I became a traitor. TRAITOR (yes, with big capitals) to Nature, to the Old, to the Traditions. I ordered a Kindle.

Good bye, shiny new books! Good bye, old smell of paper! Good bye, dog-eared pages!

Good bye, heavy boxes! Good bye, big expenses! Good bye, heavy handbags!

My new library eagerly awaits me!


What I read

A few months ago I wondered how was I supposed to spend that thirty minutes on the tube that I have to take every day to and from work? The most boring hour in the dark tunnels pressed together with sweaty strangers and screaming children. Of course I could read Metro or Evening Standard but I didn’t think the news would lift my mood. And there were books: an extra piece of something I have to put into my handbag which in weight now is quite similar to what I had as a primary school student. But if I could bear it when I was half the size then why couldn’t I handle it now, full grown?

I started with The Chronicles of Narnia, yeah, tiny little books, but they transferred me from the dark tunnels to the green fields of Narnia which was a nice change. Then I started what everyone read around me, simply out of curiosity, Fifty Shades of Grey and God help, I never read such a poorly written novel in my entire life! I got through 100 pages and just stopped because it annoyed the hell out of me. Characters, storyline, everything is just rubbish. But. It’s not the authors fault that it became so popular, of course it was her aim and her best interest but it’s the people who have bought it. So people wake up! If you want to read about sex or sadomaso, read Coelho’s Eleven Minutes!

I wanted something nice after the shock of Fifty Shades. Something special, something that would count to LITERATURE. So I started Joanne Harris’s Blackberry Wine. It is a wonderful read. It is magic. I drink every word of it but never getting hangover. The structure is very clever, interesting narrator, beautifully written, and I can hardly wait for that half an hour on the tube which always ends too soon.

“He took a mouthful.(…) It tasted as dreadful as it did when he was a boy. There was no grape in this brew, simply a sweetish ferment of flavours, like whiff of garbage. It smelt like the canal in summer and the derelict railway sidings. It had an acrid taste, like smoke and burning rubber, and yet it was evocative, catching at his throat and his memory, drawing out images he thought were lost for ever. He clenched his fists as the images assailed him, feeling suddenly light-headed.” (Blackberry Wine, Joanne Harris. Black Swan. 2001)

I think my next read is going to be Five Quarters of the Orange…

Art Café

I want to have an Art Café.

It would be a dim place with dusty bookshelves at the walls. Whoever comes in to have a coffee, would be welcome to read those books (not takeaway though).

Every now and then there would be concerts of up and coming bands, or short plays of amateur companies. Small exhibitions. Book promoting events (in case I will ever write a book).

Famous people’s signatures on the wall. My photos on the wall.

Cosy, warm.

So anyone who feels like investing his/her money and also willing to teach me a few useful things about business, please send me a message!

The Hunger Games vs ME

ImageThe Hunger Games, a big hit both in the cinemas and in the book stores. But all I can say is that I hate it.

I hate how reading the trilogy takes all my time from other things.

I hate how I know I should wait until next day I get on the tube to read it but I just can’t resist.

I hate I feel guilty not writing. I hate I stopped drawing.

I hate that I watched the film and, even though I do agree that it’s not as good as the books are, I can’t seem to understand why people say “they made a Twilight movie out of it” when I honestly can’t see any resemblance? (Would it be the “love triangle”? But it’s completely different. She’s not crazy about either of them….)

I hate that I don’t have an Ipod or any other device which would help me to listen to its soundtrack on the go.

I hate that I want to write something with the same effect on people but I doubt that I can.

I hate that it limits my freedom of being.

So I decided to get over with it as soon as possible.

So I’m off reading… 🙂

Writing a Novel

A few months ago I bought a book that taught me a lot of things. My life has literally changed since then. I changed. I can look at problems from different angles, I became somewhat braver and I’m not afraid to start learning photography or drawing (my newest “craziness”). I’m not afraid to think that what I do, might be good or will be good eventually. I believe that I can be creative and I have the right to be and I’m not less than others.

I started to plan my first ever novel (mostly to challenge myself). I have the characters and I developed the storyline which by the end transformed into a psycho-thriller which genre I never read and probably never would. (And the golden rule is: write what you read the most.)

I decided to write it in Hungarian even though the names are in English. I thought that some day I might translate it but because of my poor English I’d better start it in my mother tongue. Yesterday I opened a new page in Open Office:

First line: CHAPTER ONE     –     instead of ELSŐ FEJEZET

Second line: Faye’s scream filled the room.     –     instead of: Faye sikolya töltötte meg a szobát.

With all the newly gained wisdom I have no idea what to do. I was considering to replan the story or I can just mess with the genre borders.

And the thing about the language.. if it comes in English, what can I do? I wanted a challenge, didn’t I?