Book Finds and Good Reads

  It was a chance encounter with a long-coveted title—Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood—that led me to Fully Booked at Gateway Mall. There, among the fiction and nonfiction, was Capote’s so-called “nonfiction novel,” a genre-defining work that continues to cast a long, chilling shadow over American letters.

Haruki Murakami’s 1988 novel Dance Dance Dance, was my very first foray into his peculiar world (on the recommendation of my former and late officemate named Fae), turned out to be a strange, fascinating initiation.

  In Lunar Park, Bret Easton Ellis turns the scalpel inward, dissecting not only his persona but the legacy of his fiction. The novel opens with the style of an autobiography, recounting his meteoric rise to literary stardom at the age of 23, following the publication of Less Than Zero. Hollywood came calling (the novel was adapted into a film starring Robert Downey Jr.), and Ellis was soon anointed a literary figurehead of the so-called Brat Pack, chronicler of the hollow glamour and nihilistic indulgence that marked the Reagan era. With American Psycho and Glamorama, he established a signature style drenched in sex, drugs, and a nihilism sharpened into satire.

  If On the Road was Jack Kerouac’s ecstatic hymn to youth, movement, and rebellion, then The Dharma Bums is its quieter, more contemplative sibling. Published in 1958, just a year after On the Road transformed Kerouac into a reluctant icon, The Dharma Bums trades the open highway for the high trails, the jazz-inflected chaos of cities for the peace of mountaintops.

  A magical, wicked story about Richard Mayhew, whose life is forever changed after he helps a bleeding girl on a London sidewalk. That single act pulls him into a reality far different from the world he thought he knew. Once again, Neil Gaiman vividly conjures a “world within a world” setting—strange, shadowy, and brimming with imagination. “The Marquis scratched the side of his nose. ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘understand this: there are two Londons. There’s London Above—that’s where you lived. And there’s London Below—the underside—inhabited by people who fell through the cracks in the world. Now you’re one of them.’” —Neverwhere Leaving behind the familiar streets of London Above, Richard embarks on a strange journey through London Below, meeting a colorful and unforgettable cast: the mysterious girl named Door; the enigmatic Marquis de Carabas; Hunter, a fierce bodyguard with a legendary reputation; talking rats; and a hilariously unhinged yet bloodthirsty pair of villains—Mr. Crou...

My book haul in India. Got these at around 200-350 Rupees (150-260 PhP). Would have bought more if I got extra space on my backpack. (the two fictional Theroux books were set in India) and the one from Rabindranath Tagore (whose former house - now turned into a museum, we visited in Kolkata) is a collection of short stories.  The opening chapter of "The Granta Book of India" titled "Blood" is a gripping account of the infamous "Partition" event between Pakistan and India. I've a lot to learn still and I regret not buying more India-related literature. "The Postmaster" - Rabindranath Tagore "A story of Mughal India" - Timeri N. Murari "The Great Railway Bazaar" - Paul Theroux "A Dead Hand in Calcutta" - Paul Theroux "The Granta Book of India" - Ian Jack "The Elephanta Suite" - Jack Kerouac

My book haul at the National Bookstore warehouse sale. I got all for just under 750 pesos.