New Year Resolution
As if to make up for my slacking in writing, I have been keeping up with my reading, almost with one book after another, eager to explore the wonderful minds of the great authors, defying the Chinese saying that "it's better to walk ten thousand miles than read ten thousand scrolls of books" - it's surely even better to do both.
Again, I prowed through masterpieces by familiar names, Amy Tan, Wilbur Smith, Salman Rushdie and, to my delightful surprise, found renowned classics at odd places. First I came across James Joyce's Ulysses in a large bookstore in Bangkok's chic Siam Square and, rather sure of myself, bought a version with an introduction by Jeri Johnson. In so doing, I was fully aware of the challenge it would pose to my literature depth to read it. But this widely acclaimed piece of classic work, which is supposed to have been the source of influence on the works of many renowned contemporary writers, is too tempting to leave it on the bookshelve untouched. After all, it only costed 250 Baht.
The fact that it proves to be way beyond me to comprehend, after I have dived in for no more than 25 pages (of the 980 pages' book), does not disappoint me a great deal, just a little. On the contrary, it amazes me with the amount of attention accorded from the world of scholars over the century for some work so hardly understood. There were books written about the book. I couldn't help but imagine perhaps it is simply the first of its kind, like Beatles in the rock scene, which makes it great.
I feel even more vindicated (of my inability to read Ulysses) when I came across Candide of Voltaire at a small bookstore in the freshly opened airport terminal at Surubaya, among the last places I would expect to find English classics. But there I found it, surprised at its little size, a pocket book of only 104 pages, immediately got on with it, and even surprised at its ease of language. My vindication, however, does not rest on this classics' user-friendliness, but on what senator Pococurante said "Fools have a habit of believing everything written by a famous author is admirable."
With that, I find reassurance, though which I don't really need, and keep on devouring the books of my own choice. This is not a bad feeling at all to end the year. Indeed after another year of tumultous happenings, I have found peace, the simple yet fulfilling peace of appreciating one's own place in the world and treasuring one's own family.
So my wish for 2007 is simple, as it will be for all the years to come in my life, that sickness will stay away from us and health be always with us, that we shall all find our way to be at ease with ourselves and with others and abide by the resolution and, that we shall find prosperity. Of course I want to be rich.
Again, I prowed through masterpieces by familiar names, Amy Tan, Wilbur Smith, Salman Rushdie and, to my delightful surprise, found renowned classics at odd places. First I came across James Joyce's Ulysses in a large bookstore in Bangkok's chic Siam Square and, rather sure of myself, bought a version with an introduction by Jeri Johnson. In so doing, I was fully aware of the challenge it would pose to my literature depth to read it. But this widely acclaimed piece of classic work, which is supposed to have been the source of influence on the works of many renowned contemporary writers, is too tempting to leave it on the bookshelve untouched. After all, it only costed 250 Baht.
The fact that it proves to be way beyond me to comprehend, after I have dived in for no more than 25 pages (of the 980 pages' book), does not disappoint me a great deal, just a little. On the contrary, it amazes me with the amount of attention accorded from the world of scholars over the century for some work so hardly understood. There were books written about the book. I couldn't help but imagine perhaps it is simply the first of its kind, like Beatles in the rock scene, which makes it great.
I feel even more vindicated (of my inability to read Ulysses) when I came across Candide of Voltaire at a small bookstore in the freshly opened airport terminal at Surubaya, among the last places I would expect to find English classics. But there I found it, surprised at its little size, a pocket book of only 104 pages, immediately got on with it, and even surprised at its ease of language. My vindication, however, does not rest on this classics' user-friendliness, but on what senator Pococurante said "Fools have a habit of believing everything written by a famous author is admirable."
With that, I find reassurance, though which I don't really need, and keep on devouring the books of my own choice. This is not a bad feeling at all to end the year. Indeed after another year of tumultous happenings, I have found peace, the simple yet fulfilling peace of appreciating one's own place in the world and treasuring one's own family.
So my wish for 2007 is simple, as it will be for all the years to come in my life, that sickness will stay away from us and health be always with us, that we shall all find our way to be at ease with ourselves and with others and abide by the resolution and, that we shall find prosperity. Of course I want to be rich.
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