Jesus, My Father, The CIA, and Me: A Memoir…of Sorts by Ian Cron

Truth be told, I have never really been a fan of memoirs and autobiographies. But the title of this book was so intriguing I had to take a peek. Thanks to Booksneeze for the complimentary copy. The book speaks volumes in the title itself. It is really all about the life of Ian, the author, as much as he can remember it, thus being called a memoir. And with as much truth as a creative writer would allow it, thus it being ‘of sorts’.

Ian tells of his childhood being with an alcoholic father. How he dealt with it at every stage in his life right till after his father’s death. He relates how alcohol affected not only his lack of having a father but his life directly. And at the end of it all why his father was who he was. He tells us about his mum. What kind of mother she was. And what kind of grandmother she turned out to be. He tells us about the nanny he had. How she looked and how she acted. And the role she played in his life throughout the years. He writes some bits about his siblings, his model sister and his brothers.

I cried and laughed; I nodded my head in agreement and felt realization in my heart and so much of what Ian wrote. I love the simplicity of the words he has used. The short sentences and the amount of truth it still weighed. It is a book I would treasure and recommend to anyone. It is a book I would keep for my kids to read.

Heart of Ice by Lis Wiehl and April Henry

If you are into crime, this is a book for you. It circles around 3 friends – Allison a federal prosecuter, Nicole a FBI agent and Cassidy a TV journalist – who come together not only because of their friendship but their similiarity in their work. In the initial part of the book, we find them discussing a current case. However, this case is not the main focus of the book. There is another case that builds up as the book progresses.  

This is not the kind of book which leaves you wondering who the killer is. The bad people are known from the start. It does however leave you in suspense as to how the bad people are going to be found out.

In the case of Heart of Ice, the bad person is an Elizabeth, who on the outside is your typical gal. Good looking, well toned, doing well, handsome boyfriend. However, we soon learn how much a sociopath she is. And how she cleverly plays on the weaknesses of people and manipulates them into doing what she wants.

Each of the ladies has a character which almost everyone can relate to. And so the issues in the book become almost personal, depending on which character relates to you best.

I would definitely recommend this book to everyone who loves a good crime thriller. Thanks so much to Booksneeze for the complimentary copy. I will definitely be looking out for more of Lis Wiehl’s books.

Time Traveller’s Wife

If the unknown became known.

Yet what is known can never be altered.

Would the unknown be a burden or a joy?

If the pass could become the present

Would we live more in the past

Where things are certain

More than we live in the present

Where our fate still lies on periphery

Of things better or things worse.

Would we be complacent knowing

The known cannot be the unknown?

Night of Many Dreams

Just finished the book Night of Many Dreams by Gail Tsukiyama.  Bought it at RM17.90 at BookXcess.

A good book. Easy read. Simple storyline.

It’s a book about change. A book about strength. A book about chasing dreams. A book about family ties. A book that binds. A book that makes you realise.

It’s a good book. At the end of it, I think about my family. And I think about where I am. And I think about how I got here. And I think about what kind of parent I hope to be.

It’s a book that leaves you thinking and feeling. And not just only satisfied that you have finished a good book.

Religious Regret?

My kids will grow under Christian teachings, seeing that hubby and I are both of similar faith. But it was not always the case for us. We both became Christians only at a later stage in life.

So, I am not sure if I can say it is with regret that my kids will not suffer the same traditions I was subject to in my youth.

I use to dread Chinese New Year eve, not only becuase I am a girl and was expected to help with the cooking and mountainous cleaning. But also when the clock striked 10pm, sis and I had to change into some presentable clothing (which meant long jeans) and follow my dad around Malacca town on FOOT to visit temple after temple. My dad was an adventurer who believed a town can only be fully appreciated when seen on FOOT! 

So, without fail we would put on our sneakers and begin our ancestory trail.

I remember wishing for my menses during this time only because that would mean I would not have to light up the big bundle of incense. Having to struggle and push amongst several other people who had open pores due to the heat and were pouring sweat in litres. Or to dodge from some of those who had successfully set to fire their incense and didn’t have the sense to carry that huge ball of flame above their heads away from eye level!

And having the much noted stomach ache that came would also bring upon some sympathy as to the long walk home. However, this benefitted mum and sis as well without them having to suffer the real inconvinience.

We did this year in year out. It was our family Chinese New Year tradition.

When my dad stood up in church one day proclaiming himself a Christian, this tradition ended. And in it ending with him, my kids will never experience this in its entirety.

Yes, we can go visit a temple, though whether I would subject myself to it again is yet to be known. But they willn ever need to light incense andstruggle among BO sticky people. Neither would they go from altar to altar asking for future results yet unknown. It would be a concept totally alien to them.

Goodness me, they might not even need to take the heritage route on foot knowing my hubby’s inclination.

So, it is actually TWO less experiences of mine that my kids will not go through. I am not sure I can say it is without regret that my kids will not suffer the same traditions I was subject to in my youth.

I reckon going through that religious stage and then becoming a Christian makes the change in spirituality more significant.

What do we do?

I am on leave yet again. This time unplanned so I have no serial to latch on to. I have no car. Hubby has taken it. So, I am basically stuck at home trying to find something useful to fill up my time.

I am so done with house cleaning and clothes cleaning. Which is why I am stuck in this chair and not walking about the house. Truth be told if I start to walk, my chores are endless. Like right now, the fishes are swimming in murky water.

Which by the way did you know that some fishes’ poop are actually heavier than others? And the heavier they are, the less murky the water will become since it sinks to the bottom and will not get stirred up as easily.

But, where was I?

Oh yes. The nothing to do, nothing much to write stage. Trying to think of a story to write but really I write well only through life experiences.

And right now my experiences in life are 1) how to change a diaper for a struggling child or even 2) how to wear a diaper when the child refuses to lie down. 3) How to get your naughty kid to wash his poop filled bum instead of rolling all over your clean sheets.

I don’t think you would want to read about anything like that, now, would you?

Motherhood. It sure isn’t all it is cut out to be.

Trust Oprah of course to find one mother who writing about her experiences made it rich. Makes you feel even worse. With all that so called writing skill, I can’t even do that !

And look at that mother whose mother inlaw takes care of one kid and the maid taking care of the other. Look at her jet setting around the world. And going where this year? Where in the world do you find the cash? And what brand of a handbag is that?

And not to pour cold water over warm milk but in my hand is warm milk while in that woman’s hand is some cold drink. And she sips it while talking about some new hotel in town. Whilst I hold the baby botel in one hand trying to catch snatches of whatever the rest of the party at my table are bragging about. And I am thirsty too, which is really not the reason why I am not opening my mouth to contribute to the conversation.  They say best to keep quiet rather than well, proof that you are indeed dumb. And I am not even blond!

Oh! And did I tell you I am the world’s most rotten friend now. The last time I met up with my best friend was in hospital when I delivered my son. Great social place huh! And my son is now 2 years a some months. And my other best friend who always calls me when she came down to KL now no longer calls me. She instead subtly tells me that she is ill and that some good friends are bringing her dinner when I do decide one day to call her and see how she is doing.

My cell phone has become a hotline instead for the kindergarten teacher and loansharks. I wonder why I even bothered getting a phone for the house!

So I am in a rut. Motherhood is about being in a rut?

Life becomes a monotonuous cycle, marriage becomes a familiarity and the big question is what if your kids turn out not as well as that woman who travelled the world or the one who sipped cold drinks or even the one who had regular sex?

I mean, that could happen you know. From where do we get our solace from?

Now, I think I should get off my bum and walk about the house. Idle words make for nothing.

On Chesil Beach

A simple concept, if not a taboo one.

A fear, if not an unspoken one.

A good ending, if not a sad one.

Excellent choice of words, if not a shuddering one.

A good book, if not a short one.

***

Sex is nothing, lust is everything, the act of it careless in comparison to how McEwan words it.  Where it stands and how it is, is less and more of what anyone would care to admit.

But this is not what puzzles me with this book. Why am I please with the way it ended? Even when it was not the fairytale ending.

It is perhaps the lack of seriousness by two in a moment gone wrong that can result in more dire results.

A maverick, this McEwan.

Love missed, life lessens….ahhh….the What Ifs in life….

Tennyson from New Dawn

There is sweet music here that softer falls

Than petals from blown roses on the grass,

Or night-dews on still waters between walls

Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,

Than tir’d eyelids upon tir’d eyes;

Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.

Here are cool mosses deep,

And thro’ the moss the ivies creep,

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,

And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

 

by Lord Afred Tennyson (1809-1892), no title, from Poems, in The Lotos-Eaters, Choric Song no.1, published 1832

p. 339 of 481 New Dawn, Twillight Saga

Twilight to New Dawn

I am afraid.

Afraid that when the saga ends, I would be caught in a lurch. What do you do when you are living in a twilight zone and one part of your existence just collapses?

How I wish it could be as simple as sitting on the porch when twilight hits you. And you watch the last glimmers of sun rays spread over the vastness. Its long fingers trying the grasp whatever it can get its hold on to stay just a bit longer. Yet failing each time. Like sand sifting through fingers. And when the sun finally loses the battle, your legs can just allow you to stand up and walk inside to a brightly lit room.

No darkness. No gloominess. No worry. No fear.

I am afraid.

Even more so because the one existence I was clinging on to made living in the other existence more bearable.

I wake up each morning with a sense of urgency. More acutely felt when it was a weekday and I knew that the little free time I had in between work, I could escape fully and totally into my other abyss.

The abyss that made my heart race; my sigh soft, fuller, more satiated.

I was done with 2 and 3. A new moon had seen me through my twilight to be replaced by an eclipse.

I never thought a new moon could draw me in further. It existed just when twilight was becoming dull to my senses.

But it was the eclipse that permanently cut off the light in my abyss.

The twilight, the glimpse of new moon and then the eclipse.

I wanted very much to stay in this darkness. A state of oblivion. Where dreams become vivid because reality has been darkened. A dangerous place to remain where there is no light. The magic of it all would end soon when a new dawn breaks.

How would it be when the new dawn is done with. I know I would have to survive in the world of sun.

How long would I be able to be in the sun without wanting time to hurry by so that I could wallow in my twilight again? Would the day be sufficient, when new dawn breaks, that twilight becomes another state that passes by quickly. A state that does not draw me in into its grasps and holds me in, a willing prisoner? A state that would suck me in less and less into oblivion and vividness.

The thought of that is a nightmare to me now. New dawn has not broken and I am still caught in an eclipse, holding on to the one thing that started it all – twilight.

I am not ready to let go. I do not want to let go. Letting go makes me afraid.

 

From my conscious state of mind….

The books are aptly named when I look at it that way. And I think I sound like a vampire as well. It’s all so meaningful that I am beginning to believe the abyss will remain forever.

From the abyss…..

When twilight ends. There would be no ambiguity. No 2 states exist. How could it exist when 2 have merged to become 1. Nothing will be the same ever again. Forever seems timeless…..

Note from me:

Twilight – The time of the day when the sun is just below the horizon, especially the period between sunset and dark.

Twilight zone – An area of ambiguity between two distinct states or conditions

New moon – The phase of the moon occurring when it passes between the earth and the sun and is invisible or visible only as a narrow crescent at sunset.

Taken from the book:

Not tonight. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight-a lunar eclipse, a new moon.

A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn’t cold.

Eclipse – A temporary or permanent dimming or cutting off of light

Taken from the book:

The corner of my mouth turned up in a wistful half-smile. “I used to think of you that way, you know. Like the sun. My personal sun. You balanced out the clouds nicely for me.”

He sighed.” The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight with an eclipse.”

I am.

I lie blank before her eyes.

She starts to fill me up and then clears me up again.

There is alot on her mind, I know. And her emotions must be in turmoil. There would be no other reason why she repeatedly fills and clears, action after action like a wheel in motion.

It must be something from the past that fills her mind. I try to glance and check what she fills me up with and I see many words of past tense.

Usually she fills me up smoothly and I am accompanied by many others after me.

But this time I stand alone. I am almost spent with exhaustion from being cleared so often. But I think this time filling me up will not be easy for her.

She clears me again. There are some things I guess she can never allow the world to see.

In filling, she can be fulfilled. Yet she clears again. Fulfillment will have to wait another day.

I am a paper. She is my author.