Posts tagged bullet points

Yesterday was the conclusion of the 32nd Manila International Book Fair (or, as I like to call it, one-of-only-two-occasions-when-I-would-gladly-travel-south-toward-SM-Mall-of-Asia [the other one being a Harry Potter IMAX screening]). The fair commenced on Wednesday, September 14, and already thousands and thousands of books were already in place (or, in the case of most of the bargain bins, disarray). Part of the fair’s opening day was the holding of the first ever Filipino Reader Conference: Filipino Readers Make It Social!, organized by a group of book bloggers headed by Honey. It was quite a success, and I was honored to have played a part in making it happen: I was on the book blogging panel, alongside Tarie, Charles, Chachic, and Sasha. There was also a panel on book clubs, run by Tata of Ex Libris Philippines, Gege of Flips Flipping Pages, and Jzhun of Filipino Goodreads. The Kobayashi Maru of Love author, publisher, and blogger Carljoe Javier gave the keynote speech, “No Line on the Horizon: The Merging of Readers and Writers through Social Media.” You can listen to the recordings here, courtesy of Charles, and while you do you may skip the rasping parts that are my voice. Now time for some bullet points: books salvaged from the fair. Forbidden Fruit: From the Letters of Abelard and Heloise - Part of the Penguin Great Loves series. You’ll perhaps remember Abelard and Heloise from the scintillating street puppet show staged by John Cusack in Being John Malkovich. The Lincoln Lawyer by Michael Connelly - Matthew McConaughey looking all Matthew McConaughey-y on a Lincoln Town Car with a license plate that says, “NT GLTY.” Who says I read only Fiction with a capital F? Human Happiness by Blaise Pascal - Part of the Penguin Great Ideas series. Friends, stop reading Paulo Coelho’s books and Twitter timeline. Read this instead. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys - A modern classic inspired by an old classic, Jane Eyre. Imagist Poetry by Peter Jones - An anthology of imagism (whatever that means lol). How to Travel with a Salmon and Other Essays by Umberto Eco - Includes the essay, “How to Recognize a Porn Movie.” Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney - A token from Scholastic. I first read this a couple of years ago. It’s funny. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera - One of Los Angeles Times’s 61 essential postmodern reads, a list I’m trying to complete. Kraken by China Miéville - Too cool for the Man Booker. Wildwood by Colin Meloy - The first of a trilogy of children’s books written by the lead singer of The Decemberists and illustrated by his wife. Blurbs generously provided by Trenton Lee Stewart, Lemony Snicket, Jonathan Safran Foer, and Michael Chabon. Shot by Both Sides by Meisei Goto - Another book to satisfy my appetite for Japanese literature in particular and books in translation in general.

Yesterday was the conclusion of the 32nd Manila International Book Fair (or, as I like to call it, one-of-only-two-occasions-when-I-would-gladly-travel-south-toward-SM-Mall-of-Asia [the other one being a Harry Potter IMAX screening]). The fair commenced on Wednesday, September 14, and already thousands and thousands of books were already in place (or, in the case of most of the bargain bins, disarray). Part of the fair’s opening day was the holding of the first ever Filipino Reader Conference: Filipino Readers Make It Social!, organized by a group of book bloggers headed by Honey. It was quite a success, and I was honored to have played a part in making it happen: I was on the book blogging panel, alongside Tarie, Charles, Chachic, and Sasha. There was also a panel on book clubs, run by Tata of Ex Libris Philippines, Gege of Flips Flipping Pages, and Jzhun of Filipino Goodreads. The Kobayashi Maru of Love author, publisher, and blogger Carljoe Javier gave the keynote speech, “No Line on the Horizon: The Merging of Readers and Writers through Social Media.” You can listen to the recordings here, courtesy of Charles, and while you do you may skip the rasping parts that are my voice.

Now time for some bullet points: books salvaged from the fair.

  • Forbidden Fruit: From the Letters of Abelard and Heloise - Part of the Penguin Great Loves series. You’ll perhaps remember Abelard and Heloise from the scintillating street puppet show staged by John Cusack in Being John Malkovich.
  • The Lincoln Lawyer by Michael Connelly - Matthew McConaughey looking all Matthew McConaughey-y on a Lincoln Town Car with a license plate that says, “NT GLTY.” Who says I read only Fiction with a capital F?
  • Human Happiness by Blaise Pascal - Part of the Penguin Great Ideas series. Friends, stop reading Paulo Coelho’s books and Twitter timeline. Read this instead.
  • Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys - A modern classic inspired by an old classic, Jane Eyre.
  • Imagist Poetry by Peter Jones - An anthology of imagism (whatever that means lol).
  • How to Travel with a Salmon and Other Essays by Umberto Eco - Includes the essay, “How to Recognize a Porn Movie.”
  • Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney - A token from Scholastic. I first read this a couple of years ago. It’s funny.
  • The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera - One of Los Angeles Times’s 61 essential postmodern reads, a list I’m trying to complete.
  • Kraken by China Miéville - Too cool for the Man Booker.
  • Wildwood by Colin Meloy - The first of a trilogy of children’s books written by the lead singer of The Decemberists and illustrated by his wife. Blurbs generously provided by Trenton Lee Stewart, Lemony Snicket, Jonathan Safran Foer, and Michael Chabon.
  • Shot by Both Sides by Meisei Goto - Another book to satisfy my appetite for Japanese literature in particular and books in translation in general.

Books Do Furnish An Apartment

Please don’t say ‘Have you read all these books?’ because then I’d have to kill you, and I don’t have any acid with which to dissolve the corpse in the bathtub. Or a bathtub.

That’s Dame Jessica Zafra, in hypothetical response to someone who, upon seeing the lot of books she keeps in her apartment, remarked, “You have a lot of books.” I, too, have a lot of books, and you, too, should know better than to ask if I’ve read them all. Ask me instead if I, in anticipation of my annual moving-out party (which involves just me and a couple of friends moving my stuff from one apartment to another then going to the nearest store to drink ice cold Coca-Cola) and taking a leaf out of Carljoe Javier’s book, intend to give away some of them. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.

Below is the list of books I’m giving you permission to purloin, and over here are several photos of a few of them. Help yourself.

Read more »

It’s been a while since I last fired a series of bullets in this godforsaken Cormac McCarthy-esque landscape of a book blog, so I figured I’d post one now. Not that anyone actually noticed that it’s been a long while since nor that anyone wondered why my last couple of posts were about films based on books and not about books, period. The last unordered list I posted was of the books that I fortunately rescued from the deluge that was our fourth-floor apartment’s bathroom faucet’s totally unexpected four-in-the-morning wake-up call; the one before that was of the books I rescued from the bargain bin of Powerbooks on the first day of the bookstore chain’s crazy-amazing month-long sale; and a list before that was of the books I got from a Fully Booked branch up north where I sought refuge after I rescued myself from a literal daylight robbery near to where I usually eat fried chicken and fries. Apparently, I’m great at rescuing. And this past week saw me rescuing more books, from book sale tables and long-forgotten spots on bookstore shelves, and—again—myself, from the claustrophobic cubicle of boredom. Enter: another stack of bullet points. Light Boxes by Shane Jones. A slim but not inexpensive novel, which I finished while lining up for An Education at Cine Europa last Saturday night, about former balloonists waging war on the month of February. Go figure. Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner. When I’m not busy incriminating myself on Twitter, I may be power-searching for and bidding on books on eBay. This one, purportedly containing one of the longest sentences in Western literature, is my latest catch. The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace. Included in the Penguin Ink series of reprints featuring cover illustrations by famous tattoo artists, this is the amazing first novel by the author of the more amazing Infinite Jest. The Hundred Brothers by Donald Antrim. A novel about a hundred brothers. Postmodern hilarity ensues. Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn & David Levithan. I first read this on my office computer, by way of a pirated e-book version which I, being an electronics engineer in a company chiefly concerned with electronics engineering, cleverly renamed, Voltage and Current Calculations. Of course I had to get the “real” version. Thumbsucker by Walter Kirn. A novel about “the King Kong of oral obsessives” by the author of Up in the Air. Money by Martin Amis. One of the two books I got for only Php50 at the National Book Store stall at the Manila International Book Fair at the SMX Convention Center in SM Mall of Asia last Saturday. The Tent by Margaret Atwood. The other book I got for only Php50 at the National Book Store stall at the Manila International Book Fair at the SMX Convention Center in SM Mall of Asia last Saturday. V. by Thomas Pynchon. V is for very rare. Also from the aforementioned book fair, but purchased at well over Php50. V is for very expensive. A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. A significant portion of this novel is told through a series of PowerPoint slides. Also, Egan is significantly sexy. The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman. For weeks I practically had to pester Fully Booked to carry copies of this book. Evidently, my pestering has come to a satisfactory conclusion. C by Tom McCarthy. Imported from Singapore by the lovely Ysa. Tom McCarthy, I’d like you to meet Man Booker.

It’s been a while since I last fired a series of bullets in this godforsaken Cormac McCarthy-esque landscape of a book blog, so I figured I’d post one now. Not that anyone actually noticed that it’s been a long while since nor that anyone wondered why my last couple of posts were about films based on books and not about books, period. The last unordered list I posted was of the books that I fortunately rescued from the deluge that was our fourth-floor apartment’s bathroom faucet’s totally unexpected four-in-the-morning wake-up call; the one before that was of the books I rescued from the bargain bin of Powerbooks on the first day of the bookstore chain’s crazy-amazing month-long sale; and a list before that was of the books I got from a Fully Booked branch up north where I sought refuge after I rescued myself from a literal daylight robbery near to where I usually eat fried chicken and fries. Apparently, I’m great at rescuing. And this past week saw me rescuing more books, from book sale tables and long-forgotten spots on bookstore shelves, and—again—myself, from the claustrophobic cubicle of boredom. Enter: another stack of bullet points.

  • Light Boxes by Shane Jones. A slim but not inexpensive novel, which I finished while lining up for An Education at Cine Europa last Saturday night, about former balloonists waging war on the month of February. Go figure.
  • Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner. When I’m not busy incriminating myself on Twitter, I may be power-searching for and bidding on books on eBay. This one, purportedly containing one of the longest sentences in Western literature, is my latest catch.
  • The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace. Included in the Penguin Ink series of reprints featuring cover illustrations by famous tattoo artists, this is the amazing first novel by the author of the more amazing Infinite Jest.
  • The Hundred Brothers by Donald Antrim. A novel about a hundred brothers. Postmodern hilarity ensues.
  • Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn & David Levithan. I first read this on my office computer, by way of a pirated e-book version which I, being an electronics engineer in a company chiefly concerned with electronics engineering, cleverly renamed, Voltage and Current Calculations. Of course I had to get the “real” version.
  • Thumbsucker by Walter Kirn. A novel about “the King Kong of oral obsessives” by the author of Up in the Air.
  • Money by Martin Amis. One of the two books I got for only Php50 at the National Book Store stall at the Manila International Book Fair at the SMX Convention Center in SM Mall of Asia last Saturday.
  • The Tent by Margaret Atwood. The other book I got for only Php50 at the National Book Store stall at the Manila International Book Fair at the SMX Convention Center in SM Mall of Asia last Saturday.
  • V. by Thomas Pynchon. V is for very rare. Also from the aforementioned book fair, but purchased at well over Php50. V is for very expensive.
  • A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. A significant portion of this novel is told through a series of PowerPoint slides. Also, Egan is significantly sexy.
  • The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman. For weeks I practically had to pester Fully Booked to carry copies of this book. Evidently, my pestering has come to a satisfactory conclusion.
  • C by Tom McCarthy. Imported from Singapore by the lovely Ysa. Tom McCarthy, I’d like you to meet Man Booker.
There was no instance of precipitation today, so here’s a light hail of bullets. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky  Cities in Flight by James Blish  The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer  You Don’t Love Me Yet by Jonathan Lethem  Summerland by Michael Chabon  House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski  Youth in Revolt by C.D. Payne  There was no instance of precipitation today, but at around five this morning a flash flood swept through our apartment. We live in the fourth floor. A couple of months ago I posted a picture of most of the books I’ve acquired since I moved here in Metro Manila three years ago. It shows a collection of titles which more or less assumes the role of a to-be-read pile, and it’s quite a lovely photo, if I must say so myself, my low-resolution iPhone camera notwithstanding. Here it is again:  In the paragraph accompanying this two-month-old photo of my shelf-deprived books in the original post, I wrote that I intended to “move them to higher ground,” like inside “the cupboard above the kitchen sink,” since they were “poorly arranged along a narrow corridor leading to the bathroom.” Being a man of my word, I did relocate some of them, particularly the ones in the arbitrarily chosen second and fourth stacks. The first, third, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth stacks were, rather carelessly, left behind and, last night before I and my flat-mates went to bed, were left at the mercy of the bathroom and the impressive wetness it could bring about. And bring about wetness it did. Last night, a few minutes before midnight, our water supply was cut off. Then one of us had the brilliant idea of going to the bathroom right before he went to sleep, opening one of the faucets in the bathroom, and, after seeing that there’s no water coming out of its spout, blissfully forgetting to turn its handle screw back to the off position. Four hours later the water supply was restored and water started escaping from the faucet in question. The kitchen floor must have been flooded in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t until an hour had passed since the first drop of many came out that we got our “kick” (You didn’t think I’d post about sleeping without mentioning at least one Inception reference, did you?) and got surprised by the sight of all the wetness, whose essence is moisture and which in turn is the essence of beauty (You didn’t think I’d post about an abundance of tap water without mentioning at least one Zoolander reference, did you? You did? Oh.), around us. Instinctively, I dashed to where my books were, towards the “narrow corridor leading to the bathroom,” and I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw that only a portion of the bottom books, listed and pictured with the wetness-absorbing Spongebob above, were out of sight and under water.  I have since apologized to these ill-fated books, caressed their covers and flaps, and blew their pages dry to some extent. I have also promised to read them one after another as soon as they regain every ounce of their non-wetness, or else I cease to be a man of my word.

There was no instance of precipitation today, so here’s a light hail of bullets.

There was no instance of precipitation today, but at around five this morning a flash flood swept through our apartment. We live in the fourth floor.

A couple of months ago I posted a picture of most of the books I’ve acquired since I moved here in Metro Manila three years ago. It shows a collection of titles which more or less assumes the role of a to-be-read pile, and it’s quite a lovely photo, if I must say so myself, my low-resolution iPhone camera notwithstanding. Here it is again: 

In the paragraph accompanying this two-month-old photo of my shelf-deprived books in the original post, I wrote that I intended to “move them to higher ground,” like inside “the cupboard above the kitchen sink,” since they were “poorly arranged along a narrow corridor leading to the bathroom.” Being a man of my word, I did relocate some of them, particularly the ones in the arbitrarily chosen second and fourth stacks. The first, third, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth stacks were, rather carelessly, left behind and, last night before I and my flat-mates went to bed, were left at the mercy of the bathroom and the impressive wetness it could bring about.

And bring about wetness it did. Last night, a few minutes before midnight, our water supply was cut off. Then one of us had the brilliant idea of going to the bathroom right before he went to sleep, opening one of the faucets in the bathroom, and, after seeing that there’s no water coming out of its spout, blissfully forgetting to turn its handle screw back to the off position. Four hours later the water supply was restored and water started escaping from the faucet in question. The kitchen floor must have been flooded in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t until an hour had passed since the first drop of many came out that we got our “kick” (You didn’t think I’d post about sleeping without mentioning at least one Inception reference, did you?) and got surprised by the sight of all the wetness, whose essence is moisture and which in turn is the essence of beauty (You didn’t think I’d post about an abundance of tap water without mentioning at least one Zoolander reference, did you? You did? Oh.), around us.

Instinctively, I dashed to where my books were, towards the “narrow corridor leading to the bathroom,” and I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw that only a portion of the bottom books, listed and pictured with the wetness-absorbing Spongebob above, were out of sight and under water. 

I have since apologized to these ill-fated books, caressed their covers and flaps, and blew their pages dry to some extent. I have also promised to read them one after another as soon as they regain every ounce of their non-wetness, or else I cease to be a man of my word.

We just wrapped up a round of bookfaces, quotes, thoughts, and reviews on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby at Read Hard!, and now we’re moving on to another classic. This time we’re taking a stab at a modern one made into a celebrated film by none other than Stanley Kubrick. It’s not Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey nor is it Stephen King’s The Shining. It’s Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, which beat out Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Lois Lowry’s The Giver as Read Hard! members’ choice of dystopian novel to be pulled off the shelves for our little online discussion. This puts the number of my currently-reading books to a formidable five: Personal Days by Ed Park. Take a look at the Amazon page of Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End and you’ll see this as one of the books that most people who bought Ferris’s wonderful novel also bought. I can see why. It’s funny, it’s smart, and it’s about people like me. The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan. I’ve been reading this for so long that the phrase, “currently reading,” may not be applicable anymore. It’s basically Percy Jackson minus Percy Jackson plus a lot of weird Egyptians. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Today is the 19th of July, so I’ll be re-reading Chapter 19 tonight. The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White. The only book I’m always currently reading. Besides The Catcher in the Rye, of course. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess. I’ve had my minimalist copy for months. I accidentally purchased it at 80% off during a big sale in a big bookstore late last year. It wasn’t supposed to be discounted, but I bought it together with armloads of books on bargain and the poor cashier mistook it for one of them. Lucky me, I guess. And speaking of so-unbelievably-priced-off-they’re-as-good-as-free books, here’s round two of my Powerbooks Power Sale book loot bullet points: The Clothes They Stood Up In by Alan Bennett. Yes, this is indeed one half of the two-books-in-one The Clothes They Stood Up In and The Lady in the Van that I bought during round one. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. Well, duh. Prelude by Katherine Mansfield. Virgina Woolf on Mansfield: “I was jealous of her writing—the only writing I have been jealous of.” Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. I’m inclined to buy physical copies of novels which are readily available in the public domain only if I like their covers. Bite me. Clark Gifford’s Body by Kenneth Fearing. My first ever New York Review Books Classics novel. Morte D’Urban by J.F. Powers. My second New York Review Books Classics novel. The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder. Don has promised to give me his copy, the same edition as this one, and I’ve also found a smaller, older edition a couple of weeks before, but I still ended up buying this. Sue me. Love-Lies-Bleeding by Don DeLillo. I am not a huge fan of Mr. DeLillo, remember? The Elected Member by Bernice Rubens. This novel’s cover looks Kafkaesque, but pleasingly so. And the book’s a Man Booker Prize winner. Sounds important. A Passage to India by E.M. Forster. Another TIME 100 novel, but it’s one I am almost certain I won’t read anyway on account of its daunting length and yawn-inspiring title. Attention. Deficit. Disorder. by Brad Listi. Yes. Where was I? Citizen Vince by Jess Walter. My second copy of probably the only piece of crime fiction that I greatly enjoyed. I intend to give it away. Any takers?

We just wrapped up a round of bookfaces, quotes, thoughts, and reviews on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby at Read Hard!, and now we’re moving on to another classic. This time we’re taking a stab at a modern one made into a celebrated film by none other than Stanley Kubrick. It’s not Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey nor is it Stephen King’s The Shining. It’s Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, which beat out Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Lois Lowry’s The Giver as Read Hard! members’ choice of dystopian novel to be pulled off the shelves for our little online discussion. This puts the number of my currently-reading books to a formidable five:

  • Personal Days by Ed Park. Take a look at the Amazon page of Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End and you’ll see this as one of the books that most people who bought Ferris’s wonderful novel also bought. I can see why. It’s funny, it’s smart, and it’s about people like me.
  • The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan. I’ve been reading this for so long that the phrase, “currently reading,” may not be applicable anymore. It’s basically Percy Jackson minus Percy Jackson plus a lot of weird Egyptians.
  • To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Today is the 19th of July, so I’ll be re-reading Chapter 19 tonight.
  • The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White. The only book I’m always currently reading. Besides The Catcher in the Rye, of course.
  • A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess. I’ve had my minimalist copy for months. I accidentally purchased it at 80% off during a big sale in a big bookstore late last year. It wasn’t supposed to be discounted, but I bought it together with armloads of books on bargain and the poor cashier mistook it for one of them. Lucky me, I guess.

And speaking of so-unbelievably-priced-off-they’re-as-good-as-free books, here’s round two of my Powerbooks Power Sale book loot bullet points:

  • The Clothes They Stood Up In by Alan Bennett. Yes, this is indeed one half of the two-books-in-one The Clothes They Stood Up In and The Lady in the Van that I bought during round one.
  • Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. Well, duh.
  • Prelude by Katherine Mansfield. Virgina Woolf on Mansfield: “I was jealous of her writing—the only writing I have been jealous of.”
  • Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. I’m inclined to buy physical copies of novels which are readily available in the public domain only if I like their covers. Bite me.
  • Clark Gifford’s Body by Kenneth Fearing. My first ever New York Review Books Classics novel.
  • Morte D’Urban by J.F. Powers. My second New York Review Books Classics novel.
  • The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder. Don has promised to give me his copy, the same edition as this one, and I’ve also found a smaller, older edition a couple of weeks before, but I still ended up buying this. Sue me.
  • Love-Lies-Bleeding by Don DeLillo. I am not a huge fan of Mr. DeLillo, remember?
  • The Elected Member by Bernice Rubens. This novel’s cover looks Kafkaesque, but pleasingly so. And the book’s a Man Booker Prize winner. Sounds important.
  • A Passage to India by E.M. Forster. Another TIME 100 novel, but it’s one I am almost certain I won’t read anyway on account of its daunting length and yawn-inspiring title.
  • Attention. Deficit. Disorder. by Brad Listi. Yes. Where was I?
  • Citizen Vince by Jess Walter. My second copy of probably the only piece of crime fiction that I greatly enjoyed. I intend to give it away. Any takers?

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