So yeah I’ve been loving the city (and state) library since I got here. Admittedly, I haven’t made full use of its potential but I had just moved to a new country and I was a bit busy with other things. Pretty basic and administrative tasks, like getting my shiny new Boost Juice card. Mhmm perfect for the hot sunny days. I like to plan ahead. Oh and I got some tax-related stuff. Boring but very useful for contract jobs, which I’ve been getting a lot of (ok just a couple) from Facebook, no joke. Whoever says that it is a waste of time has clearly been playing a too much Farmville.

So I’ve been on and off a graphic novel binge the past several months. I saw Persepolis on DVD earlier this year and I had the bright idea of borrowing the book from the library. Looking back now, I kinda wish I had gone and seen more animated films during the film festival. But that was during a crazy time of working and studying and working and volunteering. I barely even had time to breathe then. I have way too much free time now. Hmm. Well not necessarily free time, I’ll call it fun time. Books, museums, light installation shows, special exhibitions (saw one about Pompeii and I LOVED it!). Oh yeah I’m loving it.

And so I went to the library and while there, I had another bright idea of borrowing more. Then I discovered the online reservation system. And the self-checkout machine at the library. Currently, I have 8 books on loan and 20 on reserve. I would have kept going but it seems that I’ve maxed it out. Most of the books are of the visual variety: graphic novels (they’re more than just comics, mind you) and design books and then throw in a D.H. Lawrence here and a William Faulkner there. The only book I’ll be buying this year is the recent one from Lars Brownworth, my idol Byzantine lecturer. I’m already feeling depressed in anticipation of having finished reading it. But let’s not dwell on that.

Here are some good recommended reads, if you’re into a lot of human interest stuff and reading about history’s “losers” and survivors. It’s very good stuff, I tell you.

Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood and Persepolis: The Story of a Return are both by Marjane Satrapi. She grew up in Tehran and saw and lived through part of the revolution. Her parents sent her to Vienna when she was 13 or something then she returned to Iran in her 20s, forever changed. She moved back to Europe and I think she’s based in France now. I heard about her because I was reading up on French illustrators. She’s pretty awesome. I think I instantly like people who speak languages well. They’re better at deciphering human nature.

Next up, I discovered Maus II by Art Spiegelman by accident when I was on my way out of the library and the swastika image on the front cover caught my eye. I’ve been morbidly interested in the Holocaust ever since I can remember. I once sat through Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah, glued to the screen for 9 hours. I think watching that once was enough, really. I’m in the queue for Maus I. The second one was pretty good, I wasn’t as drawn into it as I was into Marjane’s world (yes I feel very close to her) but I’m hoping the first one is better. I’m guessing my brain’s just completely saturated with years of reading up on this topic.

The Alcoholic by Jonathan Ames and Dean Haspiel is something I came across while searching for graphic novels on the library website. Everything I felt I wanted enough to go the distance of a few more double clicks was checked out and I didn’t feel like queueing for any of them. Besides the title got me all curious. While I don’t think I’m an alcoholic, I may have had a problem of excess at some point in my past. I certainly still enjoy indulging in a drink or two or three a few times a month, maybe even sometimes a whole bottle of a really good pinot noir. Living in Australia encourages drinking. I just try to fit in.

Jonathan Ames’ story confirmed a lot of my thoughts on alcoholism and the people afflicted by it and provided some really good and new insight. The romantic in me wanted a more upbeat ending, but what he had put there was probably more apt. Haspiel’s illustrations are awesome.

Joe Sacco’s Palestine is what I’m reading at the moment. Very heavy stuff to go through. I’ve had to take breaks from reading it. It’s originally a nine-part comic series but I borrowed the single volume edition. Another chance discovery from browsing the returns cart, hehe. Edward Said’s introduction is superbly written.

That’s what I’m partly busy with these days. That and concluding contract work I’ve done in the past 5 weeks. And looking after the baby sometimes. LOVE.

Not a bad show at all. But now that I’m on holiday, I’ve got heaps of free time and am allowed more hours to work. I’ve got to find steady work again though. I want to go to a beach outside Victoria this summer.

I was looking for something to do a few weeks ago, before my wonderful parents left me with heaps of responsibilities. I had a harrowing 6 months running my stupid errands and I’ve yet to enjoy my recent freedom (okay maybe that’s stretching it a little bit). Nowadays, if I want to relax, I go to work. But even that’s begun to pick up, I have no escape now. My parents have been gone a week and everyday there’s a new issue to deal with. This morning, the scanner decided it didn’t want to be detected, at first I thought it was only through the wireless network, but the device wouldn’t function at all. So I sorted it out, promptly missing part of the match I was watching (Guccione-Simon. Simon won in 4, by the way) and was late in setting off for work. The only time I can watch tennis undisturbed, or do anything else without being interrupted for that matter, is at 1AM, after I’ve counted the moneys and tallied up the sales (which I’ve apparently been doing incorrectly). And even then I pass out after 20 minutes because I’ll be so tired. I don’t think I’m allowed rest and relaxation for another month or so. 2008’s badness is spilling over onto this year. How tragic.

Yes I am complaining. They are the sort of errands that one grumbles about but does lovingly anyway.

So yes ANYWAY, I was looking for something to do a few weeks ago. I found this lying around, cover looked a bit creepy and the blurb on the back was interesting enough. So I started the book and finished it in about a week. I wasn’t expecting anything amazing, I mean granted Stephen King had some kind words to say about it, so I had wanted it to be a good read at least.

Sometimes it felt a bit like an airport novel, which  isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The book talks about 3 (or 4? How quickly we forget.) seemingly unrelated events and I was surprised at how nicely they all flowed together. I chuckled a couple of times which I very rarely do, I’m usually good at keeping still and being quiet while I read. The author is funny a few times, not that much but it’s not meant to be a funny book, and I liked that. I was entertained and there were some gripping suspenseful moments. Not bad at all. I wouldn’t mind reading another one of Mr Marshall’s works.

By Michael Marshall (400 pages. Sometimes called ‘The Upright Man’).

Finished reading this about 3 weeks ago. It’s Murakami alright but I wasn’t drawn into the story as much as I usually am. I was a little disappointed.

So I started read the book earlier this week and I saw the film on dvd last night.

I liked the book a lot more. Reading it made me feel more emotionally involved in the story. I didn’t like the main guy, Amir, even though he tries to make it right and finds a way to “be good again” in the end. He was never a good person to begin with. He was petty, vindictive, spoiled and cowardly as a child and although he mellows down over the years, he maintains his weak character throughout much of his adult life. A great man, he is not. But I suppose not-so-great men need to have films about them made too.

Anyway before I launch into a self-righteous sermon, I’ll move on. So yeah, even though the film treats the narrative a bit differently, it does remain faithful to the story and is pretty coherent. What I wanted to see more of in the film though is a stronger focus on character development. It’s a story of relationships, see. A boy and his father, two friends, family and community dynamics. All of that is muted throughout the film. You don’t feel Amir’s desperate need to be accepted by his father and his envy when Hassan is given attention or praised. Also, Amir’s inability to stand up for himself isn’t given more stress. In the beginning, when the dad complains to a friend about his weakling of a son and says “A boy who can’t stand up for himself grows up to be man who can’t stand up for anything” (might be paraphrasing a bit here), we should have seen more of this progression in Amir’s life, up to the point where he finds himself in a situation and he behaves courageously, contrary to a lifetime of non-confrontational passiveness. He finally atones for betraying Hassan and actively seeks forgiveness by trying to do right by Hassan’s son. There is also less emphasis on the guilt Amir feels upon having abandoned a devoted friend in his time of need, and this follows and haunts him all the way to his new life in the US. In the film, he just looks like an awkward man.

His relationship with his father also takes a backseat, I would have liked to have seen how it evolves over the years, as explored in the book.

Conclusion, the film isn’t that bad but it isn’t very good either, especially when it has enough written material to make it a great one. The cinematography is okay (kites in flight — pretty cool) and technically it is cleanly made. However, much of the acting feels wooden and unconvincing and I felt the story relied too heavily on the fact that it’s set in Afghanistan. I suppose that alone should be enough to pull at some heartstrings given its timely release. But to me, it just felt contrived. You’re better off reading the book and skipping the film.

I did cry though, when the adult Amir was reading Hassan’s letter. But then again, I’m just about to get my period.

This is super long overdue.

Civilisation by Kenneth Clark. This is too good. Read it. I felt like I was sipping cappucino on a cool autumn day throughout the entire book. It’s looking at history through art over the years and its zeitgeist. I wish I’d read this before I went round to the museums mentioned. I would certainly have appreciated it all more. I really want a copy for my little library.
 

Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison by Michel Foucault. This examines how prisons have undergone many changes over the years. It talks quite a bit about public torture and punishment. His writing is VERY graphic.

Thegan and I saw this when it first came out, sometime last week. I didn’t even know there was a new movie about the Ninja Turtles. And to call it TMNT! I thought it was dreadful. I still do.

I doubt I would have seen it on my own because I’m not a very sentimental person. I am not exactly a heartless person but the reason I fail to attach sentimentality to objects and places is rather more on account of my poor memory. I just don’t recognise things that have been important to me in the past. I might feel a twinge of emotion but usually I pass it off as heartburn. I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. In any case, my sister must have known this and firmly set a date to see the movie with me. I told her I might be busy so she should just go ahead and watch it without me but she wouldn’t hear of it. She actually pouted at me.

So off we went to watch it. It was fun. Nothing stupefying or anything like that, but if you’re like me and my sister, and grew up loving these turtles and bought all the related merchandise ever manufactured, you’d have a great time watching this film.

It was awesome. I recognised the heroes in a half shell. Raphael still had a chip on his shoulder, Leonardo was still annoying, Donatello was still nerdy and Michelangelo was still cowabunga-ing. Even Splinter was still gross as ever. Happy happy reunion.

By Zack Snyder. He did a bunch of commercials and some fims, but it was his Dawn of the Dead remake that I really liked. I don’t really have a lot of time to go to the cinema these days, especially since it’s mostly crap they screen anyway but because of the director having done DOTD and knowing that it’s  adapted from Frank Miller’s work made me really really really want to see it. I love Sin City. But a Roberto Rodriguez film it was not. Hmph. I thought that maybe if the film didn’t live up to the hype then maybe the sight of lovely half naked muscly men would convince me. But, alas only ever so slightly. Although the flying rippling thigh-revealing thrusts were quite exciting, if I do say so myself. Yet I found myself wondering, when does the good stuff start happening? Cinematography is really pretty though, but two hours of decapitation after decapitation and zero character involvement made it drag on and on. And I’m already a big fan of exciting swashbuckling movies and slashing and dashing heroes and innumerable henchmen who die in particularly creative ways. How sad that this movie did not make me clap in delight.

It’s a better movie trailer than anything else, in my opinion. And I can’t believe some people have actually turned it into a political Bush vs. Ahmadinejad thing. It’s mindless entertainment at best, for crying out loud.

This is the book that I bought when Sister and I went to the mall for lunch while taking a break from LTO duty. Well she had lunch and I had a coke. I can’t stand fast food burgers, blech.

Anway I’ve always wanted to do my part and help where I can in our neglected pretty little country and I intend to pay particular attention to non English speaking, poor but brilliant students in the future when I have the means. I doubt I’ll accomplish much if my Tagalog’s less than stellar so I better get started. I chose this book because the cover looked friendly enough for me to read without the aid of a dictionary. A bit of a blow on the ego but the other books on display seemed to be serious literary works, too serious for me, and upon leafing through them, they contained too many words that aren’t familiar enough to me. Boohoo. I like to think that I am conversationally fluent and I can hold my own when engaged in an argument or playful banter with better Tagalog speakers. It’s a shame that my reading comprehension is piss-poor and that I can’t express myself formally and with precision, without shifting to English. But that will change and I’m setting a 12-month goal for it. Basically I want to sound clever and educated and not so much like a clever and educated fag hag. Well, not just.

It is a lovely little tale by Bob Ong, author of ABNKKBSNPLK. I’ve been reading it aloud to myself for practice and to my mom for word emphasis correction and so far we both think it’s rather funny. The story, not my reading, you asses. Our protagonist is a crab named Tong (…tong tong tong pakitong-kitong) and his dad the King Crab is ill and the Queen says that Tong needs to go to the forest and find a banana heart so his dad can get well. Nothing too original there but it’s clever the way the author addresses that thought. Tong encounters several animals along the way and they help and distract him in turns. You can’t miss the analogy between the story’s forest life and Philippine life, it’s so good. The crocodile Buwaya is too much like a traffic cop asking for a bribe, and it’s hilarious how he does it blatantly.

It’s not a very long story and I don’t want it to end so I’ve been forcing myself to read it in installments. Anyway it’s alright as I get tired of talking aloud after a while. It costs only 100 pesos and the paper it’s printed on is quite nice, none of that newsprint crap. And there are lovely illustrations every other page or so. Oh and it says on the back cover that royalty of the sales (I assume a fixed percentage of sales profits?) will go to the National Center for Mental Health. Nice touch.

By Bernardo Bertolucci. Didn’t he do Stealing Beauty some years back? That film was terrible. Come to think of it, he did Little Buddha too. That man needs to be contained. Hehe.

The Dreamers wasn’t as horrible, I mean it wasn’t bad bad. It didn’t put me to sleep because it got more interesting as the story unfolded. One thing though, I couldn’t get my head around the main guy being Henry in Dawson’s Creek for a while. Don’t ask me why I remember that or why I even know. Hihi. Jen and Dawson forevah! Hehe. I am joking. His acting was fine and believable but I just couldn’t take him seriously.

Anyway, so “Henry” (I’ve forgotten what his name in the movie is) is American and is in Paris to learn french. He is there in the year of 1968. Famous date in French history involving massive student unrest, rioting and all sorts of anarchistic activities pushing the government to the brink of collapse. Hehe cheeky little fuckers. Yes well, anyway this is the cool background of the story. ”Henry” is a big film fanatic and makes the acquaintance of French siblings Theo and Isabelle.

Unfortunately, the story isn’t quite as cool as the time it is set in. Several times it felt like a V.C. Andrews novel because of the awkward incestuous nuances. I don’t know, it’s an interesting storyline but it just didn’t work. I guess that’s why I forced myself to stay awake, I was hoping it would pick up and get more cohesive. It didn’t. The three characters weren’t very convincing in whatever they were trying to portray, in fact, they annoyed me most of the time (but I suspect it may have more to do with the fact that most teenagers annoy me). “Henry” (I’ve just remembered that it’s Matthew) is probably the best of the three, he wasn’t bad at all actually. The Isabelle girl was just naked as many scenes would allow, the brother Theo’s acting seemed a bit wooden. But he was quite hot, though.

So the story revolves around the three of them and the conflict arises when Henry aka Matthew and Isabelle hook up, shaking their cozy little trio and more importantly, disturbing the sibling bond. Given the heavy psychological and emotional goings-on, the dramatic ending should have had more impact. Instead, the background bit progressively looms over the main story and completely overshadows the moment each of the characters make an important individual decision. Decisions that led to the trio’s breakup. I’m very big on story endings and the film didn’t work for me because I was thoroughly dissatisfied with its ending.

So I read the book during the Malaysian trip and I have to say I was incredibly disappointed. The film is one of my favorite adventure movies ever (shut up), so much that people find watching it with me around annoying and pretty much impossible because I recite the lines aloud. I know it’s annoying but I can’t help it. Reading the book gave me little or no pleasure but I stuck with it because I felt compelled to finish it, and I was hoping it would pick up at some point. It didn’t really, at least not for me. I was very irritated to discover that the Pit of Despair doesn’t exist in the book; instead there is something called the Zoo of Death, completely different from the story I had grown up with. I realize that film production would have been a logistical nightmare and the budget would have been insane but still. I fell into my own pit of despair even when exciting new things were happening all around me.

Everyone was too chatty for my taste as well. Westley wasn’t clever enough and he actually slaps Buttercup when she says, “I have loved more deeply than a killer like you could ever dream”. In the film, he just raises his hand as a ‘warning’. Some hero! Hmph. Buttercup herself is irritatingly dim-witted, I could not get over it. Even the freaking head of security had more lines than I deemed necessary.

Too unsettled by it, I did some research as soon as I got online at home. This ‘classic tale of true love and high adventure’ is supposedly written by some Florinese guy (bear with me) named S. Morgenstern and is abridged by William Goldman (he is most famous for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). He also writes the screenplay for the film. It got quite confusing but apparently S. Morgenstern is, wait for it, Mr. Goldman himself. It’s supposedly brilliant, the way the book is written, leading readers to believe that places such as Florin and Guilder exist and that the story itself is centuries old. They are, in fact, old (relatively) names for Dutch coins. Yes, it was very silly of me to believe that such places existed but when I grew up, everything was real. I am very impressionable.

Anyway, in light of all of that brouhaha, I grudgingly admit that maybe it is quite clever of the author to have written the book the way he did, I’ve never read anything like it, but I found it too distracting. There I was, engrossed in the story, hanging onto every word, and then–bam–the author inserts a silly footnote about his fictional son (he has two daughters in real life) smack in the middle of a particularly intense scene. There were so many times I bolted upright in my seat thinking, wtf!

I’m going to watch this film again very soon to get rid of the mental anguish that I’ve been subjected to and restore the story to the way it is in my head, the way it’s meant to be: A classic tale of true love and high adventure with no freakin’ running commentary.