reading : anna karenina

Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy

“Why, there’s time one would give a month of for a sixpence, and time you wouldn’t give half an hour of for any money.”

~ Prince Shtcherbatsky


lo. lee. ta.

lolita by vladimir nabokov

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta

— Yes, I’ve taken it up again and reading it from the beginning.  This time, I’ll read it through to the end.  I think I’ve aged enough for this.  And hopefully I finish it in time for its owner’s Grand Opening of his newly renovated book shop on December that I am attending so I can finally return it.  I’ve unashamedly kept the book with me for I don’t know how many years since it was lent to me.  It’s time for it to go back.

reading : north and south

My first Elizabeth Gaskell.

After reading a lot of poetry and a few contemporary stuff I felt it was time for my classics again.  I have missed that feeling of satisfaction after finishing a classic.  I have two Gaskell books in my shelf.  I think that she’s the only author I have not read that would complete my set of these particular authors (Austen, Bronte) from this era.  I hope Gaskell proves to be at par with my two favorite authors.  It would be a real treat to discover someone of their kind again.

Yesterday I was thinking about The Age of Innocence, and how books like that linger in one’s mind, making one go through some detail over and over again.  Those are the best kinds of books… Then I remembered The Lord of the Rings.  How I love that series!  I just love reading.  The prospect of finishing another classic is making me reminisce.

With all the work I have to do this week, and with my cousin’s wedding I’m helping out, I hope I can finish a few chapters.  My law books have been so left behind.  I’m just hoping I can settle everything and make a proper schedule that would fit everything in after this week.

reading : the great gatsby

In the middle of The Two Towers of The Lord of the Rings series, I decided to pick up The Great Gatsby for re-reading.  I didn’t like it the first time; I thought it was too hyped up or something.  I went through it expecting something great and was disappointed.  Re-reading it has proven me wrong.  It IS great.  Maybe I was just younger then and didn’t know what was what.  I think this is something I will read over and over again from now on.  I find myself going through phrases or whole paragraphs just because I’m admiring the mastery of the syntax.  It’s one of those books you wanna chew slowly, relish every taste, and marvel at it’s nourishing effect.

I decided to re-read this because I’m looking for something.  Sympathy, maybe.  Some feeling of connection.  I’m looking for you, I guess.  It took me a while to realize why you were so familiar.  You came from reality that I did not recognize you right away: that you were a character from out of a book.  Perfect and real.  This may be a crazy thought.  Scary.  But it is what it is and you are what you are.  And here I am finding myself learning about life still and discovering that there is so much more about life that I have yet to experience and will experience if I open up myself to it.  And I open up myself to it.  Because you taught me, in a more subtle yet profound way, that I can be great; that I AM great just because you looked my way.

reading : man’s search for meaning

Seven years since I graduated from my study of Psychology and four years of touching logotherapy on and off in college and I only get to read this now.  The book is supposed to be good, not only for those studying Psychology or are into Psychology but for anyone who, well,  is in search of his or her life’s meaning.  In my readings I come across books relating to the Holocaust, usually not intentionally, some of them happen to be classics that are not to be missed.  This issue is close to my heart, as it would be to anyone who has ever read of the suffering and deprivation that went on then.  It’s more than that and I have no words.

Why read this now?  Maybe I just want to put my sufferings into perspective.  I’m suffering.  But surely this is nothing compared to what Viktor Frankl went through.  There are far worse sort of suffering in this world.  I have it easy.  So whatever it is I’m going through, I’ll just have to endure and go on and be grateful for the sunshine.