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 -

The Tragedy, The Metaphysical, The Nutcases in Gowns.

Don't let my literature teacher hear about this-- I mean, that iReally do love the books we've been discussing in her class. Many of them are texts iWould not have picked up on my own initiative and iSuppose that's why I think exposing students to literature on some level of education is important. It opens doors, helps us to empathize and (most importantly) it can be an enjoyable experience.

However, the novel iWant to write about right now isn't something one would enjoy in the conventional sense of enjoyment. "Beloved" by Toni Morrison is set in Kentucky, 1800s... sometime towards the close of Slavery in the States. Our main characters are former slaves; the chronology of this story darts madly between the past and the present, sometimes forcing flashes of a reluctant history into our minds and sometimes painfully clawing its way into our tear ducts. It is not an easy story but it is one that everyone should read, iThink.

On that note-- although iHighly recommend this to y'all, it would be best if you knew a little about Slavery in the 1800s. A spot of knowledge may be all you need to deepen the meaning of a book. Ladies. You will cry. iCried. Morrison dedicates her work to "Sixty Million and more" and if you don't catch the meaning of that, I'll tell you: she wrote her novel for the sixty million people who died in the name of Slavery. Sixty million very real people. Keep that stored somewhere in the back of your head if you ever decide to dive into Beloved.


iAm sorry if you did not like my assaulting you with details of the Tragedy... may iSuppose that details of the Metaphysical will make up for so depressing a sin? "A Passage to India" by E.M. Forster focuses on a group of Indians and Englishmen living in Colonial India. But the novel is about so much more than that-- and while I am bursting to tell you what these things are, I'm afraid that the only person who could do such themes justice is the author himself. All I can really say with a clean conscience is that you ought to screw your head on before reading it but don't go over each page with a critical eye. Try to enjoy the book as you would enjoy a hot, stagnant afternoon. At leisure and with a mind willing to appreciate anything that breaks monotony. Oh. And please don't murder me if you don't like it. iGather that my classmates did not quite enjoy Forster's approach to the abstract; and what can I say? Some things cannot be grasped by the human mind, much less the written word.


As for the Nutcases in Gowns. All I can say is that iWill never, ever again switch to the MTV channel to cure my late night boredom. Watching Super Sweet Sixteen is like watching the world consume itself. I'm disappointed in the lack of class young women handle themselves with nowadays and disgusted by the media's exploitation of their inelegant personalities. I know that television doesn't neccesarily represent the general society (there's a horrifying thought) but it forces our eyes to stare into a very bleak future. I'm afraid that we've sold out, my friends. To whom I do not know-- the very moguls we claim to hate? iProbably sound kinda condascending as I reproach people from the little throne I've set up here in my blog. That doesn't make what I'm saying any less true, though. Obnoxious maybe. But these are, as a poet once said, "truths that lie too deep for taint."


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-

iWrite. Do you...?

iWrite. Do you...?

I recently scanned through an interesting article by blogger Bibliobibuli, about how she started writing. It got me thinking about writing in general.

How much do you enjoy writing? I've met many people who tell me that writing is torture, and yet they continue to put pen onto paper because they have a story to tell . Lots of writers have also told me that they write because it's enjoyable, a release of emotions. I think that they're both correct and that it just feels different at different points of your life. Personally, I'm not sure why iWrite. I think it's because iLove words.


But then again-- me and my keyboard? We have a love-hate relationship. Pens are out of the question... left-handers with the hook syndrome will know what I'm talking about.

I'll leave you here for now. It's a short entry today, because Bibliobibuli's article is quite long and I don't want what few readers I have to strain their eyes.

Write you later. Go read something.

-The illiterate Blogger-