dandelion girl

Belated photospam from an amazing weekend!  Uni panini at El Quinto Pino, plantain & mole cake from SCRATCHBREAD at the Brooklyn Flea, epic early birthday lunch at Marea. Eureka moments: I am not fond of sherry or shortbread, I love SCRATCHBREAD’s aesthetic but the products themselves are far too heavy for my liking, burrata is oh so lovely, and I would buy loaves upon loaves of Marea’s olive focaccia if they only sold it.

FINALLY finished Michael Chabon’s “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay” last night.  It was certainly an interesting read, though not quite the transcendent, glowing experience that most reviews make the book out to be.  There’s nothing inherently flawed about the pace, character development, plotline, or even the author’s style per se.  I think it simply boils down to my personal preference and the niggling suspicion that perhaps Chabon isn’t 100% in sync with me.  Oh well!  That being said, yes, it’s a great book.  As much as the central character really is Joe, I feel that Sammy is the true unsung “hero.”

Work has been…  hm.  Well, I liken it to the French Revolution these days.  Rivers of blood and hellfire before change (hopefully?) occurs.

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Before anything else:

Montreal, you are lovely.  European chic and laid-back Canadian hospitality.  I am smitten!

Irène Némirovsky, “Suite Française”: A lovely set of stories, written with a delicate hand that never strays into over-sentimental.  The first is a distilled portrayal of the German invasion into France during WWII.  The author somehow captures the range of social strata and their varied emotional responses through just a handful of protagonists.  The second is an almost idyllic tale of a small village occupied by German soldiers, focusing on the developing relationship between a young French woman and the German officer staying at her home.  The story is all the more poignant given Némirovsky’s ultimate fate.  I’m really doing the book no justice by trying – and utterly failing! – to describe it, but suffice to say that the New York Times book review does a good job, and it’s really a remarkable read.

Alice Sebold, “The Lovely Bones”: Morbid premise aside, it’s a strange – and strangely beautiful – coming-of-age story that is well balanced between sensitive and sharply observant.  Sebold has a way of using unexpected phrases and descriptions to convey precisely what the characters are feeling, somewhat reminiscent of E. Annie Proulx’s tone.  The ending left me a little dissatisfied, but overall an excellent book for both “young adult” readers and general adult :) audience members.

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Fly-by review: “Middlesex” by Jeffrey Eugenides is a fantastic read.  It’s a beautiful mash-up of a coming-of-age story with a sweeping (dare I say epic?) family history chronicle.  The premise of the story is, incredibly enough, grounded in reality and scientific research, despite all appearances.  It also helps that the voice of the main character remains matter-of-fact, even with occasional detours into the descriptive.  (Never purple prose, though, alleluia.)  I liken this book to what Garcia Marquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” should have been – or ideally would have been, in my mind; that is to say, magical realism, but only because the narrator’s voice itself is what’s so magical, and not so much the events and the lack of ties to reality.  Does that make any sense?

I think the easiest way to sum up my feelings post-marathon reading session would be: lucid dreaming.

I’ve been eating strawberries and Ataulfo mangoes nonstop.  Also, durian and soursop/guanabana shakes, be still my heart. The first of the (imported) cherries are here!

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Aside from Mother Nature hemorrhaging bad karma on me, it’s been relatively uneventful re: life in general.  Quick jaunt to New Orleans (Cochon = awesome), rotation out in Queens, status quo otherwise.  Am on a rather strict diet in preparation for the end-of-the-month Montreal jaunt (Au Pied de Cochon = strikes fear in the hearts of mere mortals), so uh.  That said, it’s a good thing that my recent addiction is Ataulfo mangoes baptized with liberal doses of Cochon Butcher’s sweet potato habanero hot sauce.  Oh my god yum, etc.

Ace Attorney Investigations was charming.  Obviously not one of Capcom’s best efforts, but the chance to play our dearly beloved Miles-hime warmed the cockles of my blackened, charred heart.  XD

Again (a.k.a. Again: FBI Special Psychological Investigation Unit) was, on the other hand, really not awesome.  I love Cing and I’m heartbroken that they filed for bankruptcy before the second Hotel Dusk game is released, but this one really felt like a clunker.  I’m not sure whether to blame Tecmo or Cing, though.  The script was poorly written, with grammar and spelling errors poking the player in the eye, as if awkward dialogue flow and repetitive segments weren’t enough offense.  The characters are flat and underdeveloped (with the blessed exception of Lane Martinez hehehehe).  The very last bit of exposition on the Criminal Mastermind ™ was waaaaaaay the hell too long and verbose and utterly uncalled for.  The investigative process was clunky and too drawn-out for its own good.  I mean, really, how many times do I need to watch the same video sequence to get the Clue ™?  I hate bashing Cing’s last effort too much, but…  while I commend them for a rather interesting concept overall, I found myself literally falling asleep while plodding through the gameplay.  If it’s worth noting, the entire thing can be beat in under 8 hours… yet it feels, oh, interminable.  =_=

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Whoa, it’s been an entire month.  I still have two weeks of being on service left, which is a world of pain and suffering.  Ugh.

Daniel Everett, “Don’t Sleep, There Are Snakes”: I’m about halfway through this book and I find it a fascinating account of total-immersion fieldwork in a completely (and I mean completely) different culture.  Another point of personal interest is the fact that Everett started out as a missionary but eventually left the church.  I don’t use that fact to discount his philosophy or writing, though – putting religious debate aside, this is an intense and eye-opening narrative of just how different human societies can be.

I haven’t been reading as much as I would really like, partly because of work.  I’ll get back on track soon enough, I suppose – I have Bill Willingham’s “Fables” books on hold at the library, and if the latter volumes prove as good as the first, I’m sold.  The other reason I haven’t been hitting the books hard is Ace Attorney Investigations.  :D  Miles-hime!  IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME I MISSED YOU HA HA HA.

I fell off the BPAL wagon years ago, but I still love the few bottles that I have remaining.  Snow Moon is, by default, my winter scent; as the seasons are changing now, I’ve switched over to Gibbous Moon.  The notes are listed as “moonflower, Madonna lily, orris, white ginger, cucumber, hyacinth, and Irish Moss.”  It’s a lovely scent – fresh but soft, with a nice balance between floral and sweet – and the bottle has retained its magic nearly three (!) years after the initial purchase.  (Perfume oils, they’re wondrous things.)  I remember Budding Moon being an absolutely gorgeous spring scent as well, though it was a bit sweeter than my current preferences.

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