I'm currently swept up in this children's fantasy titled Drift House: The First Voyage by Dale Peck, who's a reviewer and critic apart from an author. And can I just say that he's definitely qualified to critic other books, given how well he writes. There is, to coin a cliche, never a dull moment in Drift House (I apologise for that cliche!). It's packed with plot and it's just a rollicking ride.
In Drift House, three children (Susan, 12, and her two younger brothers, Charles and Murray) who are sent to live with their Uncle Farley. But one day (oh, gosh. "One day" - narration at its poorest. Another apology!) his house is swept away onto the Sea of Time. The children find out that the House is actually a transtemporal vessel that can travel through time. But the plot thickens when they find out that the House is headed for the Great Drain, a huge vortex in which there is no way out for one if he should be sucked into it. A mermaid called Diaphone appeals to Susan to help save her sister, who has been caught by the Time Pirates. But little did they know (really, I'm truly sorry for the cliche-laden post today) that making Susan rescue Ula lu la lu was part of their grand plan to stop Time by locking the doors to the Great Drain. The mermaids hold one of the three keys to the Drain, the Time Pirates another, and the other by Pierre Marin, an explorer and a scientist (he studies the effects of Time and is a human representative on the Island of the Past, where one of each and every species that ever lived resides).
Yes, so basically, the inhabitants of the Drift House were tricked by the mermaids to obtain the key from the Time Pirates and then the one belonging to Pierre Marin (which is in Uncle Farley's possession), so that they can lock the Drain and cease the flow of Time.
Like I said, rich in plot. And I love the setting and his writing style. Some children's authors tend to talk down in their stories - they think that just because they're writing for children they'd have to employ child-speak. Or teen-speak if they're writing YA. It annoys the hell out of me. But like Trenton Lee-Stewart, the author of The Mysterious Benedict Society series, Dale Peck doesn't see the need to talk like a child to appeal to his audience. His writing style is upbeat, like Eva Ibbotson (author of Island of the Aunts, Which Witch?, The Secret of Platform 13, Dial-a-ghost, and many others), and rational, like Lee-Stewart's. And the setting - it's out at sea! Who doesn't like a story set out at sea? Even for The Mysterious Benedict Society, my favourite so far is the second one, The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey, because it takes place aboard a ship. There's just something about the sea that makes for a good setting for a story. Maybe it's the novelty of it, or the immense potential for drama and adventure. Either way, I'm thoroughly enjoying Drift House, so much so that I've borrowed the sequel to it.
Other Books I'm Dying to Read:
1. The Six Rules of Maybe - Deb Caletti. I love every one of her books. 'Nuff said.
2. Linger - Maggie Stiefvater. The sequel to Shiver will be out in June this year. Can't wait! Shiver was so awesome (curious? read my post about it, if it helps) it made Stiefvater one of my favourite authors alread.
By the way, I am so enjoying Down With Love (every Saturday, 9pm, on Channel U). It just gets better and better with every episode, if that's even possible, since the first episode was already so fantastic. This drama totally shows the other side of Jerry, the cute funny side, and I'm loving him all the more (if, again, that is even possible). Everything about him puts me in a good mood.
Spent yesterday with my dad. We took a pretty long spin around town, with the rain pouring outside and the radio on (oldies). Another memory that I'll treasure. Dad told me about his childhood, among other things. He said the reason why he felt the need to take a picture everywhere he goes is because when one day, I'm not by his side, at least he'll have the photos to keep him company. I couldn't stop the tears from falling eventually.
Showing posts with label Jerry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jerry. Show all posts
Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
The lull in blogging was a result of the new semester beginning. And I know it's not an excuse - something should still be written no matter how busy it gets - but when I'm not reading Love in the Asylum (by Lisa Carey) and Steppenwolf (by Hermann Hesse), or watching Jerry-related clips on YouTube, I'm reading my Economics textbook.
I hear you gasp in shock. Yes, while I initially planned to take EC1101E as an exposure module (to fulfil the 5-exposure module requirement), I have now decided to minor in Econs. That decision only solidified after the first lecture of EC1101E and I read my textbook. My initial plan was to major in English and minor in New Media, but after one module in NM, I realised NM is really not for me. So many presentations and discussions and project work. I guess I'm more of the academic type rather than the hands-on type. It's just easier to study theories alone than work with a bunch of people and entrust your grades in their hands. So the problem is not the module, but the clash between the nature of the module and my own nature.
And for some reason, studying Econs is a lot more enjoyable now than at A' levels. Maybe because the lecturer's funnier, or there's less pressure now because I'm revising Econs now rather than learning it anew. It's actually sort of interesting, Econs. I remember Microecons was horrible, with all its social benefits and marginal costs and shutdown conditions. That made me dread Econs, but J2 was a whole lot better because we got the Macroecons, which I found more relevant and alive, with trade and comparative advantages and the like.
Anyway. On a completely unrelated note, I'm in my Singapore, Asia and American Power (SSA1203) lecture now, watching a rather violent clip about the Vietnam War. John F Kennedy and Nixon were pretty obsessed with eliminating Communism from Indochina, to the extent that they crippled their own economy. Lots of bombs and blood and running.
But it was a good thing MM Lee was so adamantly against Communism, though. Imagine living in a Communist country. That's like living in the world in The Giver (by Lois Lowry), with everything determined for you. I'm not qualified to say which political model is better, but as a citizen democracy is the best model as far I as I know.
(I realise my writing sounds a little stilted now. That's because I'm trying to concentrate on the clip while blogging, so my glowing personality is unable to shine through.)
Anyway, as aforementioned, I'm currently reading Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. I know I mentioned before how the book seemed to be just about a misanthrope who destests the bourgeoise society, but it also offered a very detailed character depiction of the Steppenwolf (who isn't the narrator). Hesse is something of a genius, which I guess explains his Nobel Prize for Literature in 1946.
Break now. Thank goodness. Such a grim lecture we're having.
I hear you gasp in shock. Yes, while I initially planned to take EC1101E as an exposure module (to fulfil the 5-exposure module requirement), I have now decided to minor in Econs. That decision only solidified after the first lecture of EC1101E and I read my textbook. My initial plan was to major in English and minor in New Media, but after one module in NM, I realised NM is really not for me. So many presentations and discussions and project work. I guess I'm more of the academic type rather than the hands-on type. It's just easier to study theories alone than work with a bunch of people and entrust your grades in their hands. So the problem is not the module, but the clash between the nature of the module and my own nature.
And for some reason, studying Econs is a lot more enjoyable now than at A' levels. Maybe because the lecturer's funnier, or there's less pressure now because I'm revising Econs now rather than learning it anew. It's actually sort of interesting, Econs. I remember Microecons was horrible, with all its social benefits and marginal costs and shutdown conditions. That made me dread Econs, but J2 was a whole lot better because we got the Macroecons, which I found more relevant and alive, with trade and comparative advantages and the like.
Anyway. On a completely unrelated note, I'm in my Singapore, Asia and American Power (SSA1203) lecture now, watching a rather violent clip about the Vietnam War. John F Kennedy and Nixon were pretty obsessed with eliminating Communism from Indochina, to the extent that they crippled their own economy. Lots of bombs and blood and running.
But it was a good thing MM Lee was so adamantly against Communism, though. Imagine living in a Communist country. That's like living in the world in The Giver (by Lois Lowry), with everything determined for you. I'm not qualified to say which political model is better, but as a citizen democracy is the best model as far I as I know.
(I realise my writing sounds a little stilted now. That's because I'm trying to concentrate on the clip while blogging, so my glowing personality is unable to shine through.)
Anyway, as aforementioned, I'm currently reading Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. I know I mentioned before how the book seemed to be just about a misanthrope who destests the bourgeoise society, but it also offered a very detailed character depiction of the Steppenwolf (who isn't the narrator). Hesse is something of a genius, which I guess explains his Nobel Prize for Literature in 1946.
Break now. Thank goodness. Such a grim lecture we're having.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Mysterious Benedict Society (by Trenton Lee Stewart) is so addictive. I'm on his latest sequel now, The MBS and the Prisoner's Dilemma. It's a book for young readers, but the author never speaks down to them. In fact, the writing style is very classy, but also engaging enough for children (judging from its numerous accolades). Kudos to him!
There's something about reading children's books. It's like returning home and settling under the covers at the end of the day, knowing you're safe and protected. Maybe that's the reason why children's stories are able to reach such a wide audience.
(Oh, and on a sidenote, if you were wondering what happened to my New Year resolution to become a vegetarian, here's an update: I've been eating meat everyday since I wrote that resolution down. I keep telling myself every time I slip that tomorrow, tomorrow I'll become a vegetarian. But maybe it's just not in my blood to become one. I love meat too much. I'm sorry, Earth and the animals.)
Now, back to books. If anyone knows of books with madness and romance in them, please recommend them to me. I'm dying for something with this combination. I borrowed Steppenwolf (by Hermann Hesse), and I don't know, maybe I was expecting something else, something more dramatic. But the alienated Steppenwolf is shaping up to be simply a misanthropic loner who despises bourgeoise society, not some broken, murderous man looking for love and salvation.
There's this book called Shadows, however, by Joan de la Haye, as recommended by Marcia Colette, writer. Here's the blurb:
Sarah is forced to the edge of sanity by the ghosts of her family’s past. Suffering from violent and bloody hallucinations, she seeks the help of psychiatrist and friend, Michael Brink.
After being sent to an institution in a catatonic state covered in blood – from stabbing her unfaithful boyfriend – Sarah is forced to confront the truth about her father’s death and the demon, Jack, who caused her father’s suicide and who is now the reason for her horrific hallucinations. Unlike her father, Sarah refuses to kill herself. She bargains for her life and succeeds.
In Sarah’s struggle to regain her life and her sanity, she discovers there is more to the world than she could ever have imagined, and it leaves her seeking the answer to the nagging question, “Who is really mad?”
There's something about reading children's books. It's like returning home and settling under the covers at the end of the day, knowing you're safe and protected. Maybe that's the reason why children's stories are able to reach such a wide audience.
(Oh, and on a sidenote, if you were wondering what happened to my New Year resolution to become a vegetarian, here's an update: I've been eating meat everyday since I wrote that resolution down. I keep telling myself every time I slip that tomorrow, tomorrow I'll become a vegetarian. But maybe it's just not in my blood to become one. I love meat too much. I'm sorry, Earth and the animals.)
Now, back to books. If anyone knows of books with madness and romance in them, please recommend them to me. I'm dying for something with this combination. I borrowed Steppenwolf (by Hermann Hesse), and I don't know, maybe I was expecting something else, something more dramatic. But the alienated Steppenwolf is shaping up to be simply a misanthropic loner who despises bourgeoise society, not some broken, murderous man looking for love and salvation.
There's this book called Shadows, however, by Joan de la Haye, as recommended by Marcia Colette, writer. Here's the blurb:
Sarah is forced to the edge of sanity by the ghosts of her family’s past. Suffering from violent and bloody hallucinations, she seeks the help of psychiatrist and friend, Michael Brink.
After being sent to an institution in a catatonic state covered in blood – from stabbing her unfaithful boyfriend – Sarah is forced to confront the truth about her father’s death and the demon, Jack, who caused her father’s suicide and who is now the reason for her horrific hallucinations. Unlike her father, Sarah refuses to kill herself. She bargains for her life and succeeds.
In Sarah’s struggle to regain her life and her sanity, she discovers there is more to the world than she could ever have imagined, and it leaves her seeking the answer to the nagging question, “Who is really mad?”
That, honey, is what I'm looking for. I think all of us are a little crazy. It's only whether we're willing to explore that side of ourselves. I mean, who's to say what I think is crazy isn't just someone else's version of what's normal, right? The thing about those we deem as madmen is that they are able to justify their thoughts, their actions. They are the heroes of their worlds, as we are of ours. So don't you think it's fascinating to understand what's going through their minds as they go about their 'crazy' lives? If I were proficient enough, I'd definitely write a novel with a misunderstood character.
But I shan't end on such a grim note. Here's a great picture to end this post!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I'm working on my New Year's Resolution now. I don't usually put much stock in it, because I end up breaking every one on the list anyway. But this time, I will become a vegetarian.
I know. It's laughable. Me, a vegetarian? I can't go a day without meat. But eating less meat brings about two benefits:
a) Less demand for meat - although this is rather insignificant, because I'm just one person. But if everyone ate less meat, less land needs to be cleared to rear cattle or other animals that provide meat. That means less forested areas need to be cleared. That means more trees and more wildlife!
b) Meat contains lots of carcinogens, which increases one's risk of getting cancer. Enough said.
So, yes. Vegetarian. I'll still eat fish and all that, of course. But no more chicken or pork or mutton or duck (I don't eat beef).
Anyway, I had a desperate desire to go to the Marina South Pier yesterday, so I dragged my butt all the way there. Had to take two buses to get there, one of which made me wait for half an hour. But I was dying for some sea air. Plus, it would be good inspiration for my work-in-progress, Red December Skies. I'm at page 120 now, still as excited about it as when I first started it. That feeling so reminds me of working on When the Lilies Turn Orange.
Just finished rewatching Mars yesterday. Am feeling empty now, because there are no other dramas that can match up to it. It's like reading a really good book, one of the best, and then not being able to find another that can quite match up to it. Ugh. Don't like this feeling. Can anyone recommend any other drama or book that has madness and romance in it? See why my first standalone novel (Lilies) is about madness and romance? There's not enough of such stories, which is why I'm writing them, if only to satisfy my own craving.
I know. It's laughable. Me, a vegetarian? I can't go a day without meat. But eating less meat brings about two benefits:
a) Less demand for meat - although this is rather insignificant, because I'm just one person. But if everyone ate less meat, less land needs to be cleared to rear cattle or other animals that provide meat. That means less forested areas need to be cleared. That means more trees and more wildlife!
b) Meat contains lots of carcinogens, which increases one's risk of getting cancer. Enough said.
So, yes. Vegetarian. I'll still eat fish and all that, of course. But no more chicken or pork or mutton or duck (I don't eat beef).
Anyway, I had a desperate desire to go to the Marina South Pier yesterday, so I dragged my butt all the way there. Had to take two buses to get there, one of which made me wait for half an hour. But I was dying for some sea air. Plus, it would be good inspiration for my work-in-progress, Red December Skies. I'm at page 120 now, still as excited about it as when I first started it. That feeling so reminds me of working on When the Lilies Turn Orange.
Just finished rewatching Mars yesterday. Am feeling empty now, because there are no other dramas that can match up to it. It's like reading a really good book, one of the best, and then not being able to find another that can quite match up to it. Ugh. Don't like this feeling. Can anyone recommend any other drama or book that has madness and romance in it? See why my first standalone novel (Lilies) is about madness and romance? There's not enough of such stories, which is why I'm writing them, if only to satisfy my own craving.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
I'm thinking of taking EN2271 as one of my modules next semester -Introduction to Playwriting. The thing is, it would clash with another module I want to take, EL3245: Media, Discourse and Society. Moreover, I'm not very sure if I want to take this as one of my Unrestricted Electives. We're supposed to take 7 of them, as per the requirements of the University. So there are other modules like Introduction to Creative Writing and Introduction to Prose Writing, that I want to take as well, but they're not offered this coming semester. So should I tak EL3254?
Anyway, application for the module is exclusive. Online bidding is not enough. They want us to write three scenes (no longer than one page each) based on three words: Abdication, Vindication and Restitution. On top of that, attach a sample of another type of work, a short story or essay or sorts. Here's my attempt at Vindication.
There had never been any question about it. It was her fault. And for that, she was bound to him forever. Or at least, until she could assuage the guilt or until he forgave her, set her free. But the bonds were too tight; she could barely hope that they would ever snap.
“It’s your fault, Audrey.” He never let her forget that. “If only you hadn’t been there…”
He was drunk again. She remembered the last time he let his brain get addled with alcohol, and shuddered.
“Have you ever thought of getting a job, Ryan?” She had to approach gently. He was too volatile these days.
“A job?” He barked a laugh. “What can a cripple like me work as?”
“You aren’t crippled. You just can’t play anymore.”
He turned to her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “And whose fault is it that I had to give up the piano? And now you’re finding me a nuisance? Am I in your way, Audrey? Am I robbing you of a life?”
“No.” She took his hands. “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t –”
“I was meant to do great things, be world-famous.” A hazy glimmer settled in his faraway gaze.
When she noticed the hardening of his jaw, it was too late. He had grabbed hold of her. She braced herself for the incoming tide. But instead of hitting her, he took her face and pressed his lips against hers. The smell of alcohol made her gag, but she tried not to struggle.
It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon.
But his hands were running all over her now. He gripped her more tightly when she writhed. Her breathing was labored now, as the panic that spread from within her became a blanket of goosebumps. Her skin crawled wherever his hands and lips roamed.
“It’s your fault, Audrey.”
“Please stop. Please.”
“But don’t you see? It’s your fault.” His voice was muffled against her skin.
She imagined herself engulfed by the toxic cloud of guilt, the one that numbed her senses so that she was unable to bring herself to leave him. She choked on it, reveled in it.
Later, she would tell herself it was that cloud of guilt that made her grab his hair and swing his head against the edge of the coffee table. It was that cloud of guilt that made her deaf to the crack of his skull, blind to the crimson river that poured out of him, stained his face.
Right then, she stared down at him, her bloody angel, whom she once loved. She could think of nothing apart from the music he played, a hushed melody that she feared to forget.
Yes, I know. I felt a bit disturbed when I was writing it too. A sort of sinister sadism, or should I say masochism.
On a lighter note, I'm re-watching Meteor Garden. Falling in love with Lei all over again (and of course, Jerry - he slays me, he really does). Did I mention? He's my muse for Patches of Blue Sky. The silent, beautiful boy you feel so protective of you actually ache for him. Oh, Lei. I really think Vic is the perfect choice for the character. Like Jerry said, he looks like he walked out of the manga (Meteor Garden was based on the Japanese manga, Hana Yori Dango). I won't describe him because no words can describe the beauty of the broken, tender-hearted character. But I'm enjoying writing Patches of Blue Sky (change title asap!) because I can't stop swooning over the male lead, whom I've decided to name Jerry *wink*
Anyway, application for the module is exclusive. Online bidding is not enough. They want us to write three scenes (no longer than one page each) based on three words: Abdication, Vindication and Restitution. On top of that, attach a sample of another type of work, a short story or essay or sorts. Here's my attempt at Vindication.
There had never been any question about it. It was her fault. And for that, she was bound to him forever. Or at least, until she could assuage the guilt or until he forgave her, set her free. But the bonds were too tight; she could barely hope that they would ever snap.
“It’s your fault, Audrey.” He never let her forget that. “If only you hadn’t been there…”
He was drunk again. She remembered the last time he let his brain get addled with alcohol, and shuddered.
“Have you ever thought of getting a job, Ryan?” She had to approach gently. He was too volatile these days.
“A job?” He barked a laugh. “What can a cripple like me work as?”
“You aren’t crippled. You just can’t play anymore.”
He turned to her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “And whose fault is it that I had to give up the piano? And now you’re finding me a nuisance? Am I in your way, Audrey? Am I robbing you of a life?”
“No.” She took his hands. “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t –”
“I was meant to do great things, be world-famous.” A hazy glimmer settled in his faraway gaze.
When she noticed the hardening of his jaw, it was too late. He had grabbed hold of her. She braced herself for the incoming tide. But instead of hitting her, he took her face and pressed his lips against hers. The smell of alcohol made her gag, but she tried not to struggle.
It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon.
But his hands were running all over her now. He gripped her more tightly when she writhed. Her breathing was labored now, as the panic that spread from within her became a blanket of goosebumps. Her skin crawled wherever his hands and lips roamed.
“It’s your fault, Audrey.”
“Please stop. Please.”
“But don’t you see? It’s your fault.” His voice was muffled against her skin.
She imagined herself engulfed by the toxic cloud of guilt, the one that numbed her senses so that she was unable to bring herself to leave him. She choked on it, reveled in it.
Later, she would tell herself it was that cloud of guilt that made her grab his hair and swing his head against the edge of the coffee table. It was that cloud of guilt that made her deaf to the crack of his skull, blind to the crimson river that poured out of him, stained his face.
Right then, she stared down at him, her bloody angel, whom she once loved. She could think of nothing apart from the music he played, a hushed melody that she feared to forget.
Yes, I know. I felt a bit disturbed when I was writing it too. A sort of sinister sadism, or should I say masochism.
On a lighter note, I'm re-watching Meteor Garden. Falling in love with Lei all over again (and of course, Jerry - he slays me, he really does). Did I mention? He's my muse for Patches of Blue Sky. The silent, beautiful boy you feel so protective of you actually ache for him. Oh, Lei. I really think Vic is the perfect choice for the character. Like Jerry said, he looks like he walked out of the manga (Meteor Garden was based on the Japanese manga, Hana Yori Dango). I won't describe him because no words can describe the beauty of the broken, tender-hearted character. But I'm enjoying writing Patches of Blue Sky (change title asap!) because I can't stop swooning over the male lead, whom I've decided to name Jerry *wink*
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