In the Japanese Drama Beautiful Life, Kyoko remarked in a sarcastic put-down to Shuji that more and more working-age adults could be found browsing in the library she worked in during office hours due to the recent widespread retrenchment in Japan. That was the thought that came to my mind as I hunted for a seat in Borders on a Monday afternoon to read Nick Hornby's acclaimed The Polysyllabic Spree, a collection of his monthly "Stuff I've Been Reading" columns in The Believer. Think literary reviews made hip and sexy.

I've never been a Hornby fan; never read any of his books in fact. Which is a bit of an oddity for a "die-hard football fan" (so it says in one of my Friendster testimonials) who considers books to be his only vice. Hornby's first novel, you see, is Fever Pitch, a groundbreaking book back in 1997 for marrying football to popular literature. I did watch the movie (tagline: Life gets complicated when you love one woman and worship eleven men) when it was released though, if it helps to add any credibility.

Since Fever Pitch, Hornby has published five other novels, so there's no excuse on my part for not reading any. Incidentally, my best friend always assumes that I watched the movie adaptation of About a Boy because (a) he did; (b) the male lead is Hugh Grant; and (c) I am a Hugh Grant fan. So on our infrequent karaoke jaunts, he'd select the theme song from About a Boy and expect me to sing along. And each time I have to disappoint him, and possibly also Hugh Grant. Or even Nick Hornby. Hell, I don't even remember the name of the song. I'd hum along if I knew how to.

Anyway since the success of Fever Pitch, the "suffering-football-fan-writing-about-his-unremarkable-life" genre has been done to death by hundreds of pretenders; as no doubt The Polysyllabic Spree will spawn a new generation of unqualified and over-zealous literary critics. Amen to that *rme*

At SG$32 a copy, part of me feels glad that I'm too cheap to buy The Polysyllabic Spree though it was a largely enjoyable read in a three-hour sitting. Like most books it has its ups and downs, and I guess the readability of the book boils down to the reader's personal taste. Only football fans will be able to appreciate the mention of Jose Antonio Reyes scoring a 30-yarder into the top corner of the net, for instance, while the apolitical will find themselves skimming through certain sections of the book.

Having said that, Hornby's love for books shines through in his columns and he provides value by covering a wide cross-section of literature from classics such as Charles Dicken's Great Expectations to modern popular literature (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time) and even self-help books for his smoking habit. With so many distractions to occupy our time nowadays (an issue addressed skilfully by Hornby in the book), reading has become a forgotten pleasure for many people. Hopefully this book will rekindle your love affair with books and help you to rediscover why you liked reading in the first place, a long, long time ago.

Tottochan: The Little Girl at the Window

Another good book I read in a bookstore but didn't buy was Tottochan: The Little Girl at the Window by Tetsuo Kuroyanagi. This title had previously been on Singapore's bestseller's list for quite some time, so while waiting for a friend after a miserable day at work, I picked up a copy of the book at MPH in Millenia Walk, admired the cover art, read the back cover, took a liking to the book, and started reading from the preface all the way to page 50 before I had to leave. It was that absorbing a read.

Set in pre-World War II Japan,Tottochan is an enchanting tale of how a curious little girl who was found to be too disruptive in a normal school enrolled in a unique school with train cars for classrooms. In that school there was no fixed curriculum, handicapped children were not segregated, and skinny-dipping in the swimming pool on unbearably hot summer days was the norm. Charming and simple; anyone who has ever ranted against the education system here or become disillusioned with society will undoubtedly enjoy the book.

At this point I may seem to poor writers struggling to make ends meet --- we all know that publishers fleece them dry --- what bootleg pirates are to the music industry, but the truth is that books are my only vice --- I spend an irrational amount of money on them from time to time. For instance I thought nothing of shelling out SG$29.40 for the hardcover edition of Mitch Alboin's The Five People You Meet in Heaven when it was first released as I couldn't wait for the paperback release. LKY's memoirs (the second book) was bought as a long-term read but I have yet to get past Chapter Two after almost a year (mostly because I'd plain forgotten about it; oh well at least I didn't call him a despot ;p). The book is currently lying in one of many plastic containers stacked in a corner of my room (more storage space than bookshleves) along with a whole load of unread books I bought at warehouse sales: Darwin's Ghost: The Origin of Species Updated; Celtic Myth and Legend Revised Edition; Essential Buddhism: A Complete Guide to Beliefs and Practices; and even The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, to name but a few.

Living to Tell the Tale

In general I find popular fiction overpriced, so I was understandably pleased to nick Gabriel Garcia Marquez's highly-anticipated Living to Tell the Tale for only SG$17.35. Marquez is a Nobel laureate but you've probably never heard of him. Nor did I, until I was introduced (not that I had a choice, mind) to his Nobel Prize-winning work One Hundred Years of Solitude in University. Through the book I was introduced to the genre of Magical Realism, and you either loved it or hated it. I loved it =)

Living to Tell the Tale is the first of an intented trilogy of Marquez's memoirs. Not everyone will appreciate his writing style --- some may get disorientated by the non-linear storyline or get confused by the many characters, and the discourse on Colombian politics can be alienating at times --- but if One Hundred Years of Solitude agrees with you, then you'll probably like this book as well. If you have read neither and are undecided as to which book to pick up, I suggest starting with One Hundred Years of Solitude first before sinking your teeth into Living to Tell the Tale simply because the former, a work of fiction, enhances your appreciation of the latter, a semi-fictitious autobiography.

Can an autobiography be semi-fictitious?

The beauty of Living to Tell the Tale is that it transcends categories --- it is mostly an autobiography, but the reality of Marquez's world also includes figments of his rich imagination. Hence he recounts nonchalantly of his blind grandmother singing in her room years after her death (a passing on apparently lost on young Marquez), and of vengeful ghosts haunting his great-grandfather. These early bizarre life experiences, among many others, would later be recreated in One Hundred Years of Solitude. These are just some of the insights readers of his earlier book are rewarded with. Indeed, Marquez is such an excellant writer that you actually envy him for being born into a madhouse.

An early lesson Marquez grasped in his budding career is that the reality of the writer's universe is limited only by his own imagination. He goes as far as to lament the extinction of Aladdin's flying carpet in today's world simply because people had stopped believing in them. Subtle lessons like this on his craft are littered all over the book, which makes it a highly recommended read for any budding writer.

I bought this book partly due to interest in Marquez's early struggles --- family objection, self-doubt, struggling to make ends meet --- to become a recognized writer. In the book he describes the profession as "the artistic vocation... to which one devotes one's entire life without expecting anything in return. It is something that one carries inside from the moment one is born, and opposing it is the worst thing for one's health. A priest's vocation must be like this." Those lines, I think, are worth the price of the book alone =)