Books June to November

17. Naked, David Sedaris. Signed by the author during his Manila visit last July. Actually, he didn't sign sign it--he drew me a Jollibee burger "stick." It also sports quite a good dental impression of a rat on its spine. Good read, made me survive during that long stormy weekend. But I find his other works funnier.

18. The Granta Book of Family. Reportage, nonfiction and some stories about how dysfunctional everybody's families are. It seems that people are more hung up on lost fathers than they are on other members of their families.

19. Lew Hunter's Screenwriting 434. Lew Hunter sounds a lot like Chuck Palahniuk. Where Chuck (close kami, yakkers) tells you that you're not a unique snowflake, Hunter tells you, "You are not beautiful. You are ugly, misshapen and not dissimilar to a swamp frog." Meron din siyang moments ng "The first rule of 434 is..." Turns out this is more manual than introspection about craft, which is what I really need right now, goddammit.

20. Pierre Bourdieu on Television and Journalism. Slim volume, finished sometime in June or July. Bourdieu somehow sees television as a threat to all other cultural productions--his words, and here I hesitate to call them "art forms." Mostly there is this fear that people have this strong need to be entertained, and even politics have to be this.

21. Girl Goddess #9, Francesca Lia Block. Talked about previously here.

22. Dreaming in Cuban, Cristina Garcia. Read ages ago, perhaps around the beginning of the school year when I was still convinced I could finish the novel for grad class. Seemed deceptively plotless, but in reality it must have been intricately woven by the writer. Three generations of Cuban/Cuban-American women, lots of magical realist things happening. Reminded me a lot of Julia Alvarez.

23. The Vintage Book of International Lesbian Fiction, Eds. Naomi Holoch and Joan Nestle. Read upon the suggestion of some people, when I was also deceptively convinced that I would finish my fiction class. Very heavy reading. The only thing which amused me was a story by Trinidad-born Dionne Brand called "Madame Ailard's Breasts."

24. 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed, Melissa Panarello. I received this book as a gift in the middle of paper checking season. So after the onslaught of stories about maturity/loves lost and gained after a semester in the university, I would retreat into this book before bed. It's a slim volume--around 160 pages all in all--and I finished most of it in 2 sittings. When I had 20 pages left, I resolved to finish it on the train on my way to school to submit grades. I finished 18. I had to take damn book with me all the way to the mountains and read it between pit stops. There weren't many. What's interesting with this one is that it's been tagged as a "fictionalized memoir." Just how much of this was fictionalized, I wonder.

25. Maus I: My Father Bleeds History/A Survivor's Tale, Art Spiegelman. This is the 2nd Spiegelman book I read after his two towers book. Started browsing it on the train home, didn't put it down until after midnight and I had to sleep because I had a grad class the following morning. Relatively pricey book I got this from the book stall along AS Walk. I don't really mind as it's one of the best reads I've had in a while and now I'm kicking myself because I didn't notice this is just half of the story. I've gone to several bookstores and they all don't have copies of the thing. Nyar.

It's already November and I realize I'm way behind with the book count. Unless I drop everything I'm doing right now, there's no way I can make the 50 book deadline. Come to think of it, I'd want to do that. But right now I don't have much time for leisurely reading. I've got a stack specifically for studying and for school stuff. But there's also a pile I want to read for myself. Can't wait to finish The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, which I began reading before Maus, but it's just too hectic right now. Oh well.