Winner of The Gendarme
20 minutes ago
This week, first I was in France, spending my summer vacation in a lovely cottage by the sea with my father and his latest companion. (Bonjour Tristesse by Françoise Sagan)
I was happy, but bewildered. I was used to hearing the word love bandied about, and I had often mentioned it rather crudely as one does when one is young and ignorant, but now I felt I could never talk of it again in that detached and vulgar way.

I've mentioned before that I'm trying not to join in many challenges that require me to read a lot of books, like more than six, as I often don't do very well with them. But there are a couple of exceptions, and this is one of them. I love the idea of this challenge because reading more international literature is something that I always hope to do more of anyway. So, I'm going to join in the Orbis Terrarum Challenge again this year. It runs from March 1st to December 31st, 2009 and the goal of the challenge is essentially to read 10 books by 10 different authors, from 10 different countries.
There are also several mini-challenges to accompany the main reading challenge. Since I love foreign films I'm going to try to complete the Orbis Terrarum Film Mini-Challenge, which asks us to watch 10 films from 10 different countries by 10 different directors. I'm not sure how successful I'll be since the only way for me to see foreign films here is to buy the DVDs (Japanese subtitles aren't much help to me!), but I do already have a fair handful so I'm going to give it a shot.
by Kazuo IshiguroIt is 1948. Japan is rebuilding her cities after the calamity of World War II, her people putting defeat behind them and looking to the future. The celebrated painter Masuji Ono fills his days attending to his garden, his house repairs, his two grown daughters and his grandson, and his evenings drinking with old associates in quiet lantern-lit bars. His should be a tranquil retirement. But as his memories continually return to the past – to a life and a career deeply touched by the rise of Japanese militarism – a dark shadow begins to grow over his serenity.I like how one reviewer on Amazon called it a 'fascinating Japanese parallel to "The Remains of the Day"' because I was also reminded of The Remains of the Day while reading it. Granted, I’ve actually only read these two books by Ishiguro, so far, but I did think they had a similar feel to them, a similar coming to terms with the past. Whereas the one is quintessentially British, however, An Artist of the Floating World had a distinctly Japanese feel to it. I’m hardly an expert, having only read a few titles, but like some of the Japanese literature I have read, this was also a beautifully-written, subtle story, calm on the surface but with emotion bubbling beneath.
‘I have learnt many things over these past years. I have learnt much in contemplating the world of pleasure, and recognizing its fragile beauty. But I now feel it is time for me to progress to other things. Sensei, it is my belief that in such troubled times as these, artists must learn to value something more tangible than those pleasurable things that disappear with the morning light. It is not necessary that artists always occupy a decadent and enclosed world. My conscience, Sensei, tells me I cannot remain forever an artist of the floating world.’Conversation with Kazuo Ishiguro and Kenzaburo Oe



Since it's the last Sunday of the month, I guess it's time for my second reading retrospective. I started last month, by looking back at what I read in January 2002, the year that I started keeping track of the books I read. So returning today to the 2002 tab of my reading spreadsheet, I see that I only read two books in February. This probably isn't terribly surprising since it was near the end of February 2002 that we moved half-way around the world, from Japan to England.
This week I've been in an unidentified city in Japan, as it recovers from WWII. I was reminiscing about my early years as an artist and how the country has changed since the war. The younger generation has a different view of things now and sometimes my daughters and I didn't see eye to eye, but overall I've had a good life.
On three or four evenings a week I still find myself taking that path down to the river and the little wooden bridge still known to some who lived here before the war as 'the Bridge of Hesitation'. We called it that because until not so long ago, crossing it would have taken you into our pleasure district, and conscience-troubled men - so it was said - were to be seen hovering there, caught between seeking an evening's entertainment and returning home to their wives.
by Truman CapoteIt’s New York in the 1940s, where the martinis flow from cocktail hour till breakfast at Tiffany’s. And nice girls don’t, except, of course, Holly Golighty. Pursued by Mafia gangsters and playboy millionaires, Holly is a fragile eyeful of tawny hair and turned-up nose, a heart-breaker, a perplexer, a traveller, a tease. She is irrepressibly ‘top banana in the shock department’, and one of the shining flowers of American fiction.I’d read two other books by Capote before this one. In Cold Blood, which I thought was ok, but looking at it through modern eyes, just didn’t seem terribly shocking. Then last year I read Other Voices, Other Rooms, which I really didn’t care for. It started out well but completely lost me by the end. After Other Voices, Other Rooms I wondered if Capote just wasn’t for me. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is on the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die List though so I thought I’d give it a try and ended up thoroughly enjoying it. What a great character Holly is, flirtatious, flighty, charming, vulnerable, capricious Holly! I haven’t seen the film yet, but Audrey Hepburn certainly helped turn her into a lasting, iconic character, and I’m glad to have finally ‘met’ her through the pages of the book. All in all it was a very fun read and proof that sometimes it’s worth trying an author again.
This edition also contains three stories: ‘House of Flowers’, ‘A Diamond Guitar’ and ‘A Christmas Memory’.
I knew damn well I’d never be a movie star. It’s too hard; and if you’re intelligent, it’s too embarrassing. My complexes aren’t inferior enough: being a movie star and having a big fat ego are supposed to go hand-in-hand; actually, it’s essential not to have any ego at all. I don’t mean I’d mind being rich and famous. That’s very much on my schedule, and some day I’ll try to get around to it; but if it happens, I’d like to have my ego tagging along. I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany’s.Along with Breakfast at Tiffany’s, this edition also contained three short stories, which I fully enjoyed as well. They were each quite different but I found each of them to be engaging glimpses into human nature. So it seems that Capote has finally won me over and I’ll be less hesitant to read something else by him in the future.



Captain Gault had seen off the three intruders easily enough. They had come in the night with the intention of firing the house, but a single shot had sent them scuttling back into the darkness. One, though, had been wounded and for that the Gaults were not forgiven: sooner or later there would be trouble again. Other big-house families had been driven out – the Morells from Clashmore, the Gouvernets, the Priors, the Swifts. It was time to go too.Well, I have to say I had a hard time buying into the basic premise of this story, which kept me from fully believing it. I realize the story was set in the 1920s when things were quite different in terms of how we could communicate, no cell phones or email for starters, but I had a hard time getting past it and some of the characters' behaviour. Sorry, I know I’m being a bit vague here but to explain clearly would be a rather large spoiler. I don’t regret reading it though for otherwise it was beautifully written, with lovely descriptions of the Irish countryside and seashore where Lucy often liked to walk. We never made it to Ireland when we were living in England, but reading this made me wish again that we had.
But Lucy, soon to be nine, the only child of the household, could not bear the thought of leaving Lahardane. Her world was the old house itself, the woods of the glen, the farm animals, the walk along the seashore to school. All of that she loved and as the day of departure grew closer she determined that this exile should not take place. But chance changed everything, bringing about a calamity so terrible that it might have been a punishment, so vicious that it blighted the lives of all the Gaults for many years to come.
Readers must judge for themselves whether it is the weakness or the strength of this finely crafted novel that Trevor does not flinch: while scattering some crumbs of comfort, he offers resignation rather than redemption, leaving us with a palpable sense of sadness for wasted lives and lost opportunities.I originally picked this up because it was shortlisted for the Booker Prize, and read it now because it was on the original 1001 Books to Read Before You Die List, but I think that this novel was perhaps not the best introduction for me to Trevor’s work. Reviews for it seem quite mixed, although some love it so don’t let my rather negative review put you off. However, even the author apparently considers himself primarily a writer of short stories who occasionally writes novels, so I think I’d like to try some of his stories next time around.
‘D’you know how many books there are at Lahardane?’Listen to an interview with the author from BBC Radio 3.
‘No.’
‘There are four thousand and twenty-seven. So old, some of them, they’re falling to bits. Others have never been opened. Do you know how many I’ve read? Can you guess?’
Ralph shook his head.
‘Five hundred and twelve. Last night, for the second time, I finished Vanity Fair.’
‘I haven’t read it even once.’
‘It’s very good.’
‘I’ll read it one of these days.’
‘It has taken me years to read all those books. I began when I left school.’
[ … ]
‘Do you think it strange that I counted the books?’
‘No, not at all.’
He imagined her counting, a finger passing from spine to spine along a bookshelf, and then beginning again on the shelf below. When he’d come the last time he hadn’t been invited into the house. He wondered if today he’d see the rooms, and hoped he would.



Two books that I'd ordered from The Book Depository arrived in the mail for me last week. (BTW, have you seen their new "Watch People Shop" feature on the main page? It's kind of amusing.)
I finished reading Breakfast at Tiffany's this week, as well as the three short stories that were included in the book. Like I had already begun to suspect last week, it's definitely my favourite of the three books I've now read by Capote. The other two were In Cold Blood, which I thought was ok but not earth-shattering, and Other Voices, Other Rooms, which I didn't care for. After Other Voices, Other Rooms I wondered if Capote just wasn't for me so I'm really glad that I enjoyed Breakfast at Tiffany's as much as I did. Isn't it a great feeling to be pleasantly surprised by a book you weren't sure you'd like? 
Also a big thank you to Karen of Book Bath for bestowing on me the Premio Dardas award! She had this to say: "I love this blog for it's beautiful content and presentation." Thank you so much, Karen!
It's been quite some time since I've joined in Weekly Geeks, and not since Dewey was still running it :(. It's not that I don't want to but I just never seem to get around to the weekly theme or task before the next week's is already up. I think Bi-Weekly Geeks would suit me better! LOL. But I think I've made it in time this week and it's a fun one.
Cats feature prominently in the covers of Kafka on the Shore which isn't too much of a surprise. I think my favourite of these is the German one (3rd row, middle) because I love the colour and the close-up photo of the cat's eye, or the Arabic one to the left here, as it's such a pretty silhouette and as well as portraying the significance of cats to the story, it also includes an image of the shore which features in both the title and the story.