Category: I FLIP PAGES

I liked Jane Eyre, the book. And I loved Jane Eyre, the character. She is feisty, strong-willed, but not proud. She is forthright, loathing of hypocrisy but not mean. She endures the abuse of her nasty relatives and the despicable Mr. Brocklehurst without playing the helpless victim. She is intelligent, independent, and astute in judging others’ characters. She is not the conventionally pretty heroine. To say that she is more beautiful inside than she is outside is not being trite.

I can only wish I have her strength of character; I believe the colloquial term now is EQ. It would be hard to be so enamored with Mr. Rochester and still have the moral fortitude to choose to do what is right. But I won’t spoil the story for you because if you haven’t read it yet and would want to read a classic, I recommend this one. It was a bestseller during its time and was even considered a trashy romance by some critics. This may be a precursor to chick lit, with light-hearted British humor, but with weighty moral principles.

It’s funny how much I can admire and aspire to be a fictional character. But Charlotte Brontë has written this character so well that in the moments I was reading the book she seemed so real. The first person narration effectively gets the reader into Jane’s brain; this reader at least. I was so into Jane that when the schoolmaster embarrassed her in public, I felt the shame, the indignation. And I felt the frustration that I cannot do anything about it as being merely a reader in Brontë’s able writer hands. So into the story I got that at one point, when Jane received a marriage proposal from an unlikely suitor, I was shouting “No, Jane, No!”

Jane, as narrator, is convincing as a child and even more endearing as an adult. I fell in love with her character. Okay, okay, I was totally suckered into the drama of this book. To think I thought I didn’t like romance. Bah! Nothing wrong with (I’m sure it’s rather healthy) indulging the sappy romantic inside of us.

Whew! I’ve been busy moving posts from my multiply sites to blogspot. Am working on 2 other blogs aside from this one. Plus a googlesite, which I’ve just discovered today. I’m learning about things like gadgets and gizmos a-plenty and widgets and whatzits galore (try to get the song out of your mind now). In the past couple of days, I’ve met the blog doctor and learned about expandable posts, discovered the sitemeter, and have had to resurrect my rusty html skills. I’m overwhelmed. I need to shower. I need to sleep. But yes, like my friend and blogging guru ed predicted, I’ve been enjoying myself. But whew, the self promotion is a lot of work.

Blink is an easy, breezy, entertaining yet meaty read. To borrow a phrase from our book group, it’s something to “cleanse the palate” after reading a lot of work-related books and novels with serious, heavy life themes. Gladwell sure knows how to present what could be boring research findings in a light, easy to digest manner devoid of pedantic verbiage.

I was trying not to like this book because it seemed formulaic designed to mesmerize gullible bibliophiles, bestseller hounds, and book-to-movie producers. This formula combines an irresistibly charming cover; an exotic location worthy of magical cinematography; a time setting beset with political events hushed down in history books; tinges of controversy, oppression, and conspiracy; coming of age subplots; youthful romance; the intrigue that comes out of the blurring of truth with the term semi-autobiographical; and the romanticizing of literature and books, banned books at that. I wanted to resist all that and say, “whatthefafaya, that book is all hype.”

I’m almost ashamed to admit the formula worked. I was suckered in and I just found myself loving the book. Charmed by the characters – two adventurous teenage boys exiled to the countryside to be “reeducated” during China’s Cultural Revolution; a beautiful seamstress who I imagined to look like a younger, even more virginal Zhang Ziyi; and a delightful mix of odd and amusing personalities; even the supposed bad guys were lovable. I loved the seamstress and was happy with the choice she made at the end. I was mesmerized by the setting. Spellbound by the short, simple, but engaging plot. Completely captivated by the romance of a book about books. Totally beguiled despite my attempt to resist the formula.

I haven’t seen the movie adaptation of the book, and it almost seems unnecessary. The movie in my mind is probably better. Of course, it’s a book that called out to be filmed. Its author, Dai Sijie, is himself a filmmaker. Reading it, one can imagine hazy, dreamy, soft-focus cinematography of towering mountains and breathtaking cliffs, with a magnificent soundtrack, especially during two of my favorite parts – one is of the two boys crossing the narrow and dangerous mountain passage and the other is of Luo and the seamstress cavorting in the river.

Of course, my favorite part is the account of how they got their hands on the banned books, and I’ll leave that to you to read and discover how.

Traveling and reading are two of my favorite activities. So reading about traveling is up there in my fave things to do. It also inspires me to write about my travels, reminds me not to lose the opportunity to capture the experiences, emotions, and memories of the moment.

Back to this book. Peter Moore fulfills a childhood dream of going around Italy on a 40 year old Vespa on his 40th birthday. Fueled by images of Sophia Loren and Roman Holiday, and images of how cool he would look and feel, he got busy making his dream happen by purchasing a Vespa through ebay and then flying off to Milan to start his Italian holiday.

Peter straddles Sophia – yeah, that sounds pornish, but not if Sophia is his scooter’s name. And he’s off to an adventure without an agenda except to see Italy outside the confines of an enclosed vehicle. To feel the wind on his face and the sun on his skin and the little insects smashing against his chest. He meets interesting people, sees sights, and stays in off-the-beaten-track places he most likely would not find if he were traveling in a tour bus or any 4-wheeled vehicle.

His Sophia is an intrinsic part of his travels as her moods dictate how long they will stay in a particular place as different mechanics work out the issues of a 40-year-old Vespa. Everywhere, the Italians are drawn to Sophia and Peter’s romantic story; many times he gets special treatment, freebies, and price cuts because people are charmed by his Vespa story.

Peter takes the reader through Milan, Lucca, Tuscany, Rome, and a host of little-known places, visiting wineries, festivals, staying at villas, hostel and farms, and a few times on the floor or the Vespa machine shop. How I wish there were pictures to go with the words, but Peter’s narration sufficiently conjures visuals of the places, food, and characters in this lovely journey.

I love his description of buying provisions (bread, cheeses, wine, olives, ham, fruits) hanging his shopping bag on that built-in bag-holder hook that Vespa models have, and then eating anywhere he wants – in a piazza or a meadow or a ruined abbey. How I’d love to do that too.

Peter talks about how Benito Mussolini’s lingering an extra day at Lake Como spelled his downfall and the author says that the beauty of the lake must have made it worth the pain. Driving a temperamental Vespa can sometimes be a painful process too, but obviously, it is well worth the pain.