The Madman: His Poems and Parables by Khalil Gibran

                                                      

First Line: You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen,-- the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives,--I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves."

Usually I'd post up a picture of the physical book on my bed, so you can judge the heck out of my bed sheets while judging the book cover (don't even deny it, I have the best bed sheets and you are in the throes of jealousy) unfortunately, I do not have a physical copy of this beauty and came across it one night in my e-book library.

This book is like Aesop tales, but for adults. Not that Aesop isn't for adults, but still--

The parables and the poems touch on the mundane to the highly probable feelings that people have and don't delve into unless they're high as a kite or if they've been drinking all night, staring out into the night, thunderstorm in the distance, etc.

And they're all in line with how callously we laypeople observe ourselves. The topics chosen for the parables and poems of the madman persona are on religion, philosophy, the futility of existence, the strangeness of man and his paradoxical nature, our many selves, loneliness and the cyclical manner of life, satire, etc. In short, all the fun stuff.

All these parables and poems are the types that take some digging and introspection. They're chockful of metaphors and personification of animals and nature, as conducted in the tradition of parables. A bit of 'mental masturbation', as a certain someone I know would put it.

A personal favourite of mine would be the parable of the Seven Selves. (Seven is a significant number in christianity, and Gibran uses this number quite a bit within this book.) It talks about the facets of the personality of the persona The Madman and how they all wish to rebel against him. The detachment of these Selves from the persona and how they're each given a sentience that allows them to express themselves is intriguing. Each self represents a recurring part of the persona, for instance, the Pained self, the Joyous self, the Love-ridden self, the Loathing self, and so on. Perhaps these routine selves/actions wish to break free of a cycle formed by the madman, alluding to the habitual nature of man.

Snow is clearly mad, because uh.. SEVEN MEN? Uh. HELLO? 

There's another parable called The Two Cages, where in one cage is a lion and in the other is a 'songless sparrow'. Both great and small are on equal terms because both are in cages, which explains why the sparrow says to the lion, "Good morrow to thee, brother prisoner".

All in all, the 35 parables and poems won't take long to read but each one will leave its imprint.

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: Lots.
Are there sexy times in it?: Nah. 
Are there dead people in it?: What is philosophy without the dead?
Is it lengthy?: Not at all. In fact it would probably take less than 20 minutes to read. Longer to digest though.

Reread?: Abso-fucking-lutely.

Judge the book by its cover: I wish I actually had a physical copy to be judgy about.
Rating: 4.8/5 meows.

Pun:  Aren't we all Khalil mad?

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

First line: May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month.

To end this year of book reviews, I thought this book would be appropriate. Never in my short life have I come across a novel that has affected me so deeply. It's thought-provoking, disgusting, depressing, fervently beautiful, and disruptive. How deep into the soul of a land can you unearth, to gently hold its bones and stare at unflinchingly as Roy has? There is no exaggeration in this statement when I say: Arundhati Roy is a literary genius. And this was her first foray into novel-writing, debuted in 1997. Her next novel, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness is expected to be published next year in June.

The God of Small Things takes us into the world of Rahel and Esthappen, fraternal twins born of Ammu, a Syrian Christian whose failed 'love marriage', sends them back to the abusive household of her parents. However, their lives is one dominated by the 'Love Laws' which dictate "who should be loved, and how. And how much." Their lives gradually intertwine with that of Velutha, an untouchable who has worked for the family since childhood. In the midst of it all is the rumblings of communism and themes of separation and reunion within a society segregated by caste in a post-colonial Kerala.

*hinting at extra special character qualities here

I kid you not, there was a section in this novel that had me put this book away for a week because the suffering of its characters became so intense and so... relatable. Being of Indian heritage myself, the discussion of caste is one that, while soft in conversation in Malaysia, is not completely disregarded But to actually look into the past, and to see how caste-dominance was played out in India, the vile notion of being treated like trash by virtue of your birth, is very real. And is in fact, still a big part of Indian culture today.

The God of Small Things speaks bravely about  the effects of the caste system on its followers, especially of those who are on the lowest rung of the ladder: Untouchables. Dalits. You're so much of nothing that you would have to crawl, close to wherever you went, with a broom tied to your back to sweep away your footsteps. Evidence of your existence swept away by your own hand. Can you imagine a life such as this? Can you think upon an existence wherein you are born to nothing and forced by culture to stay at nothing, even if you have massive potential to contribute to your environment in a big way? Being stripped of the ability to love another because of the colour of your skin and your social strata?

basically

Roy breaks down boundaries and destroys stereotypes, fearlessly shining a light on the plight of subalterns in Indian society. She also picks on the different ways interracial marriage is looked at and the double standard put in place when it involves...Certain races.

This novel is not set chronologically, so you reader have to put the pieces together, bit by bit. It can be irritating, the jumping, the descriptive passages and the use of  local Maliyali dialect littered within the novel, though I would argue it's to preserve the authenticity of the novel's background. There is good reason for the non-linear nature of the writing. At the end of the day, is it not the small things? The small pieces of sadness and the bits of joy, of what we take for granted, that make up the bigger picture of our lives? Are they not scattered across the continuum of our days? Furthermore, Roy was trained as an architect before she turned to activism and essays, therefore the structure of this novel could be said to be one that reflects her beginnings.

Read this book. Today. Next year. Naaley. Fucking hell, read this goddamn book if it's the last thing you do. It's hauntingly beautiful. You'll understand why it won the 1997 Man Booker prize.

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: Nah.
Are there sexy times in it?: Yush. 
Are there dead people in it?: Yep.
Is it lengthy?: It'll certainly take some time to digest.

Reread?: YES. Yes, yes, yes.

Judge the book by its cover: Could do with a better front cover.
Rating: 4.8/5 meows

Pun: What rahel esthappening 

The Beruas Prophecy by Iskandar Al-Bakri

First line: Balik Pulau 1823. Friday evening just after eight. Yaakob lives with his wife and three daughters in a village in the west of Penang Island.

Pendekar Melayu (Malay martial artists) tales written by contemporary authors are few and far in-between. Seriously, ask any Malaysian what comes to mind when they think of Malayan warriors. I guarantee, nine out of ten will either say: "Harr? Lu cho hami?" or "Hang Tuah/Hang Jebat." These answers will either be paired with said Malaysian furrowing their brows and scratching a sudden head itch, or them describing a wide variety of indiscernible features these old dead dudes might have had. Maybe make a few kung-fu noises because who knows, they could've sounded like Bruce Lee.

Best "Lu Cho Hami?" face.

At first, this book truly was a breath of fresh air. We are transported to the 1800s to watch the story unfold between British colonisers going up against Malay warriors, within the backdrop of Pre-independent Malaya. The novel is infused with local myths and legends, familiar and unfamiliar religious practices, swashbuckling pirates (when have they not been swashbuckling, really?), lots of bloodshed, black magic and warring secret societies all tied together by the ravenous hunt for the ancient treasure hoard of Malik Al-Mansur.

And then there's the stale air.

I recently had the opportunity to see the author in the flesh and watch him explain the inspiration behind his (first) novel and while some parts were enlightening, I will be frank:

Interesting concept! But God smite me down, it was terribly delivered. Pretty fucking choppy, too fast paced, too many characters with little to no development that appear and disappear seemingly without reason, too many 'main' characters, too many story arcs, and many more headache-inducing errors that made the read rather disjointed. The main reason why I leave the first line of each novel I review is to give readers a taste of what the book is like. This is exactly the writing style of The Beruas Prophecy. It is flat and simplistic, at best.

I'd hate for this post to become an attack on the author, especially since this was his first book and (god help us all he claimed he had never read a novel in his life) so I will shut up on that front. However if there is one good thing I must say about this book, it is:

History is our greatest liar. It has many faces. You make of it as you wish. As the old adage goes, "history is written by the winners," and when you read through this novel and compare it to Malaysian historical texts, you will see who the clear winners are. But again, history is a many-faced entity.

The cake. The cake is the winner. I'm kidding. I do like cake though, lying or not.

What I especially enjoyed about this novel is the mysticism and Silat martial art scenes as well as the fight sequences. If you're into voodoo and the like, you will enjoy the details meticulously pored into the black magic scenes because let's face it, the occult shit can get pretty exciting with the 'sacrifice-chicken-blood-summon-cursed-weapons-dance-around-the-fire-call-upon-ancient-spirits-curse-your-enemies-on-your-last-breath' routine. The author himself said the spells within the novel are all real. I scoffed of course. Nothing is real until you decide to make it so.

But to his credit, Al-Bakri is very precise in describing the silat moves as well as Malayan 19th century warfare. He provides the names for all the silat techniques within the book and you can even look them up if you want to get a better picture of the action. Unfortunately, no Bruce Lee noises.

All in all, I wasn't blown away. There were too many elements squashed within the 233 page novel, and not all of them were well developed. But I will give credit where it is due, he chose a fairly interesting topic to explore, and this novel was long-listed for The Commonwealth Book Prize in 2012 for the Best First Book category.

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: Do ancient spirit snakes count?
Are there sexy times in it?: Yawn. 
Are there dead people in it?: Yep. A lot of dying in this one.
Is it lengthy?: Nah. Probably will take a day or two at most.

Reread?: Fuck no.

Judge the book by its cover: I really like the cover. The shadow puppets are excellent cultural markers.
Rating: 2/5 meows

Pun: Some parts Iskandar creepy. Happy Halloween!

Siddartha by Herman Hesse

First line: In the shade of the house, in the sunshine near the boats on the riverbank, in the shade of the sal forest, in the shade of the fig tree, Siddartha grew up-- the beautiful son of the Brahmin, the young falcon, together with Govinda, his friend, the son of the Brahmin.

This is one of those books that really has a way of reminding you to keep things in perspective. Hesse uses language quite economically, but some phrases are an absolute joy to read. A piece rich in metaphors about what it truly means to find enlightenment and peace. Sure there are some parts about Buddhism (Buddha is fucking in this book, in case the name Siddartha didn't hint at it), but it's focus is on Siddartha, a young man of the Brahmin caste who decides to take his fate into his own hands in order to truly understand the meaning of life. The concepts of duality and forming one's identity play an integral part in building this novel. The immense amount of suffering he goes through in order to arrive at enlightenment is admirable, and while it contributes to him finally discovering his end goal, there is far more to the process than suffering. There is pleasure too.

Duality. Mind blowing stuff.

It's not all about spirituality, albeit a big part of it is. This novel is all about the journey one makes and how the end isn't one we'd always expect. One of Nietzsche's most famous quotes: "And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee" acutely reflects one of the sections in the novel where Siddartha, in his search to learn all knowledge, becomes what he truly abhors. The good thing however is that, when realisation hits, he is able to make the decision to move on, not that it comes easy anyway. Hesse tells a cautionary tale and provides optimistic solutions, all of which can be consumed over the course of a day. 

So while this book is philosophical in nature, it's also beautiful in its simplicity of delivery.

In its essence, it reminds us that there is much to learn from everyone and anyone, at any point in time, anywhere. Saint and sinner are student and teacher so long as they are willing to learn.

Sit your ass down and learn yourself some duality. No really. It's fascinating.

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: Dream bird and real live bird. Other than that, none of import.
Are there sexy times in it?: Oh yes. Nothing graphic though. Romantised.
Are there dead people in it?: Yep. What's a good novel without some death?
Is it lengthy?: Nope. It'll take a day or two at most to finish.

Reread?: Absolutely. Any time you feel a little lost, pick this baby up.

Judge the book by its cover: My copy is kinda boring but there are nicer ones out there.
Rating: 4.4/5 meows

Pun: This book just gets buddha and buddha

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

First line: "I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974."

Let me guess, your adolescence was awkward/bad/terrible/erase-this-part-of-my-life-it-never-even-happened. Sure it was messy but it'll never quite be on par with Cal(lie) Stephanides's. Unless you're a third-generation Greek immigrant who grew up in Detroit, Michigan. In the 80s. And you're intersex. And you only figure it out after an accident with a tractor. If you didn't go through any of those, you had it easy you ungrateful twit.

not as bad as a tractor

The novel begins with the protagonist telling us about his birth, but he goes way back to the start of it all in Bursa, Asia Minor, in the 1920s, with his grandparents. Buckle up, this book is one hell of a ride. If said ride was on a galapagos tortoise trying to get out of a giant bucket, filled with glitter glue.Yeah, this book takes a while to get through because of the immense amount of detail Jeffrey puts into it. When you write a book nine years in the making, you too would try to make the experience as immersive as possible. The protagonist talks about events way beyond his own birth, which led up to it so... as I was saying about that tortoise?

Drawing from his own cultural well, readers will learn quite a bit about Grecian culture, with a focus on the mythology (think minotaur), and how difficult the assimilation process is for refugees. And hey if you'd ever been interested in burlesques, you're in luck.

After his grandparents make it to America, the next stage of the novel follows Cal's parents and how they met, their childhoods, their whirlwind romance, the deteriorating marriage and all that comes in between before we step into the middlesex world of Cal. Born and identifying as female, Calliope becomes Cal when puberty decides to make everything weird. Imagine being raised as a girl, and then thinking maybe you were lesbian, or bisexual, and then along comes this tractor and suddenly you're not all girl and--remember what I said about being grateful?

Middlesex explores in great detail, the life of an intersexed individual in a time where people were really just starting to get to know their genitals and the diseases they were smothering onto each other. So, definitely, pants down, a great time to be alive. Flashbacks to the lives of his grandparents and parents serve to give substance to the current issues Cal faces as he grows into accepting his masculine gender identity. It's a beautiful but painful journey to go on, watching the vestiges of Cal's childhood confusions molt into an adulthood of learning to belong in his own skin. Eugenides constructs the modern day identity of his protagonist by taking into account the domino effect of an entire family history the protagonist himself only fully comprehends at the very end.

It can get draggy because it's incredibly descriptive, but certain readers would very much appreciate the imagery. The author thoroughly explains how the genetics, family history, and the experiences of straddling the sexual spectrum influence Cal's development into accepting his psychosexual identity.

Genetics. Interesting stuff.

It is an arduous journey because sexuality isn't easy to decipher anyway, so kudos to Eugenides for pouring so much effort into documenting the weird and wonderful lives of people with ambiguous genitalia and the challenges of accepting one's gender identity. The verbosity of this novel is arguable a physical manifestation of a 'coming-of-age' period, in four Pulitzer prize-winning parts.

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: Nah. 
Are there sexy times in it?: Yep, with a bit of incest in the mix. Did I just get your attention? 
Are there dead people in it?: Here and there
Is it lengthy?: This one might take a week to cover.

Reread?: No. Read it once and go slow. It's way too long to breeze through. 

Judge the book by its cover: Beautiful. Symbolic. Mythical.
Rating: 4.2/5 meows

Pun: This novel doesn't get straight to the point. 

Cain by José Saramago

First line: "When the Lord, also known as god, realized that adam and eve, although perfect in every outward aspect, could not utter a word or make even the most primitive of sounds, he must have felt annoyed with himself, for there was no one else in the garden of eden whom he could blame for this grave oversight, after all, the other animals, who were, like the two humans, the product of divine command, already had a voice of their own, be it a bellow, a roar, a croak, a chirp, a whistle or a cackle."

Translated into English by Margaret Jull Costa

Mr. Saramago hates the Old Testament. He wrote a novel about how much he hated it before he died.
He hates it so much he decided to reinterpret some scenarios realistically*, which made for some whimsical explanations behind why some biblical stories ended the way they did. If you're a Christian who's very merrily Christian = can't take a fucking joke, don't read this book.

Oh who am I kidding, just read it. An atheist wrote about God so expect fireworks.

Last I heard, he was cool with Jesus though

Our protagonist is that third guy on earth (according to Christian theology) to majorly fuck up--like father like son--and the first guy ever to murder his brother. All of which is cool, because let's face it, nobody has heard Cain's side of the story the way this author tells it. Every Christian ever has felt bad for Abel because he was murdered in good ol' cold-blooded jelly but with Cain in the limelight and pandering to common sense, it's hard not to like the kin-slayer.

*An example of a realistic reimagining of a biblical narrative would be this: Cain explains to the Almighty how it's the Almighty's act of playing favorites/hating on crops that caused him to commit manslaughter. To which God says: "Hmm. Very True." There's your teaser you lazy fart. 

I enjoyed how Saramago portrayed this supposed embodiment of evil. In the bible itself Cain's role is a minute yet prominent one, but in the novel we follow his journey through time, watching his wrath for God grow, and for good reason. The best part is that Cain, along with the other characters have been humanised by Saramago's efforts to depict the human condition: we are repulsive, narcissistic creatures, and we fuck up, but in rare wonderful moments, are capable of much sacrifice and good.

Great thing about Novel Cain, as opposed to Bible Cain, is that he isn't just doomed to wander the earth with a curse mark on his forehead, never to be seen or heard of again. He goes around foiling God's plans because God has some pretty questionable planning in the old testament if you ask me.

Didn't socialise for a millennium. Makes sense.

I would recommend brushing up on your bible knowledge to understand the novel, because it is satirical in nature. We'll see some household names like Abraham, Lilith, Noah and the like all fleshed out.

Cain is a parody of biblical proportions (pun absolutely intended), but with the class of a Nobel prize winner.

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: Yeah, but none too interesting
Are there sexy times in it?: Oh yes you perv, you count your blessings there are
Are there dead people in it?: Yes because God
Is it lengthy?: Short and sweet

Reread?: Aw yeah!

Judge the book by its cover: Suitable
Rating: 4/5 meows

Pun: Oh my God I just Cain't even

The Ocean at the End of the Lane By Neil Gaiman

First line: "It was only a duck pond out at the back of the farm."

This sucker will leave you with a want for your own magical soul-search. Lord knows we need one of those because we're all lost little shits trying to fit in but not really wanting to because deep down we're all 'special snowflakes', but you know you gotta make connections because that's the only way you survive but that takes money and you're broke as fuck and you still have to pay rent and the landlady is scary.

(By the way, Kung Fu Hustle is top notch.)

Also, you should pay your rent on time. Just sayin'.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane starts with a grown man indulging in the memories of his seven year old self. To a certain extent, it is autobiographical. Neil--I'd like to be on first name basis here--Ugh I wish we were friends!--uses a lot of his own experiences from his childhood and gives them a magical polish in this novel. You'd especially identify with the protagonist if you were the quiet, lonely kid with a penchant for a wild imagination.

And if you've read most of his books, you'll see a very familiar surname making an appearance: The Hempstocks. I'm not going to tell you where among his books they appear because you're on the fucking internet. In this novel they're the companions our unnamed protagonist remembers on his trip down memory lane. I'd hate to go into a literary discussion over why their names are present and his isn't, but I'll leave it at this: Who you are now is not the child you were then because your identity is subjected to the fabric of time and circumstance. What you will remember though, are the people who influenced that part of your life.

Compared to his other works (Sandman, Stardust, American Gods, etc.) this one takes a light-hearted tone, but it's not without its essential Gaiman-esque depth. Neil will write a book for a child realistically, in that it'll be inventive, colourful, and quirky but dark. Some parts of the novel are especially disturbing to adults because you realise the implications. Nonetheless, the novel is simultaneously childlike enough for a 12 year old to understand it, and poignant enough to leave a dent in the heart of the grumpiest adult. So yes, buy this for everyone and anyone who doesn't hate magic! Especially that asshole who needs a nostalgic whack upside the head.

The plot is fairly linear, it doesn't jump or leave you hanging, but you will have to piece some parts together to make sense of it all. The action sequences will have you page-turning like your thumbs are on fire, but there were some dips in my interest levels. You've definitely got to give this book a second read to fully grasp the innuendo and the creatures he uses as symbolism.

Its portrayal of childhood will have you drawing parallels with your own. You know, those days when every little thing was a fantastical adventure, and you had friends aplenty to share it with. Now you don't really have any friends and reheating cold coffee in the microwave is the most adventure you've had all week.

Overall, I'd recommend this book to anyone who wants a momentary fragment of their childhood back because let's be real here: Adulthood sucks.

Kaijus on the other hand...

tl;dr
Are there animals in the novel?: A kitten (the least complex thing I can describe it as) among others.
Are there sexy times in it?: A pinch. It's about childhood, you pervert.
Are there dead people in it?: Yes and no. It's a fantasy novel. Death is complicated.
Is it lengthy?: Nope. You could finish this baby in a day.
Reread?: Yes sir, yes sir three bags full.
Judge the book by its cover: I think it's meh, but you'll see why this image is used.
Rating: 3.8/5 meows.

Pun: I think I Neil-ed this first one!