iWas once a Child

"You enter. The smell of books invites you in, both musty and new. Newspaper and magazines rustle softly in one direction-- a dull little place that your father makes a beeline for. You inform him that you're going to look at the children books or the comics, unconscious of the lie you tell. Because now you're in a bookstore and all you see is row after row of stories; of possibilities and impossibilities and friends and ideas and places and dreams and adventures, and you don't know if you'll be able to stay in the same section for longer than a minute."

- Nuri Talib -

iThink that Courage is a child because it is only as children that we understand the sheer terror of knowing how much we do not know. How did we do it? How did we dare to dive into the pages of a tale that had as much a chance of disturbing the mind as it did of charming it?

We can't flatter ourselves as such in adulthood. We read reviews and 'test' the first few pages of an alluring little novel. Or we ask for a recommendation and wait for the shortlist of someoranother prize to be released. We avoid the genres that unnerve us and the ones we suspect may bore us. We dip our toes into the pool, afraid to make that frantic dash-- that heart pounding leap, that glorious splash. Jane Eyre is boring before we have met her, The Shining is scary before we have felt it.

There is nothing quite like reading a book as a child. iCan tell because The Famous Five are our friends but Othello, Hamlet, Ian Malcolm, Sethe-- they are protagonists. So in honour of the best friends we've ever had (on paper), iThought it would be nice to appreciate the spirit with which we befriended them. I'll raise a glass of orange juice to our former selves!

Speaking of old friends-- Asterix & Obelix, how you crack me up! It's interesting how many comics I read as a child and how parents nowadays don't think it's good for their little ones to pick up the habit. That's like denying us our Sunday funnies. What's a kid without some Charlie Brown or Calvin'n'Hobbes?

Imaginary tigers are surprisingly wise.



Write you later. Go read something.


- the illiterate Blogger -

iHate and iLove London.

It's half-term break for us poor saps studying the IBDP in Oxford. Ten whole days of nothing to do-- the lucky ones go home to their relatively nearby countries and the unlucky ones (iMean me) do what I did. Go to London.

London is possibly one of the most annoying places to go once you've gotten used to student life in Oxford. It's loud, crowded and depressing. iAin't putting down the world's city-- it's a great place for shopping and the food is a hell lot better (pardon my french) than Brown-Sauced-British-Stuff Oxford. It's just not the city iWould want to live in. Give me warm and friendly KL anyday.



Okay, enough about my adjustment issues. We all know how boring those can be. iThink that I'll fill you in on something more interesting today. Tintin. You heard me right. Let's hear you say it: A THOUSAND BLISTERING BARNACLES! If iEver grow to love London, blame the Tintin store in Covent Garden. The Adventures of Tintin have been with me since I could put words together so if you haven't guessed it already, this is supposed to be an iLove entry.

As per usual, iAm going to tell you to get up, get out and buy a copy of any Tintin adventure out there. Because iTend to tell you to read kickass books (or in this case, graphic novels) you've never read before. Odds are however, that you do know Tintin through his comics and cartoons. If so, well done! iHope that you will continue to spread the awesomeness of Tintin, Captain Haddock and Professor Calculus. Oh. On that note, if you know where I can get a copy of the first 3-in-1 volume of Tintin's Adventures, leave me a message please.

On to the more serious side of our favourite reporter and snow-white dog. Racism. It was brought up earlier this year that Tintin's adventures -- those in the Congo, specifically -- have shown signs of racism. I'm no expert but iBelieve that this was a legitimate claim and I'm not going to play the part of the diehard fangirl, trying to defend Herge's work. iWould like to state for the record however, that I have been reading Tintin since the tender age of seven or eight (or nine? Mum should know) and have not in anyway been influenced by these racist sentiments.

It's daft that parents don't want their kids reading Tintin anymore because they think it has racist values. If they raised their kids properly instead of plopping them infront of the idiot box or playstation 24/7, then maybe the children would have some chance at independent thought. So here's my message to parents of today and soon-to-be parents. Get off your lazy asses and do some parenting. School teachers aren't going to do it for you, the television isn't going to do it for you and neither is the internet. Don't go around protesting about how violent or racist comics/games/tv shows are making your kids horrible brats when you're the one buying them all that stuff instead of teaching them the basic human values that are supposed to help them withstand negative influences. You can't make 'em better people by taking all the bad out of the world. The world will always have bad stuff in it.


Alright then, iThink that's about it for today. Have a nice day people. Hope I didn't offend or depress you.


Write you later. Go read something.



-The illiterate Blogger-

of Children's books and Reviewing books.

The Mysterious Benedict Society.

The cover of this novel has haunted me from its place on Kino's shelves for ages until I finally gave in a few days ago, bought the bloody thing and read it. Incidentally, it was exactly what iNeeded to read to get out of my Reader's Block. And yes, I'm sure you can make the connection between that and the more lethal Writer's Block.

Trenton Lee Stewart has never written a children's book before-- this is his first, apparently. You wouldn't know it. Its beginning is simplicity itself and easy to slip into, while the world around you slips out. But adult readers will notice some very non-childish concepts in this book: there is, for instance, a sort of familiarity to Orwell's Big Brother theme. The feeling of something hidden and sickeningly dangerous.

In fact, one of the characters even speaks of how total control is impossible but the illusion of total control equals to the same results. Doesn't that ring a bell? Mention of torture and an ominous place called the Waiting Room adds to the impression. In spite of this, The Mysterious Benedict Society is still very much a children's book. You can tell from the dialog, the caring characters, the slightly cheesy villains and beautiful coincidences that were orchestrated to an unlikely extent. It was as if the author Mister Stewart had taken a menacing bowl of batter and added in sweet things so that the young'uns wouldn't be scared by the spice. To top it off, iAm quite sure he smothered it with extremely sweet vanilla icing.

Hooray for yummy analogies.

This is the sort of book tweens (10-12/13 years old) should be reading. Never mind those 'Gossip Girls' or 'Sweet Valley High's. This has an interesting balance of realism, imagination and sweetness that would be much healthier for the mentality of growing children. Especially the ones who leave that idiot box.

Now on another note...

iSuddenly realized a few days ago that I am not in the habit of reviewing books. I don't enjoy reviewing books, unlike most literary bloggers, if you can call me one. My reviews always end up conveying mixed feelings that make some readers a little tentative about reading the book(s) in question. So I'm going to say this now, before someone comes along and tells me iShouldn't review books. This isn't a blog that reviews books. It is merely about the books I read. There.

Write you later. Go read something.


-The illiterate Blogger- (who can't underline this for some reason)