that's almost human.

3). The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern:

A book to pick up whenever I want to venture to the Cirque de Reves and experience the magical and impossible. Also to remind me that the difference between dreams and reality might not be that apparent.

4). Artemis Fowl and The Last Guardian by Eoin Colfer (Disney Hyperion):

The last book in the first fictional series I ever read on my own volition. So yeah, a bit sentimental this one. And this is the Hyperion version, where the covers are just amazing, and makes Artemis look like such a badass haha. Whenever I want a glimpse of the snarky and suave anti-hero, want an adventure filled with magic, faeries and plenty of witty banter.

5). Life of Pi by Yann Martel:

 A great read I'll pick up whenever I have any doubts or lose my faith.

6). Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain:

To remind me of my strengths and that I'm not the only one who sees nothing wrong with being quiet.

So that's it. The small myriad of novels that will decorate my shelves for the next 4 years. And honestly, Wednesday can not come fast enough.

I'll try to make up for the missing posts. Somehow.

Cheers!

--Karin Novelia

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Stories, They All Sound the Same (Off The Grid: Day 10)

My brain is seething. I'm bubbling with hundreds of new ideas. They just keep welling up.
 

Perhaps it's possible to control thoughts to a certain extent, but to stop thinking is asking too much. My head is teeming with beguiling notions, I'm not able to fix them before they're ousted by new thoughts. I can't keep them apart.
 

I'm rarely able to remember my thoughts. Before I manage to dwell on one of my inspirations, it generally melts into an even better idea, but this, too, is so fickle of character that I struggle to save it from the constant volcanic stream of new ideas...
 

I read the opening paragraphs of Jostein Gardner's The Ringmaster's Daughter and my mind instantly recalls the dozens of notebooks filled with half-baked ideas, the pages and pages of synopses, each unique and pertaining to a specific story, typed up on my laptop.

I throw a glance at my window, to make sure Jostein Gardner isn't somehow keeping an eye on me. I feel vulnerable, exposed. Like someone decided to write about me on paper.  I feel a strange relation to his character who as you can probably tell, is something of a writer.

Then I think of every other fictional aspiring writer I've seen/read and realize I'm probably just a mass of their quirks and idiosyncrasies. I'm a collection of writer stereotypes. Except maybe for that whole childhood trauma aspect...

This "writer" brought to life in The Ringmaster's Daughter is named Petter, and I do share his pain. Whenever I let my brain roam too far it just starts churning, spitting out ideas and stories. I can write out a synopsis fairly easy. My ideas usually start out being so abstract -- a random scene here, a piece of dialogue there. I can expand it, detail it, to as long as 4-5 pages, at best. When I try to expand it even further, that's when I fumble with the words.

I suppose I lack the focus to write a novel. Like Petter, I also lack patience and soundness of mind. Sitting still in front of a desk can be unnerving. More often then not it feels like a waste of time, it's frustrating and tedious. No sooner after I begin typing, my mind is racing farther ahead. My hands may be set on writing down one scene, yet my brain is already working on another.

There's one aspect where I Petter and I differ. I'm unshakeable on my becoming a writer, despite the difficulties. Petter however, doesn't see the point. He has no intention of becoming a writer. He finds it a shame though, when his ideas are left untouched. That's when he comes up with a strange business idea. He'll sell his ideas, make his living out of it. Sell ideas and stories to aspiring writers who find themselves with nothing to say.

Little Petter Spider becomes the cure for the dreaded writer's block, weaving his own web of manipulation.
 

At last I've decided what I want to be. I shall continue doing what I've always done, but from now on I'll make a living out of it. I don't feel the need to be famous, that's an important consideration, but I could still become extremely rich.
 

Petter starts out as a very precocious child. He learns to talk and read and write before the age of four. He's quiet and in his head. He's creative, definitely. But he is also pretty damaged.

When he starts to decide to sell his ideas, through this ominous platform he dubs "Writer's Aid", it's a dubious trade. Petter cherished anonimity above everything, and although what he's trying to sell is something that's in demand in the writing community, he knows there's a risk. A risk of getting caught, being mistrusted and hunted down.

He pays attention to make his clients feel exclusive to his services when they're not. He builds up their trust, makes them believe he'll never spill the beans. Little Petter Spider catches his victims within his web with promises not to eat them. All the while he thinks he's doing them -- and himself -- a great service.

And I strangely found myself agreeing with him. That what he's doing is almost justified.

It's interesting to see into Petter's psyche. Although he was quiet and unsociable as a child, he grew up to be quite the people person. He's amiable, able to carry a conversation. But at times he simply uses that to his advantage. Every writer, editor, friend is merely an expansion of his network. A business opportunity, or a casual relationship to make him feel less lonely when he wants company. Some might call him a sociopath.

The result of this casual approach to relationships leads him to trouble, as we find out in the final chapters of the book.

He has pretty eccentric views. Jostein Gardner is known for being philisophical in his writings, and seeing some views from Petter sets the mind going. The thing about Petter is that he's a story-teller. And so projects these view in short stories he tells throughout the course of the novel.

All in all, I loved The Ringmaster's Daughter. It's thought-provoking and insightful, with a touch of fantasy. Some might find the material a bit heavy, but it's worth the read. Petter is a complex character, the kind reader's would love to unravel as they read. The plot was original, cohesive. A must-read really, for writers.

(My name was eerily mentioned in the book, which was just unnerving and let's hope not foretelling)

There's one specific aspect of the story which I find interesting. While selling in Writer's Aid, Petter made sure he never sold the same idea twice, to prevent suspicion. But as the book came to the end, ironically, I realized there were parallels spreading throughout the entire thing. I began to see how a short story told when he was older happened to correspond to things that happened to him as kid, and vice versa, a story he told when he was younger strangely related to something that happened later in his life.

A coincidence? Maybe. But then again, maybe not.

There's a huge debate in the writing world on whether or not anything anyone comes up is really "original" at all. Like Sherlock Holmes once said, "There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before."

Somewhere out there, someone's falling for their best friend. Someone is cheating on someone they love. A little kid is chasing their dream. Someone's getting married, getting divorced. Someone's celebrating a birthday, going to a concert. Someone's fighting for what they believe in. Someone's moving to another country. Someone's taking a leap of faith.

It's a weird thing when you think about. But it's undeniable too. They may differ in the details, but when you strip down the stories, they all sound the same.

And that makes me wonder whether I have anything worth saying at all.

--Karin Novelia, Just Bursting With Ideas

Both Ends of the Same Spectrum

Recently, I read a really insightful book called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking written by Susan Cain.

(Coincidentally, the only reason I know about the book was because she was the first person I watched on TED, a conference where people discuss ideas. It's pretty cool, so if you feel like being inspired visit the TED website here).

The book is psychological non-fiction, based on Susan's intensive research about human temperament, mostly focusing on the terms introvert and extrovert. Susan has observed that there's a phenomenon she's called the Extrovert Ideal where the outgoing, loud, gregarious types are more favored over the cautious and contemplating.

In this modern age of media and competitiveness, there's sort of this need to 'self-promote'. You need to show off all your good qualities, so people can see them. People won't really take the time to find out what's lying underneathe, you know? And I get why that is. But the "Extrovert Ideal" as Susan explains can also be a double-edged sword.

Now, just to be clear, this book does not glorify introverts and belittle extroverts in anyway. In fact, Susan discusses the pros and cons of each side of the spectrum, and adresses the fact that there is a sense of favoritism leaning towards extrovertism, making the benefits of introvertism feel overlooked, challenging us to rethink our paradigms and shift them into a more open-minded direction.

This isn't really a book review. I'm not going into detail about what Susan Cain wrote, I just want to share my own thoughts on the subject, focusing on the introvert side. (I do think it's a really good book, so satisfy your curiosity and read it for yourself!)

Labels can be a bit of a scary thing, especially when there are negative connotations attached to them. So as I read Quiet I was excited and apprehensive at the same time. I felt like I could relate to the book. Susan shares so many experiences, stories she gathered from other people, some she experienced herself, about people just like me (quiet, reserved, the-always-stuck-in-their-heads type). And in each of those experiences there's this feeling that being that way (which for us is simply being ourselves naturally) is something that's discouraged, frowned upon.

There were times in the book when I smiled and thought Hey, I'm just like that! and times when I frowned and wondered Is that how people see me?

The problem is, that statistically one half to one third of the world's population are introverts. Like that quiet, smart kid that's sitting in you class ace-ing tests? They're probably an introvert. And you know what? They're probably getting bullied and made fun of too.

And that's really heartbreaking. Sure, they may be quiet, but being quiet doesn't mean someone isn't brilliant. They might have a hard time getting their ideas out there, or making sure their voice is heard, but that might be because there's never anyone around who's willing to listen.

People like that usually think before they speak. They have inhibitions which may seem like a disadvantage, but sometimes that cautiousness comes in handy in avoiding possible mishaps. But it is also does quiet thinkers who have a lot to contribute in the world. Think Vincent van Gogh and Albert Einstein. They didn't have their Eureka! moments at a pool party, hanging with the gang and socializing. They retreated into their minds and simply thought about things. You may not hear much during the process, but once introverts are sure with what they have, you can bet that the product of their thoughts is pretty damn amazing.

  

One aspect of the book that unnerved me was the fact that temperament is almost something genetic. The way you were born (like how sensitive you brain system is) can deeply influence how your basic instincts and personality is. I suppose some people can call that a relief. I am the way I am because of genetics. But it also seems to chuck our whole 'free will' philosophy out of the window. Like what if I don't want to be an introvert? Why can't I be peppy and loud and outgoing like others are? Because of genetics?

The book clearly underlined that though there is a acknowledgable scientific foundation to the formation of temperament, a lot of other variables such as the way you grew up, your environment, and yes, your choices will add up to who you are.

Lesson: No matter what anyone says, you can change yourself for the better.

Another heart-breaking point was seeing how people who were introverts at heart, had to become pseudo-extroverts, just to fall into the mold of the Extrovert Ideal. I do realize that being quiet all the time, doesn't do you any more good than talking too much does. There are times when you need to stand up and speak your mind, so others can hear what your thinking. There are also times when you need to step back and think, because charging ahead might cause you to crash.

But if you constantly have to go out and do something which doesn't come naturally to you, without letting anyone see your other side than isn't that the same as pretending? Lying to yourself, not being who you really are?

The problem is that introverts are being shamed into acting like extroverts. Some people feel like being quiet, means that there's something wrong with you, so does who naturally are, question themselves, try too hard to change. Some are even see as depressed or retarded, in need of therapy or medication.

Typical for human beings to see the different and outside-of-the-norm as mental illness, huh?

Some people think I'm quiet. Okay, I won't deny that because that's true. But when people use that against me and label me as 'anti-social' or 'arrogant' by jumping to conclusions it... It doesn't feel great. I feel like I'm being judged before I'm even presenting myself, and my instinct to that is to pull back, shy away...

And that's just really frustrating. Because I know that I'm not always what people make me out to be. I am so much more than they think or see. I can be loud, I can be weird, and I can be soooo lively around other people. But only if I feel comfortable with them, which might take a while.

It's sad to think that most people don't bother to look past those first impressions.

Which one was I then? Introvert or extrovert? Of course, noone can be a pure introvert or extrovert.

I can honestly admit I've been having a bit of an identity crisis lately for the past few years. It's like everytime I wake up I have an idea of who I want to be today. The cheery up-beat me that's gonna enjoy school and learning like she used to. Then there are the days I can't help but be the quiet, thoughtful me who over analyzes everything and can never seem to feel good about herself.

I think of myself as a walking mass of contradictions. There are a lot times when I confuse myself. I'm not really sure which of those sides are the real me. Sometimes I convince myself "All of those sides are you" and just confuse myself even more. But can a person really be so optimistic and brooding at the same time? Can a person really be so impulsive and cautious?

I've come to realize that I don't really feel the need to pick a side. I am sometimes one or the other and sometimes I can be both ends of the spectrum.

So here's what I think. Labels like introverts and extroverts, can be useful. They can help us understand who we are a little bit better so we can live our lives in way that's compliments that. But if you jump to conclusions and just tack them on so carelessly, then that my friends, is called prejudice.

So don't assume you know everything about someone. We are very, very complicated and cannot be summed up by a few trivial words. People are complex, so much bigger on the inside.

Even though you might be one over the other, just remember that basically we all exist on that same spectrum. Deep down, we are all the same.

Right now, I can't think of any other word that best describes collectively who I am other than this: me.

I. Am. Me.

One of a kind. And so are you.

So no matter how alienated you feel, no matter how different the world perceive you just remind yourself: I am me and noone else. Noone else can be me.

And believe me when I say, you can be so damn brilliant.

Thanks for reading!

-- Karin Novelia, Being the Best Me I Can Be

The Essence of Dreams (A Book Review of The Night Circus)

*May contain slight spoilers

What are dreams but mere ideas? Ideas that take up a life of their own, growing in proportions, intensity, detail. The are the fruit of imagination, the culmination of what our subconscious mind ponders on. But the experience of a dream -- in our heads, or even in our sleep -- can't stand true in reality. Like two sides of the same coin, they are distinctively different, yet sometimes impossible to discern.

The Night Circus, a novel written by Erin Morgernstern brilliantly blurs the line between dreams and reality. It is a story about magic, a game and the attraction between two magicians caught in the middle of it all: Celia Bowen and Marco Alisdair, two proteges of two very different magicians.

Celia is the daughter of Hector Bowen, who passes his powers off as simple illusions, perfoming magic tricks in stages across a number of countries as Prospero the Enchanter. Celia comes to him unexpectedly, dropped off to him after her mother had committed suicide. He sees potential in her abilities straight away. He believe magic is something you are born with, a natural talent for those who are lucky enough to possess it. His methods are unorthodox, sometimes cruel in training her. He comes across as a very uncompassionate father.

Marco is taken under the wing of a Mr. Alexander, the enigmatic type of character, whose past and last name remains quite undisclosed to the reader. He believes magic is something that can be taught, and pushes Marco to read and practice in solitude albeit in very luxurious conditions.

The two master magicians, being 'close friends', make a bet; a dangerous one they have made before and are willing to make again. They will pit their pupils against one another, in a clash of magic, to see who is better.

And so Le Cirque de Revěs is born. Being translated as The Circus of Dreams it "opens at nightfall" and "closes at dawn". Here, Celia and Marco use their magic to build the most impossible attractions. From a circus tent that holds a maze of clouds you can climb and jump on, a carousel of creatures that fly through the stars, what they create elicits awe and disbelieve from the circus-goers -- all of which are oblivious to the existence of magic.

What I love most about the book is Erin Morgenstern's very descriptive style of writing. All the magical details that come to make her creations of the impossible are fully conveyed to the reader. The book is beautifully written and jumps at the senses, from sights to smells, even tastes. It's the little things, the tiniest of details that really sticks into your mind, enhances the experience of immersing yourself in the prose that you feel like you're going through it all yourself.

Closing the book, feels like waking up from a dream. You know that it could never happen, but your heart aches and wishes that it could be somehow true.

Plot-wise, I think it was just perfect. I've heard some people complain about that the pacing is too slow, the story isn't that clever or well thought-out. But that's what makes The Night Circus so different from other books. People like a cinematic, action-packed, high-paced stories that tackles you. But The Night Circus creeps up on you, it's a story that is expansive and spans through many lives and many years that it cannot be told in a matter of days, and the sense of mystery and surprising revelations add to the tale's depth.

Some people have also been disappointed or felt misled at the term 'duel'. They thought of Harry-Potter-likes duels where spells fly and things erupt into chaos. What they got though, was more of an duel of the mind. They're creativity and innovation skills are being tested not their strength. The rules of the duel are arbitrary and has one twist -- it doesn't end until one of them dies.

Then here are sub-plots, which introduce characters as enchanting and wondrous as The Circus itself, gives them a decent story, a sense of involvement and influence in the main plot that no character Erin has created can really be called 'minor'. There's the creative director of the Circus' design, the fashionista that coordinates the acts costumes, a clockmaker who makes the centerpiece item and even a child that sneaks into the circus grounds. The magic of the Circus touches them, drives some insane. All these characters are affected by Celia's and Marco's actions and are simply a delight to read about.

I rate the book at 4.5/5 stars. There were some parts of the story that did seem tedious, but I was already caught in its spell to think much about it. In a nutshell, The Night Circus is a gem of a novel. It's style is descriptive and magical. It may be slow, but that doesn't mean its a bad book. If you have the patience to unravel the story and undergo the experience, reading The Night Circus will possibly be the best thing you've ever done.

Magic is something we can all relate to. It's something that we want to see in our lives, some even crave a semblance of its power. We may not have magic wands or spellbooks filled with curses to cast, but we each have a little bit of magic in us. We have the power to magically imagine, to create things with our minds.

So don't ever stop dreaming. As harsh as reality might seem, there are some dreams that really do come true.

And if reality does get a bit too hard to handle, know that the gates of Le Cirque de Revěs are always open for you to explore.

'Till the next post!

-- Karin Novelia, Restless Rěveur

The Beauty and Brutality of the World

As I've been alluding to, my one saving grace is distraction. It keeps me sane.



As the words float off the page and resonate deep within my heart, I can't help but feel a certain connection with the writer.

Then I satirically realize that I share a similar mind-frame with Death.

Still with me? Then in the same being's words, I write to you, dear reader: Come with me and I'll tell you a story.

A story of opposites, put simply. Life and Death. Losing and finding. Giving, and most paramount of all, thieving.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is a well-written masterpiece with such poetic prose that toys with the emotions and etches itself into memory. It tells of the dark inkling of time that imbues human history -- Nazi Germany and World War II, the years that fell under Adolf Hitler's tyrannical rule.

I must admit that I'm not an expert in the historical aspect of the subject. All I've ever heard about of Hitler, in passing, is that he is a horrible, horrible man, and a mass murderer with a strong sense of discrimination.

The characters are unique and individual, described by Zusak in a way that shows off their trademark. We are given a look into their lives and see just how steadfast they all are in a time that calls for strength, amidst war and depression.

The centerpiece of the tale is a girl named Liesel Meminger who, for a girl still young, draws in Death and tragedy in her wake. She's not to blame, of course, concerning her circumstances. Who would ever ask for their brother to suddenly drop dead on a train ride to their new foster home? She experiences such terrible loss, is separated from her family and becomes a first-hand witness to the destructive force of World War II.

After burying her brother and pilfering her first book from a mound of snow (fittingly entitled, The Grave Digger's Handbook), she arrives at Himmel Street in a town called Molching. Ironically, especially in the heart-breaking final scenes of the book, the meaning of Himmel to be translated to Heaven could not be farther from reality. She meets her new foster parents: Rosa Hubermann who, underneath the constant string of profanities, houses a heart of gold; and Hans Hubermann, an accordion-playing painter who soon teaches Liesel how to read.

Liesel's first encounter with the written words may seem like a solemn one, but The Grave Digger's Handbook was the first book she ever held in her hands and only a prelude to the more enticing ones that color her new life. She finds a new joy in reading them, even resorts to stealing them when she can, because then money for her family was scarce and they were even a luxury she could not continuously indulge herself in.

Her fixation with books and reading reminds us how words can transport us. We can get lost in the pages and get swept up in the stories they tell, leaving behind our reality to enter the fictitious ones between the lines.

I've always been a believer in the power of words. But this book also shows me that they are a double-edged sword. Words can have the power to change things. Dramatic as it sounds, they are even capable of changing the world. It can save lives. Move nations.

They can be twisted and edited, used to lie and manipulate. As was the custom then during Nazi Germany, the Fuhrer's words became gospel. He brain-washed the people under his rule with propaganda, and as the story unfolds we see the harsh consequences of such abuse. They follow his every word like robots, like zombies. He has the Germans thinking that they are a superior race, superior enough to risk their lives in a bid of war. A war that led to so many deaths.

So many people had placed their faith blindly upon him, to the point that if you weren't a Hitler supporter, the repercussions would be dire. Liesel's new Papa was among that small percentage that weren't Nazi believers and that paradigm hinged on the fact that he owed his life to a Jew. The very people Adolf Hitler discriminatingly despised.

Hans Hubermann was one of the few people who didn't believe that Jews had to be exterminated. But he never could act upon those beliefs, even speak them, all because he was afraid that once those words leaked from his lips, he could not take them back and anyone who heard them would punish him for standing up against what is obviously immoral. Maybe most of the Nazis who claimed their support were the ones who were most against it.

We're given a look at what it is like to be a Jew during that time, looking through the eyes of Max Vandenburg. He's on the run, to the point of dehydration and starvation and for what reason? Because he was born a Jew. Because a man in a fuzzy mustache says that every fiber of his being is wrong, simply because. What in the world could justify such thoughts? How deep could a racial hatred grow to make someone go through such suffering? He is coincidentally the son of the man who saved Hans Hubermann's life, and now without a home or a family, he turn to him and asks him to do something that could risk his life more than anything: to hide a Jew in his home. Implicitly, he is also asking: How far will you go to uphold your beliefs? How much of a human being are you truly are?

I momentarily tend to forget the story is fictitious and my heart aches for the poor souls, in another place, another time. Out of my reach. The realistic scenarios aptly depict the harsh times and I can't help but wonder what kind of suffering people in the real world had to face. Perhaps there were Liesels and Hubermanns and Maxes facing all sorts of dilemmas. Or perhaps it was far worse that Markus Zusak could ever try to depict.

What binds all these characters, places, and stories within stories is the omniscient narrator who comes off a bit too... human for my liking. The most uplifting story-telling of The Book Thief is the use of Death as its voice. As the war rages on, he becomes quite busy, as you can imagine, reaping souls and dropping them off to only he knows where. Zusak defies common perception that Death is a cold-blooded, empty soul in a black cloak who wields a scythe, and instead gives him a heart. We read that he is burdened with his task, he finds no joy in it, no satisfaction. He distracts himself with all the deceased souls he sees everyday by vacationing in increments. In colors.

It's not that he needs to distract himself from the souls he need to collect -- it is after all his job, and no matter how much he chooses not to, he will not stop seeing them. He needs a distraction from us. From humans. From the survivors that stand in the wake of Death, humans who can kill and save lives, who are capable of nearly anything good, even bad. He is obsessed with them, with their stories, even though he knows he should not.

This novel tackles quite a few issues and themes, like discrimination and duality, but the one that sums everything pretty well is this: human nature. It puzzles Death to no end. The way humans can be so complicated. How they can bring upon their lives such beauty and brutality, such order and chaos, as if one could not exist without the other.

We wish for peace yet continue to war with one another. We fight for life but then kill. Through the darkest days we still manage to see the silver lining. We are afraid of Death yet... we continue running towards him.

A small excerpt from his "Diary" might help to clarify:

It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to name just a few. Forget the scythe, Goddamn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a vacation.

* * * A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH * * *

I do not carry a sickle or a scythe.

I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.

And I don't have those skull-like

facial features you seem to enjoy

pinning on me from a distance. You

want to know what I truly look like?

I'll help you out. Find yourself

a mirror while I continue. 

I also find it incredibly fitting that in the end, Liesel uses the words to tell her story by writing it down. No one could ever had guessed that the story, written in a small bounded notebook, would fall into the hands of Death. In his introduction he tells us his reasons for keeping stories of survivors: It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt -- an immense leap of an attempt -- to prove to me that you, and your human existence are worth it.

In the end he's even at a loss for words to describe what he has seen.

All I was able to do was turn to Liesel Meminger and tell her the only truth I know. I said it to the book thief and I say it to you now.

* * * A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR * * *

I am haunted by humans.

So ask yourselves this reader: Is our existence truly worth it? Can we even call ourselves 'human' beings?

It has been a long while since I wrote a book review (again, my use of the word 'review' is a loose one), but I do enjoy writing them, analyzing what they have to offer, entertainment or education-wise. I know it is long, but if you've taken the time to read this, then thank you. I hope that you can take what I've written as some food for thought, and might even decide to pick up this book for yourselves and fall in love with it like I did, from the very first page. As I writer, I recently realized that I suck at words. I could associate my lack of inspiration to a thing called writer's block, but it is nothing but a blatant excuse. So, like Liesel Meminger said at the end of her book, The Book Thief:

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.

-- Haunted by the Words, Karin Novelia