I'm not here anymore

A curious feeling, an absolute lethargy has crept over me. This is how I feel

The Sun and The Song

It's been awhile, so forgive me my trespasses, and read this poem that quickly degenerates in more than one way...

The Paper Princess

Once upon a time, there was the Paper King. He had a sheaf of daughters, all very pretty and white. He had so many of them that he just named them One, Two, Three, and so on. His favourite was the youngest, whom he called Theend.

Read full story here.

I like this guy...

His name is Gael Garcia Bernal.

I've seen four of his movies, viz., "Amores Perros", "Y Tu Mama Tambien", "Bad Education" and "The Motorcycle Diaries", and I think he's extremely talented.

In "The Motorcycle Diaries", there are some scenes of him on a boat. It reminded me so much of Satyajit Ray for some reason, and a thought crossed my mind - how wonderful it would have been if they had done a movie together! Bernal looks like Ray material to me.

What I like best about him is that he seems so malleable - he seems able to morph himself into the character so well. He's also got that strange combination of intensity and vulnerability.

I hope to see many more of his movies.

Book Review: The Line of Beauty

To be honest, when I first began reading The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst, I found it a bit difficult to embrace.

I had picked up the book mainly because I had read an article regarding the Booker prize contenders, and how very close the competition had been.

I was determined to give it another go only because I cannot bear to leave any book half-read. And when I turned the last page yesterday, it was with a sense of reluctant relinquishment that I put down the book.

The story is about young gay Nick Guest, who moves into the home of his Oxford classmate and crush, Toby Fedden, whose father Gerald is an ambitious Tory MP, with lovely wife Rachel, and manic-depressive daughter Catherine.

Nick slips easily into the indolent and luxurious life of the rich and famous: he loves the beautiful things life has to offer, he snorts coke, he loses his virginity to a black council worker he picks up from the classifieds; he finds himself a wealthy lover of Lebanese origin, with whom he attempts a foray into publishing and films. The backdrop of Tory conservatism, AIDS, and the scandals that break out inevitably provide a rich foil to his story.

What makes this book so eminently readable is the superbly cool elegance of the prose. It is almost languorous and makes you feel heady, like after a glass of wine. It is neither harsh nor maudlin; there are no rude jerks or sudden peaks; no flourishes or swaggers; it is gently undulating all the way. The phrases are crafted with the finesse of a master craftsman.

Consider
Perhaps being old friends didn't mean very much, they shared assumptions rather than lives.

or about a public telephone
So he had never breathed this terrible air, black plastic, dead piss, old smoke, the compound breath of the mouthpiece --

or about a pianist brought in for a recital
She had clearly been ferociously schooled, she was like those implacable little gymnasts who sprang out from behind the Iron Curtain, curling and vaulting along the keyboard.

Practically every page in the book is strewn with such gems, and it is richly rewarding to read this book at a leisurely pace, and it becomes almost mandatory to stop and admire every once in a while.

Some may find the gay stuff a little awkward. It was the first time I'd read such a book, and I felt it was treated most naturally, and I didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable.

I'd definitely recommend reading this if you love stylish prose.