The Reality Fuel Challenge has been mentioned in a million places. I generally read a lot so I didn’t think reading 50 books in a year would be a difficult task for me but considering the fact that we’re a quarter way through the year and I’ve only finished eight, it might not work out. Either way, I am going to keep track of them this year, just to see. Below is the list so far. I will put my progress here and you can read excerpts from those books and others here.

1. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Over the years, I’ve had many friends recommend this book to me. People, it seemed, either loved it or hated it. I thought it would take too much emotional and mental involvement to read it and so saved it for later and later. A few months ago, a friend of Jake’s, whose reading taste I agree with, told me that he had just finished the book and it was the best he ever read. He couldn’t stop talking about it, so I decided I had put it off long enough and checked it out from the library.

The first week of the new year, I took one of my last vacation days and read the whole book in one sitting. The first fifty or so pages were confusing and I didn’t get into the story very much. But somewhere along the line, I got really attached to the characters, especially Ursula, and even started enjoying the insane story Marquez spun. By the end of the book, I could totally understand why people said they hadn’t read anything like this before. The book is difficult to describe. It requires suspension of disbelief. But Marquez is a fine storyteller and I did truly enjoy the book.

I guess this means I’m going to have to read his other favorite as well: Lolita.

2. Life of Pi by Yann Martel
I’m still trying to sort out my feelings about this book. I picked it up assuming it was a true story and felt annoyed at how surreal the story got as it progressed. I didn’t enjoy the large quantities of blood which I felt didn’t necessarily add to the story. I did enjoy the writer’s creativity and thought the story kept me quite interested considering there was one real main character (two if you count the animal) for most of the book. In the end, I did smile and felt the book was clever at making its point but I still can’t confidently say I’d recommend it to everyone.

3. The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown
After months of hype I finally gave up and bought the book. I am a big fan of art history and I’d been told the book had lots of it. I am not quite religious, and definitely not Christian, which was keeping me away from the book but after weeks of hearing about it, I gave in. It was a really quick read and enjoyable for the most part. It was somewhat predictable and pretty badly written. The author kept describing each new character at length instead of giving bits and pieces. The characters were quite flat but the story did keep me interested and it was definitely better writing than some of the writers who spend weeks on the bestsellers list. All in all, entertaining.

4. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
Another book that took me a while to get into but then sucked me in completely. The first thirty pages of this Southern story moved slowly. The small book deals with racism and family issues and it’s well written. The characters are interesting and enjoyable. I enjoyed it quite a lot.

5. Mystic River by Dennis Lehane

I heard so much about this movie that I was dying to go see it. I forced myself to wait until I read the book because I knew I would never read it if I saw the movie first. I am really glad I waited because it was definitely the best mystery novel I read in years.

Most mystery writers spend too much time on the plot and not enough time on characterization. These characters were three dimensional. Likable and not at the same time. The grief in the story was overwhelming and made me identify with each of the characters at different times. The mystery itself was a bit odd since I really had no idea who the murderer was until the author revealed it. The ending, for me, was the worst part of the novel and did disappoint me a lot but over all, I still think it was a worthwhile read.

6. The Inferno by Dante Alighieri
I am not sure this should count since it was my second time and it was mostly for research. But I did reread the entire book and enjoyed it even more the second time around. Dante’s creativity and his style are still unparalleled in my opinion. Not to mention the fact that it was one of the first works ever written in the vernacular, as opposed to Latin. I won’t write more because I know I am biased when it comes to The Divine Comedy.

7. The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler
As a huge fan of Anne Tyler, I eagerly awaited her new novel for the last six months. This book is quite different from the others I’ve read (and I’ve read all but two of hers). First of all, it spans across about sixty years. Secondly, each sections is written from a different character’s point of view (though, some characters are repeated). While it’s obviously the married couple’s story, it isn’t very distinctly the wife’s or the husband’s. All of these aspects are new to her style. The prose, however, isn’t. Her characters are just as memorable, quirky, and ordinary as they are in all books. The story has the same ‘the extraordinariness of the ordinary’ quality I always find in her novels. As a married person, I found the book to be sad and cried several times. But then again, I cry at all movies and books, so don’t take my reaction as normal. If you enjoy Anne Tyler, I would certainly recommend this new novel. However, if you’ve never read her before and want to try, start with Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant. It’s excellent.

8. Bringing Down the House by Ben Mezrich
The beginning of this story about a group of MIT students who made a huge amount of money in Las Vegas pulled me right it. The story was interesting, the writing was not distracting and certainly not as dull as many non-fiction books I read. A hundred pages into the story, it stopped moving. My interest waned but I kept reading. In the end, I do think it was an interesting, fun and worthwhile book to read but I think it would have done much better as a long article. (a fact true for most non fiction in my opinion)



In progress:
QED by Richard Feynman
Intelligence turns me on. Varied interest coupled with intelligence turns me on even more. If Richard Feyman were alive today, I am confident I would have easily paid a lot of money to sit in one of these lectures. He is a rare example of an extremely intelligent man who has achieved incredible success in Physics and also loved his wife like crazy, played the drums, obsessed over visiting Tuva, and picked locks for fun. He worked on Quantum Electrodynamics (the topic of this book), was part of the team that created the Atom Bomb, and solved why the Challenger blew up among other amazing achievements.

A true sign of understanding a subject, in my opinion, is being able to put it into laymen’s term. For someone who has had an exceptionally bad physics education, Feynman’s lectures are magical to me. The ones in this book are simple, entertaining, make sense, make few assumptions on my previous knowledge, and most importantly, don’t talk down to me. The reading is dense. It takes time. But if you’re interested in physics and know as little as I do about QED, it’s well worth it.

If physics isn’t your cup of tea, I would still recommend two of my favorite Feynman books: What Do You Care What Other People Think? and Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman! both of which aren’t about physics but will entertain you and show you what a curious and amazing person Feynman was.

The Passion by Jeanette Winterson
This book was a Christmas present from my brother in law. It’s his girlfriend’s favorite book. I am not usually a fan of short stories and prefer not to read stories that take place too long ago in history. This author’s style is also a bit too magical for my taste. Despite all that, I am enjoying the stories so far. I’m about sixty pages into the 150-page book and will let you know what I feel in the end.

Next:
The Meaning of Everything by Simon Winchester

Recommendations are always welcome by email, comments below, or chat.

“You are led through your lifetime by the inner learning creature, the playful spiritual being that is your real self. Don’t turn away from possible futures before you’re certain you don’t have anything to learn from them. You’re always free to change your mind and choose a different future, or a different past.’ -Illusions by Richard Bach

I remember reading the above line, years ago, when I was sixteen and pondering about it. I totally got how you could rewrite your future but I didn’t get what he meant about the past. Over the years, I came up with many interpretations for the author’s meaning. Since I haven’t met and asked him, I am still not sure what he meant by that line, but I know what it means to me.

All we have tying us to our past are our memories of it. And memory is selective. My interpretation of rewriting the past is remembering events differently. Since most of it is our mental game, we could choose to play it differently and, boom, the past is not longer what it was.

Tonight I thought of another way we tend to rewrite the past. This case is slightly different in that, the past was actually different. I was looking at some old pictures. Months after the time the picture was taken, certain events followed. These events showed that at the time the picture was taken, there was some missing information, so now when I look back at the pictures, knowing what I know now, it changes everything. In this case, I am not rewriting the past, but I am realizing how it wasn’t what I thought it was.

It’s all about perception. At times, it’s hard to differentiate between reality and perception and we conjoin them more often than we should.

Perception is why watching the same movie several times gives us different kinds of food for thought. Why the same book changes meaning with each read. Why it’s important to go back and re-explore the past, the movies, the books after each life change. Each new path. Every few years.

Not only can the past be rewritten. It is rewritten often and inevitably.

“I imagine the feelings of two people meeting again after many years. In the past they spent some time together, and therefore they think that they are linked by the same experiences, the same recollections. The same recollections? That’s where the misunderstanding starts: they don’t have the same recollections; each of them retains two or three small scenes from the past, but each has his own; their recollections aren’t similar; they don’t intersect; and even in terms of quantity they are not comparable: one person remembers the other more than he is remembered; first because memory capacity varies among individuals (an explanation that each of them would at least find acceptable), but also (and this is more painful to admit) because they don’t hold the same importance for each other. When Irena saw Josef at the airport, she remembered every detail of their long-ago adventure; Josef remembered nothing. From the very first moment their encounter was based on an unjust and revolting inequality.” – Milan Kundera – Ignorance

I am fascinated by memory.

A few weeks ago I was telling my husband that I am amazed at the amount of information in my brain: Tons of words, in seven languages. Phone numbers of not only current friends but of old friends whom I haven’t even spoken to in ten years. Lyrics to songs I listen to daily and songs I haven’t heard in ages. The syntax for over fifteen computer languages that I’ve coded in. Random formulas from math and statistics classes. Flags and capitals of countries that I studied as a child. The first twenty elements of the periodic table that I was required to memorize in high school. Way too much Ottoman Empire history. Details of thousands of books, magazine articles, short stories I’ve read over the years. How to read music. User ids and passwords to my multiple accounts. Names of thousands of people I’ve met in my lifetime. Details of how a fixed income syndicate is formed and sold. Accounting formulas of every financial instrument. UNIX commands. Street names – of random cities all over the world. Subway stop names all over New York City, Brooklyn and the Bronx.

The list is too long to keep going. It just blows my mind how much information I seem to retain and how much more I can add to my current state without losing what’s already there.

Yet, in fascinating irony, I remember very little of my childhood and only sporadic instances from anything more than three years ago. A theory is that memory that isn’t recalled often tends to fade away. I don’t know if that means it’s still there and if I were to practice remembering it, it would all come back to me. Sort of like riding a bike (though I wouldn’t know since I can’t ride one): the information is all there and never disappears even if it’s not used in a long long time. I hope that to be true because it sort of saddens me to know how little I retain of my past. I guess that’s another reason to keep writing here.

Even more interestingly, when I read the above quote by Kundera, I nodded in agreement. I can easily tell that, for me, not only is it true that two people’s recollections of the same instance vary by the degree of importance they’ve put on it, but they also vary by the amount of distortion they’ve performed on the truth. It appears, I distort my past all the time. I remember events in ways that conveniently explain my actions at the time.

A few months ago, I was rereading a childhood diary because of a school essay I had to write. The entries were from the summer I turned thirteen. I realized that my writings completely mismatched my memories of that summer. While it’s possible that I was distorting my emotions in case someone read my diary, it’s more probable that I stretched the truth over the years to make the situation more melodramatic, and such, a better fit for my “poor me” conversation.

Talk about selective memory.

“As worker’s comp benefits have become more difficult to obtain, the threat to workplace safety has grown more serious. During the first two years of the Clinton administration, OSHA [ Occupational Safety and Health Administration ] seemed like a revitalized agency. It began to draw up the first ergonomics standards for the nation’s manufacturers, aiming to reduce cumulative trauma disorders. The election of 1994, however, marked a turning point. The Republican majority in Congress that rose to power that year not only impeded the adoption of ergonomics standards but also raised questions about the future of OSHA. Working closely with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce and the National Association of Manufacturers, House Republicans have worked hard to limit OSHA’s authority. Congressman Cass Ballenger, a republican from North Carolina, introduced legislation that would require OSHA to spend at least half of its budget on “consultation” with businesses, instead of enforcement. This new budget requirement would further reduce the number of OSHA inspections, which by the late 1990s had already reached an all-time low. Ballenger has long opposed OSHA inspections, despite the fact that near his own district a fire at a poultry plant killed twenty-five workers in 1991. The plant had never been inspected by OSHA, its emergency exits had been chained shut, and the bodies of workers were found in piles near the locked doors. Congressman Joel Hefley, a Colorado Republican whose district includes Colorado Springs, has introduced a bill that makes Ballenger’s seem moderate. Hefley’s “OSHA Reform Act” would essentially repeal the Occupational Safety and Health Act of 1970. It would forbid OSHA from conducting any workplace inspections or imposing any fines.” – Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser.

Amongst many others, one of the issues “Fast Food Nation” made me face was the drawbacks of capitalism. In the book, there are quite a few examples where large companies, which are major revenue sources and employers in a state, push around the congressmen of the particular states. When a corporation, regardless of its size, gets to tell a political figure what sort of law he can and cannot introduce in a state, I think it’s fair to say that there’s something wrong with the system.

I’m not against capitalism as a concept. I think there’s much to be said for the motivation provided by the knowledge that hard work can yield to a wealthy life style. Same goes for healthy competition. Often times the lack of monopolies provides for a more fair price for the consumer and allows for materials to stay close to their market value. I think incentives and personal benefit are better motivators than pep talks or long-term promises. Competition also promotes the push for better results. More efficient ways. I think in recent history, much scientific and electronic progress has been made in capitalist societies.

However, and you knew this was coming, it appears mankind is not necessarily exemplary in its behavior. There appear to be intoxicating effects of the money that encourage people to bend the rules far enough to break them. It appears the rich have no problem taking advantage of the poor, less educated or less advantaged. It appears there are some people who will do anything for the right amount of money. Even at the cost of human lives.

Until human beings grow up and grow a full-time conscience, I don’t think it’s possible to live in a fully democratic and fully capitalist society. I think organizations that watch out for the benefits of the thousands of people who don’t have a voice are crucial to our society’s life cycle. I think the government needs to remember its purpose and protect all of its citizens equally. Most importantly people need to care more. Humans are not an endless commodity. They are not a commodity. Humans have rights. Humans need to be treated like humans.

Sometimes it feels to me like thousands of years have changed little and we’re still not much better than the savages we started out as.

Previously? Eat Meat?.

I like to read. I love to read.

I like to listen to music. I like to go to the movies. I like to watch TV.

Until I moved to the United States, I didn’t realize that there were a whole list of movies/books/etc. I could never admit to reading/watching/etc. It appears, here, there are two sets of people: one. people who have no standards, two. people who only read literature or watch small budget/foreign movies.

It appears I don’t belong in either.

I like to read what I like to read and I tend not to worry about what others think about it. I read John Grisham and I read Charles Dickens. I’m not embarrassed of one just like I’m not particularly proud of the other. I don’t read Danielle Steel and I don’t read James Joyce or Hemingway. I believe that you can’t judge something unless you’ve actually done it. if you’ve never read Sydney Sheldon, can you really say that he sucks? If you’ve read even one book, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but I know tons of people who are happy to bash a novel they’ve never read, a movie they’ve never seen.

I think when you have the whole attitude that surrounds the mindset of ‘I’ll only watch movies that are small budget and independent’, you’re automatically ruling a whole set because it doesn’t fit into criteria that you’ve preset at a certain point for a certain reason. It’s such an exclusionary mindset. But that’s their problem. What people choose to deprive themselves from is completely their own problem.

I mostly mind the people who judge you for liking something they define as low quality. There is an entire list of music you should never admit to listening. And God forbid you enjoy some mainstream writer or movie. Which means you have to walk with your head down in shame and hide any part of you that might find the movie fun or the music entertaining.

Why are people so judgmental? Why do people have to categorize themselves? Why can’t you read comics and literature and Harlequin all in one and still be a high quality human being? Why do you have to wear all black and adhere to strict rules just to be intelligent?

I love Disney. I love cartoons. I enjoy watching teenage movies and TV shows and music.

And I refuse to be called stupid or non-intellectual.

Previously? Point of View.

Funny how one cares about these things, how desperately one wishes to make a good impression, how frightened one is of failure. It’s pure vanity of course. Or perhaps, to be kinder to oneself, professional pride. There are so many other more important things in my life to worry about, and yet what matters most to me at the moment is thinking of something clever to say at the last session tomorrow. Messenger’s the same – totally wrapped up in the conference, paying attention to every speaker, making sure everything is going smoothly, schmoozing his star speakers, keeping the TV people happy. Nobody would guess that he’s waiting for the result of a blood test that could mean the difference between life and death. I suppose it’s a blessing really, that we both have something to distract us. – David Lodge’s Thinks…

Life is defined by extreme moments, the up or down spikes that break the monotonous straight line. When I look back on my past, I always remember the spikes. Sometimes they are major events: my college acceptance, my first kiss, my sister’s wedding, my grandfather’s death. Sometimes they’re minor occurrences: a fabulous day with a good friend, a whispered secret, a broken trust. I don’t remember much about my daily life.

Yet while these major or minor events were going on, life still continues. In the last five years, I’ve had many personal struggles, but I put on a normal face and took the subway to work. I sat through meetings, fixed my code and talked to users. I might have even chuckled once or twice. Not only did I show up to work everyday, but I worried about my code, making sure it’s tested properly. I spent hours trying to solve a user’s production problem.

Tragedies happen. Even without considering the freak events like what happened over a month ago. People get old and die. People that you love let you down. People that you always thought you couldn’t live without, leave you. Most of us are emotional beings, we cannot move on in a few minutes. It takes time to develop a coping mechanism. Some recover quicker and some never really do. Regardless of your personal timetable, life continues on. In most cases, one has to report right back to work and meet deadlines. Or take midterms.

Ironically, I think it’s these small tasks that keep us alive, that keep us from falling into a deep depression. The fact that you have to go to work gives you a reason to get up and dress in the morning. Your midterms stop your mind from constantly replaying scenarios relating to your tragedy. The trivial, day-to-day activities ensure that you have at least split seconds where you’re not fully concentrating on the tragedy. I think that’s what starts the healing process. After the first week, you spend a single minute thinking of something else. But a month later, you spend a full day. A few months later, maybe you move up to a week. The misery slowly disintegrates. Sometimes it lingers for years but it’s not the debilitating emotion, it’s a whisper that’s barely audible.

I don’t mean that we should forget about our tragedies. I never do. Even if I really would like to. But life does go on and human beings have an amazing capacity for pain. And tragedies remind me how thankful I am for the mundane.

Previously? Greatness.