Posts tagged gray318

Ilustrado — Miguel Syjuco

Miguel Syjuco’s “official” Web site is a joke. Entering www.miguelsyjuco.com (a perfectly innocuous URL) on your browser’s address bar for the first time, you may be surprised seconds later to find neither the dynamic cleverness of an author Web site like Jennifer Egan’s nor the static simplicity of something like David Mitchell’s. Instead you’ll be treated to an embarrassment of riches, chock-full as it is with blocks of text and images forming a tapestry of memes, and an assault on the senses, particularly on your sense of sight but not, to be sure, on your sense of humor.

MiguelSyjuco.com, as the site’s welcome greeting says, is an online fan shrine built by a woman named Vita Nova in honor of Syjuco and his debut novel, Ilustrado. You’ll be forgiven for tagging Vita Nova as nothing short of a creep—not least for sending Syjuco a ton of emails, asking him to write her biography, and posting his courteous but evidently worried reply—not because she may very well be just that (a creep), but because she isn’t real to begin with. Vita Nova is but one of the characters in the very same book for which she has supposedly put up a loving if LOL-tastic tribute rendered in topsy-turvy HTML. The amusingly amateurish author Web site is, apparently, engineered by none other than Vita Nova’s creator, the Montreal-based Filipino writer Miguel Syjuco.

Miguel Syjuco’s novel, Ilustrado, is also a joke, even as it streams from a rather unfunny prologue involving the death of a renowned Filipino expatriate writer named Crispin Salvador. 

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Anthropology — Dan Rhodes

Paperback, 208 pages
Canongate Books, 2 February 2010 
Cover design by gray318
First published in 2000 
Available at Fully Booked
Download the Kindle Edition

If brevity is, as Polonius says in Hamlet, indeed the soul of wit, then Dan Rhodes, with his turn of the millennium collection of short short stories, is a writer possessed of extraordinarily sharp perception. His stories in this collection, titled Anthropology and a Hundred Other Stories, represent the best that short comic and literary fiction can offer.

Anthropology is a slim anthology of a hundred and one stories, each a hundred and one words strong and each narrated by an unnamed man romantically involved either currently or in the past with a woman who may also be conveniently without a name or otherwise may bear a quaint one. One such woman of the latter category is Badr-al-Budur. She is, undeniably, named after a major character (Aladdin’s love interest, no less, who was Disneyfied into Princess Jasmine) in Arabian Nights, a k a One Thousand and One Nights, which was a probable inspiration for Rhodes’s book. A thousand and one is too big a number, and it runs counter to the idea of infusing one’s work with “the soul of wit,” so perhaps after wrapping his clever head around that observation Rhodes decided to slash off a zero and settled for the resultant magic number of a hundred and one. But the similarity between the two collections goes well beyond the binary persuasion of their respective story counts, for much like the fantastical tales of thieves, sailors, princes, and genies in Scheherazade’s medieval stories, Rhodes’s contemporary stories populated for the most part by men who are in love and their girlfriends who are out of it take on a magical quality, often of the peculiar, twisted sort, even as they are typically grounded in reality.

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Judging a book by the cover | Manila Bulletin

This article (written by Blooey) is very relevant to my interests. Paint me red and call me shallow, but I do judge a book by its cover. It’s this habit of mine that introduced me to some of the best book cover designers that I wouldn’t have bothered knowing about were I not so keen on paying attention (undue, some people might argue) to book covers. My favorite, as I’ve said a million times, is Jonathan Gray aka gray318. His designs are invariably original and refreshing. His style is utterly distinctive that it’s difficult for me not to recognize a gray318-designed book even from yards away. I had even bought books I’d never heard about solely because the covers were designed by him. Did the pages between those covers turn out to be any good? Luckily, yes. The guy is yet to design a good cover for a bad book, I believe.

I also collect multiple copies with different covers of books that I really like, including White Noise, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Then We Came to the End. My ultimate goal, though, is to collect all extant editions of my favorite Bible book, The Catcher in the Rye — a task which entails scouring eBay and Amazon for hours on end every week for reasonably priced old ones. Here’s my latest catch, won after a nasty bidding war with Shinji, a fellow Holden Caulfield worshiper:

Going back to the article — I’d have liked to read what the author and her respondents thought of generally not being able to judge an e-book by its cover. I’m not a fan of e-books, but recently I’ve been enjoying iBooks, an iPhone e-reading app which displays the books installed on the application on a virtual shelf showing their covers. Most of the books I’ve downloaded so far are from Project Gutenberg, and they simply come with plain text covers showing the title and the author. The only one with an artistically rendered cover is the complimentary, pre-installed Winnie-the-Pooh book. And surprise, surprise, that’s the only one I’ve read in my iBooks collection so far, which goes to show that my inclination towards good book cover design transcends media. Heh.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson Halfway through the first chapter of Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 novella, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a character named Richard Enfield says, “I took the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman that the whole business looked apocryphal, and that a man does not, in real life, walk into a cellar door at four in the morning and come out with another man’s check for close upon a hundred pounds.” He conveys this to his lawyer cousin, Mr. Gabriel Utterson, as he recounts the odd story he has of the “gentleman,” a certain Mr. Edward Hyde, who one night deliberately trampled a little girl after she accidentally bumped into him. Several bystanders, including Mr. Enfield and the girl’s family, witnessed the incident and were quick to seize the offender. However, Mr. Hyde was just as quick to think up a way to appease them: he entered a nearby door and quickly produced a check for a substantial amount signed by one Dr. Henry Jekyll, a distinguished gentleman who, as it turns out, is one of Mr. Utterson’s clients.  I cite the above line of dialogue as I think that, as innocuous as it sounds, it is a near-perfect prefigurement of the essential characteristics of the excellent short novel where it is from. For one thing, it is spoken by a character in a burst of submission to gossip, thus itself qualifying as something of doubtful veracity, which in turn can also be said of the rest of the book. There’s the mention of a man apparently posing as another, claiming no less than the other’s signature as his own. However, it’s not the book’s subject, a man with a split personality, that lends an air of intriguing dubiousness to the narrative so much as the structure of the narrative itself. Stevenson’s authorial technique is one which allows for a spellbinding sense of mystery to hang relentlessly over his story. For the most part, the story is told by a narrator who only knows as much as the characters about what exactly is going on. But near the end Stevenson abandons the third-person narrative and transforms his novella into an epistolary tale, focusing on two revelatory letters, one written by Dr. Jekyll and the other by a colleague, addressed to Mr. Utterson, who I ought to point out is the real central character of the story, the fulcrum about which the two title characters move. But how much of the revelations contained in these letters, including Dr. Jekyll’s reflection on the duality of man (“Man is not truly one, but truly two.”), are true, when the circumstances under which they were created are already beyond Mr. Utterson’s (or indeed, anyone’s) belief?  What is not open to question, though, is Stevenson’s grace of style, as exemplified by the phrase, cellar door—arguably the most phonetically beautiful word combination in the English language—in Mr. Enfield’s quintessential line. Stevenson’s wife famously said that the story of Jekyll and Hyde came to her husband in a dream. It’s no wonder then that it reads like one, terrifying like a nightmare and at the same time exhilarating like a trance. His talent is particularly evident in his numerous, mostly gothic, dreamlike descriptions of unpleasant meteorological conditions the characters are forced to deal with. Following the murder of an old gentleman in the hands of Mr. Hyde, Stevenson writes: “It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog of the season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours…” Then, when Mr. Utterson sets out to finally confront his client, the narrator observes: “It was a wild, cold, seasonable night of March, with a pale moon, lying on her back as though the wind had tilted her, and a flying wrack of the most diaphanous and lawny texture. The wind made talking difficult, and flecked the blood into the face.”  Like Alice in Wonderland, Gulliver’s Travels, and Moby Dick, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is one of those classic books whose stories most of us already know from somewhere, often from countless adaptations across various media and quick plot summaries stumbled upon while surfing Wikipedia, but haven’t actually read. We know it’s about a man who leads a double life, a man who oscillates between being the two title characters, one of whom is mostly good and the other downright evil, but how many of us, knowing full well that the entire text is available in the public domain, have actually gone out of our ways to experience the real deal?  I for one lament that my introduction to Stevenson’s landmark story was by way of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde, a movie I remember watching on VHS with my family when I was in fourth grade. It starred Tim Daly as a descendant of Dr. Jekyll who, in a supposedly clever twist to the original story, transforms into a voluptuous woman played by Sean Young after an experiment gone awry. I was only ten then, naïve and easily pleased, and seeing a man metamorphose into a woman with long hair and ample breasts amused me to no end. It was not until fifteen years later, as I breezed through a Jon Gray-designed Headline Review “The Best Adventure Stories Ever” edition of the book which I found while rummaging through a bargain table in a secondhand book shop, that I realized what a travesty it was, even for a loose comedy film adaptation of this truly amazing short novel.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Halfway through the first chapter of Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 novella, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a character named Richard Enfield says, “I took the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman that the whole business looked apocryphal, and that a man does not, in real life, walk into a cellar door at four in the morning and come out with another man’s check for close upon a hundred pounds.” He conveys this to his lawyer cousin, Mr. Gabriel Utterson, as he recounts the odd story he has of the “gentleman,” a certain Mr. Edward Hyde, who one night deliberately trampled a little girl after she accidentally bumped into him. Several bystanders, including Mr. Enfield and the girl’s family, witnessed the incident and were quick to seize the offender. However, Mr. Hyde was just as quick to think up a way to appease them: he entered a nearby door and quickly produced a check for a substantial amount signed by one Dr. Henry Jekyll, a distinguished gentleman who, as it turns out, is one of Mr. Utterson’s clients. 

I cite the above line of dialogue as I think that, as innocuous as it sounds, it is a near-perfect prefigurement of the essential characteristics of the excellent short novel where it is from. For one thing, it is spoken by a character in a burst of submission to gossip, thus itself qualifying as something of doubtful veracity, which in turn can also be said of the rest of the book. There’s the mention of a man apparently posing as another, claiming no less than the other’s signature as his own. However, it’s not the book’s subject, a man with a split personality, that lends an air of intriguing dubiousness to the narrative so much as the structure of the narrative itself. Stevenson’s authorial technique is one which allows for a spellbinding sense of mystery to hang relentlessly over his story. For the most part, the story is told by a narrator who only knows as much as the characters about what exactly is going on. But near the end Stevenson abandons the third-person narrative and transforms his novella into an epistolary tale, focusing on two revelatory letters, one written by Dr. Jekyll and the other by a colleague, addressed to Mr. Utterson, who I ought to point out is the real central character of the story, the fulcrum about which the two title characters move. But how much of the revelations contained in these letters, including Dr. Jekyll’s reflection on the duality of man (“Man is not truly one, but truly two.”), are true, when the circumstances under which they were created are already beyond Mr. Utterson’s (or indeed, anyone’s) belief? 

What is not open to question, though, is Stevenson’s grace of style, as exemplified by the phrase, cellar door—arguably the most phonetically beautiful word combination in the English language—in Mr. Enfield’s quintessential line. Stevenson’s wife famously said that the story of Jekyll and Hyde came to her husband in a dream. It’s no wonder then that it reads like one, terrifying like a nightmare and at the same time exhilarating like a trance. His talent is particularly evident in his numerous, mostly gothic, dreamlike descriptions of unpleasant meteorological conditions the characters are forced to deal with. Following the murder of an old gentleman in the hands of Mr. Hyde, Stevenson writes:

“It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog of the season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours…”

Then, when Mr. Utterson sets out to finally confront his client, the narrator observes:

“It was a wild, cold, seasonable night of March, with a pale moon, lying on her back as though the wind had tilted her, and a flying wrack of the most diaphanous and lawny texture. The wind made talking difficult, and flecked the blood into the face.” 

Like Alice in Wonderland, Gulliver’s Travels, and Moby Dick, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is one of those classic books whose stories most of us already know from somewhere, often from countless adaptations across various media and quick plot summaries stumbled upon while surfing Wikipedia, but haven’t actually read. We know it’s about a man who leads a double life, a man who oscillates between being the two title characters, one of whom is mostly good and the other downright evil, but how many of us, knowing full well that the entire text is available in the public domain, have actually gone out of our ways to experience the real deal? 

I for one lament that my introduction to Stevenson’s landmark story was by way of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde, a movie I remember watching on VHS with my family when I was in fourth grade. It starred Tim Daly as a descendant of Dr. Jekyll who, in a supposedly clever twist to the original story, transforms into a voluptuous woman played by Sean Young after an experiment gone awry. I was only ten then, naïve and easily pleased, and seeing a man metamorphose into a woman with long hair and ample breasts amused me to no end. It was not until fifteen years later, as I breezed through a Jon Gray-designed Headline Review “The Best Adventure Stories Ever” edition of the book which I found while rummaging through a bargain table in a secondhand book shop, that I realized what a travesty it was, even for a loose comedy film adaptation of this truly amazing short novel.

Miguel Syjuco’s Ilustrado is all the rage lately. So are giveaways! After buying The Dark Knight Returns, I thought I’d stay in the store for a little while longer last night and browse the non-graphic novel shelves. As a habitué of the store, I had practically memorized what books are in a particular aisle and can quickly spot the new arrivals therein—save for the shelves in the large-format section, which is home to books whose size and price more often than not keep me at bay. But for some reason I found myself taking a look at the books in said section last night and was surprised to see a copy of the Picador edition of Ilustrado (pictured right). The brilliant cover by Jon Gray, who also designed the cover of the smaller, cheaper, and more common Farrar, Straus and Giroux edition (left), a copy of which I had purchased several weeks back, caught me off guard. As much a collector of book covers as a collector of books, I bought it right there and then. Now, I have two copies of the novel, and I’m giving one of them (the smaller and cheaper one) away. Similar to the tiny set of rules I specified for my first book giveaway half a year ago, all you have to do to win is to like, reblog, or reply to this post. Also, lest I risk ponying up a ridiculous amount of money for international shipping, you need to be a resident of the Republic of the Philippines to qualify. The winner will be determined via random draw on May 30, 2010. So what are you waiting for? Hit that heart button or buzz in with your thoughts and be one step closer to being enlightened. But wait! There’s more! If you want to earn an additionally entry for the draw, just photo reply to this post with your favorite book cover design. I expect to see more works by Jon Gray and maybe a little bit of Milan Bozic, Peter Mendelsuhn, David Pearson, and Chip Kidd, but I bet I’ll be delighted at your choices all the same. Ilustrado, by the way, is Syjuco’s debut novel. He won the Man Asian Literary Prize and the Palanca Award in 2008 for the manuscript of Ilustrado. Syjuco was born in the Philippines and currently lives in Montreal. He is therefore ineligible to join this giveaway.

Miguel Syjuco’s Ilustrado is all the rage lately. So are giveaways!

After buying The Dark Knight Returns, I thought I’d stay in the store for a little while longer last night and browse the non-graphic novel shelves. As a habitué of the store, I had practically memorized what books are in a particular aisle and can quickly spot the new arrivals therein—save for the shelves in the large-format section, which is home to books whose size and price more often than not keep me at bay. But for some reason I found myself taking a look at the books in said section last night and was surprised to see a copy of the Picador edition of Ilustrado (pictured right). The brilliant cover by Jon Gray, who also designed the cover of the smaller, cheaper, and more common Farrar, Straus and Giroux edition (left), a copy of which I had purchased several weeks back, caught me off guard. As much a collector of book covers as a collector of books, I bought it right there and then.

Now, I have two copies of the novel, and I’m giving one of them (the smaller and cheaper one) away. Similar to the tiny set of rules I specified for my first book giveaway half a year ago, all you have to do to win is to like, reblog, or reply to this post. Also, lest I risk ponying up a ridiculous amount of money for international shipping, you need to be a resident of the Republic of the Philippines to qualify. The winner will be determined via random draw on May 30, 2010.

So what are you waiting for? Hit that heart button or buzz in with your thoughts and be one step closer to being enlightened.

But wait! There’s more! If you want to earn an additionally entry for the draw, just photo reply to this post with your favorite book cover design. I expect to see more works by Jon Gray and maybe a little bit of Milan Bozic, Peter Mendelsuhn, David Pearson, and Chip Kidd, but I bet I’ll be delighted at your choices all the same.

Ilustrado, by the way, is Syjuco’s debut novel. He won the Man Asian Literary Prize and the Palanca Award in 2008 for the manuscript of Ilustrado. Syjuco was born in the Philippines and currently lives in Montreal. He is therefore ineligible to join this giveaway.