Fifty Shades of Grey

The Fifty Shades trilogy is one of the most talked about books in the market today. Because of its supposedly controversial theme, it drove many readers-women specifically-to pick them up. E.L. James, the author, has piqued the curiosity of women of all ages, race, income, gender preference and social status.

Me, I was glad I had them on the iPad. They made me survive the grueling continental trip to Israel. They kept me company while I survive boredom and fatigue.

Christian Grey is, for me, a man to be coveted. Sans the sexual addiction, who wouldn’t want a handsome, rich, intelligent, philanthropic man? Add a little vulnerability any woman would find challenging to overcome, I would have been a goner if he was a real person and I had the chance to meet him. I would have buckled in the knees, too, much like the mousy, insecure Anastasia Steele.

My review of the series may already be tainted from other reviews I have read in the course of reading it. I can’t help but agree that the characters are too much Twilight-y–from the godlike, too-handsome-to-be-true Edward and Christian, to the brown-haired, quiet Bella and Anastasia. The girls kept repeating the mantra of what-could-this-god-see-in-me. And I couldn’t agree more about the too much sex. Really! And the scenes just seem to be a little repetitive. Ditto for many of the lines. But still, I wouldn’t call it very bad writing. There were a lot of dragging parts but the books made me hang on to the very end to see how the characters would fare as soon as they got over the insecurities of Christian and Ana. The controversial BDSM are actually sparse, and can be found widely spaced throughout the books. “Vanilla sex” is actually more prevalent than the whipping, bounding, tying, etc.

They are really just that–books. After going through them, I could say I liked them, not really love them. There have been more better written and well thought of ones, of course. But then I knew what I was “getting into” so I wasn’t that surprised or pretended to be shocked by all the gory details. I read (if time and my toddler permits) a wide range of literature. I am not into just chick-lit, or fantasy, or crime. If you are a wide reader, you would understand how fun it is to pore over pages and pages of various genre. I don’t think reading the trilogy made me a different person nor had my values changed. I have not become a menace to society 🙂

On my nightstand now

Got this for Christmas, and began reading only now. While I got excited at the prospect of sitting down, or lying in bed, with a good book, any working mother would tell you how hard it is to get a minute to yourself when you have an active toddler demanding your darn attention. And as soon as she conks out, my thought would be not to open books or the television so that I could catch up on my crime shows, but to join her in dreamland.

Anyway, after sitting on a shelf for the last two weeks, Steve Jobs finally made it to my hands. I’m excited. And I’m hopeful. I’ve been looking for a little pick me up since we came back into the office since I’ve been feeling so lousy and down. I am eager to get inspired by how he changed the world!

Going to My Big Bed

Some friends warned me about toddlers getting too hooked up with toys, books and other materials. Like adults, they tend to have favorites. But as they do not know how to temper their feelings yet, they hardly put any masquerade on when showing to the world what they like and adore. Sometimes, it takes them awhile, at least with my own kid, to realize that they love something and continuously shower the thing with much affection. Like this particular book, which we bought during a book sale in the hospital when Tito Ninong had an operation a few months ago.

During the past two long weekends, mommy had to humor the big baby at home and had to read, like 500 times, Sheryl Berk’s Going to My Big Bed.lol. When we were at home, she would get from her stack of books this particular one, push mommy to sit on the couch, climb on her lap, and say cutely “Read mo Emily!”. Emily is the little girl in the book who had to transition from sleeping in a crib to having to her own big bed. I figured this book is one of several Barney books, which provide little lessons to toddlers. I have to go and hunt for the other ones since my babe seems to like this one so much. After a while though, I felt like I have memorized little Emily’s story, and the baby girl has still not gotten her fill of the story. I was torn between laughing and a little exasperation but in the end, had to give in to her demands for the book. She didn’t even other people in the house to read to her, mommy lang, reminiscent of days when she would always tail me. She still does this, oftentimes tugging at my hand whenever she wants me to stay with her, and not do anything else. The mommy in me, of course, always wins. Mischa’s need for affection and attention always comes first.

Edit: Now I remember when Mischa was between six and twelve months old, and she wants to me to sing Barney’s theme song of “I love you, you love me…”, she would stand in front of me and say “ahhhhh…”

Before Ever After

My long hiatus with books has ended. I think I mentioned several times in this blog that books are something that have totally shaped me, and which I hope I can pass on to my young daughter. Very unfortunately, motherhood came along, and my passion for reading was stifled a little. No, make that a lot. Inasmuch as I would like to pick up new arrivals and devour them at home, I cannot ignore the demands of Mischa, especially now that she’s at that cling-to-mommy stage. My book purchases of late have been of Dr. Seuss, Good Night Moons and other large, colorful board books.

Anyhow, I surprised myself by looking for that much-hyped Before Ever After of Samantha Sotto. I was fortunate enough to snag the last piece at National Bookstore in Mall of Asia, and I didn’t want to go hunting for a copy should it not have been available there. Peering into its storyline, I got hooked as soon as it mentioned travel to Europe. From its website:

A modern fairy tale about true love, happy endings, new beginnings, and everything in between.

Three years after her husband Max’s death, Shelley feels no more adjusted to being a widow than she did that first terrible day. That is, until the doorbell rings. Standing on her front step is a young man who looks so much like Max–same smile, same eyes, same age, same adorable bump in his nose–he could be Max’s long-lost relation. He introduces himself as Paolo, an Italian editor of American coffee table books, and shows Shelley some childhood photos. Paolo tells her that the man in the photos, the bearded man who Paolo says is his grandfather though he never seems to age, is Max. Her Max. And he is alive and well.

As outrageous as Paolo’s claims seem–how could her husband be alive? And if he is, why hasn’t he looked her up? – Shelley desperately wants to know the truth. She and Paolo jet across the globe to track Max down–if it is really Max– and along the way, Shelley recounts the European package tour where they had met. As she relives Max’s stories of bloody Parisian barricades,medieval Austrian kitchens, and buried Roman boathouses, Shelley begins to piece together the story of who her husband was and what these new revelations mean for her “happily ever after.” And as she and Paolo get closer to the truth, Shelley discovers that not all stories end where they are supposed to.

While my wandering feet have only touched the soils of the United Kingdom in that continent, my mind has wandered deep into the bellies of France, Italy, Spain, Greece, Morocco, Belgium, the Netherlands and so on. My curiosity was instantly piqued. It helped that the book is continuously getting good reviews, most especially from people whose opinions I like and trust.

So now, I’m giving it a try. Try being the operative book as I have not had much time to squeeze it in over the weekend because of the kid hovering and demanding attention. It would have been one of those hard to put down books but as it is, I have to sneak it between household and child care, and my own shut eye. But the book bodes a lot of promise. I am such a sucker for love stories, history, family, and travel. I hope I can finish it this week. I felt lucky enough to steal a few chapters last Friday before sleep claimed my tired eyes and body.

If only I could leave work for a while and curl up in bed with a good book like I used to in my younger and more carefree days (waxing sentiment here).

late bloomer

when it came to the twilight series that is.  i finally caved in to the prodding of one of my colleagues who gave me pdf files of the books and pirated versions of the first two movies (i might burn in hell for all the piracy i’m going through).  i know it’s been, like 5 years, ever since the first book came out, and like the harry potter series (which i love to death!), became a hit across genres and generations.  i’ve snubbed it for some time, thinking that it’s just a good read for adolescent girls, and wondered why on earth friends and officemates older than me have gone ga-ga over it.  i thought it was just the good looks of robert pattinson aka edward cullen or the gorgeous body of taylor lautner aka jacob black or the sweet innocence that seem to spew out of kristen stewart aka bella swa, i don’t know.  right now, i’m willing to try my hand at it.  i opted to first watch the movie, then read the book later.  i spared myself the disappointment i had with the dan brown and harry potter films because i was expecting a lot, having knowledge about the contents of the books.  thank god mischa spared me the needed couple of hours so that i could watch and actually enjoy eclipse in peace, while she drifted off to her nap.  now, on to the book…

raising a reader

DSC04030books have been part of my life as far as i could remember. i’ve wanted to devour every book i could lay my hands unto. i have always been fascinated by the colorful worlds i travel on and got lost into whenever i lie down with a book propped on my chest. modesty aside, i know that i can thank my love of reading for the way i can speak and write. i remember in grade school and high school when i would save every penny i have just so i could buy the latest in the sweet valley series. i progressed on the judy blume, nancy drew, sweet dreams, danielle steele, sidney sheldon, etc. series. i’ve progressed on to further things since then. (but i will always remain a harry potter fan). now i want to pass on to mischa my fondness and special affinity for books. i want her to grow up loving them the way that i do. i want her to experience the joy whenever she enters another realm just at the tip of her fingers. in this age of digital whatnots, PSPs, ipods, internet gaming, etc., i still want her to get the feel of losing oneself amid the pages of a good book. i don’t know how to describe it but i just get this feeling that you socially develop differently when you are not holding something electronic to keep yourself amused. i personally have really slacked off in the last couple of months (hmmm maybe even the past year) what with doing wedding preps then baby preps then giving birth then baptism reception then… well, you get the drift… been too busy for my beloved books. although following mischa’s birth, and wanting her to get the hang of reading, i’ve started reading to her books that I’ve requested from her indulgent titos and titas, and books mommy and daddy bought. i know that it will help her develop mentally because she gets to hear words and sounds. she learns to listen well, and hopefully will also master speaking well (with the proper diction of course!). i know she enjoys my reading to her by the rapt attention she bestows on me every time we open a book together.

i especially like reading these to her:

i love u all the time

goodnight moon

love u forever