I just about finished the Take A Chance Challenge in the nick of time, and I have to say, it’s been fun! The randomness of this challenge led to me being pleasantly surprised a couple of times, and slightly disappointed a couple of times.

I created a list of the nine books I’d read as part of this challenge on 14 June 2009, and some five months later, I’m done!

The nine books I eventually read were:

1. John Christopher – The Death of Grass

2. Terry Pratchett – A Hat Full Of Sky

3. Orsan Scott Card – Ender’s Game

4. John Le Carre – A Murder Of Quality

5. Susan Hill – The Beacon

6. Gabriel Garcia Marquez – News Of A Kidnapping

7. David Guterson – East of the Mountains

8. Ann Brashares – The Sisterhood Of The Traveling Pants

9. JK Rowling – Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

This challenge also included some “lit riffing”, which I did to REM’s Diminished. I thoroughly enjoyed writing that “short story”.

So, my favourites from this challenge have been John Christopher’s The Death of Grass, Oscar Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, and Marquez’s News Of A Kidnapping – the only non-fiction book read for this challenge.

I didn’t really enjoy a couple of the others, but, when you take a chance, you have to be prepared to win some, lose some. Considering some of the amazing finds, I’m quite happy to let the so-called “duds” go.

Thanks again Jenners, for coming up with such a fun and creative challenge!

Stieg Larsson’s The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo has dominated the bestsellers’ chart this year, and the Swedish author has received much acclaim posthumously (Larsson died of a heart attack at the age of just fifty). It first came to my attention about a year ago (February 2009), and I added it to my ever-growing list, but, was quick to discount it as another “Da Vinci Code” – lots of hype, minimal substance. Finally though, the crime-thriller-lover in me gave in, and for that I’m grateful. I enjoyed the book thoroughly, but simultaneously, some aspects of it annoyed me a fair bit.

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is the first book in the Millennium series, and in its opening pages, the reader is introduced to the main protagonist of the story, Mikael Blomkvist, a disgraced financial journalist, who has just lost a libel case (against one of the business tycoons), and simultaneously, forced to temporarily relieve himself of his job at the small independent magazine, Millennium, which founded along with his best friend, Erika.

Out of a job, and in a bit of a financial flux, an offer comes to him by way of Henrik Vagner, an industrialist who offers Blomkvist over 2 million kroner, to write a memoir of the Vagner family. However, what Vagner really wants the journalist to do is solve a forty year old murder mystery – Harriet, Vagner’s niece, disappeared from the small island one fateful day, and no one had heard from her since, leading to the only reasonable conclusion: she had fallen victim to foul play. Despite his (and Erika’s) better judgment, Blomkvist does take up the job, and gets caught up in the web of part thieves, misers, bullies and incompetents, that makes up the Vagner family tree. Some members are pro-Nazi, some reclusive, some downright crazy, and all, it seems, with secrets to hide!

Considering the task at hand (solving a mystery forty years old, where all the evidence has been examined and cross-examined, and all the clues washed up), Blomkvist is convinced that he will not find anything. However, as the story takes its course, he comes face to face with “the girl with the dragon tattoo”, Lisbeth Salander. Salander is a complex lonely character, with multiple tattoos and piercings. She has her own sense of morality, does not abide by the country’s law, has serious intimacy issues, has photographic memory and is a genius hacker – a skill that comes in handy, as Salander acts as his research assistant and co-investigator.

The book picks up pace, and once you’re in the midst of all the action, it’s almost impossible to put down the book (note: I was up ’til half two in the morning finishing this book, on Wednesday, when I had to go to work Thursday!). You see Salander dealing with the troubles in her life her own way, acting on her own impulses; Blomkvist trying to escape the media circus around his name; Vagner desperate to solve a mystery that has consumed his whole life; and a myriad of other characters who seem to have their own whims and fancies.

Also, while on the face of it, this is a crime thriller, the book explores many other themes as well, specially those of misogyny and anti-Semitism. Initially, the book was called, Men Who Hate Women, and that should give the reader an idea as to what to expect, and trust me – at times, some of the more sadistic scenes will make you want to turn the page as fast as possible, while simultaneously, you won’t be able to peel your eyes away from a single word!

So, yes, the book is engrossing and it’s a pure page turner. Yet, it needs to go under the editor’s red pencil once again – I have serious doubts about it even being edited just the once. There’s some poor grammar, and while I do like descriptive writing, there is something called going overboard…

The office was a rectangle of more than 120 square meters. One wall was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf nine metres long containing a remarkable assortment of literature: biographies, history, business and industry, and A4 binders. The books were arranged in no apparent order. It looked like a bookshelf that was used. The opposite wall was dominated by a desk of dark oak. On the wall behind the desk was a large collection of pressed flowers in neat meticulous rows.

Only the last line of the above paragraph has anything to do with the plot of the novel! Two hundred odd pages could have easily been slashed.

There are also too many characters, and I had to continuously look at the family tree charted at the beginning of the book, to keep track of who’s who. I got the feeling that not all the characters were essential, but, they existed to make the book slightly more confusing.

Finally, I’ve always associated product placement with movies and TV shows, but never with books. However, this entire book had so many brand references, that it made me wonder – is this the future? Books being used to “place” products in the market as well?

The loss of her computer was depressing, but not disastrous. Salander had had an excellent relationship with it during the year she owned it. She had backed up all her documents, and she had an older desktop Mac G3 at home, as well as a five year old Toshiba P.C. laptop that she could use. But she needed a fast modern machine.

Unsurprisingly, she set her sights on the best available alternative: the new Apple PowerBook G4/1.0 GHz in an aluminium case with a Power PC 7451 processor with an AltiVec Velocity Engine, 960 megs of RAM and a sixty gig hard  drive. It had BlueTooth and built in C.D and D.V.D. burners.

The above mentioned laptop spec is already outdated, and PowerBooks haven’t existed for a few years now, but, that’s not the point. Not only do descriptions like the above prevent the book from becoming as timeless as it could be, but, it’s also descriptions that most readers don’t care about. Don’t get me wrong – I love everything Apple, and hate most things Microsoft, but, the random incessant name-dropping is a turn off.

If you can deal with some ramblings, and bad editing, this book comes highly recommended. I’m already half way through the second book, so, I think that speaks for itself. However, if you’re pedantic about things like that, and don’t indulge yourself in much “guilty pleasures,”  maybe you should skip this one?

Rating: B-

Background: This is the final book read, as part of the Take A Chance Challenge hosted by Jenners. Challenge#7, i.e. Random Bestseller reads:

Go to Random.org and, using the True Random Number Generator, enter the number 1950 for the min. and 2008 for the max. and then hit generate. Then go to this site and find the year that Random.org generated for you and click on it. Then find the bestseller list for the week that would contain your birthday for that year. Choose one of the bestsellers from the list that comes up, read it and write about it.

So, I came up with 1999, May 6, and the book I ended up picking was David Guterson’s bestseller, East of the Mountains.

Review:

While a 1999 bestseller is promising, I regret to say I didn’t finish this book. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have picked the book up, but, let’s face it: the whole point of this challenge was to pick books I wouldn’t have normally “taken a chance on”. The thing is, the book is really beautifully written, with amazing descriptions about the landscapes, that the author brings to life:

At the far end of Keechelus Lake, the sky eastward opened wide over distant coulees, buttes, and canyons, all swathed in morning light. Ahead lay a low film of red on the horizon where the sun was new; the road wound down through a a stand of grand firs with long, broad, flat needles.

The story revolves around Dr. Ben Givens, a widower suffering from terminal cancer. He decides to go on a last hunting trip, from which he never intends to return, as he meticulously plans his death, so that it seems like an accident. Essentially, he doesn’t want his daughter and grandson to undergo the pains of seeing him suffering.

However, almost before he starts his journey, his plans are turned upside down, by an accident, but he continues with his dogs, on foot, reflecting on the life gone by.

It does sound like an interesting read, but the minute the book started talking about hunting, and killing small birds, I stopped reading it. I don’t know why, but, it just made me wary. It’s weird, because I enjoy a good murder mystery. My love for reading started with crime thrillers, and I have read some reasonably gory books centring around misanthropists and misogynists. Yet, I just can’t stomach cruelty to animals… and, I don’t get why!

I’m not going to bother rating this book, because clearly, it’s not for me, but, I am going to spend some time introspecting as to why cruelty to animals hits me so hard. I stopped reading this about two weeks ago, and I’m still at a loss.

Any ideas? Do any of you feel strongly about something that you can’t really explain as well? Is it just a temporary thing? Please help!

This incredibly poignant well written story tackles various important and sensitive topics, some of which are still valid today, despite the book being set around the time of the second World War.

Set in the English countryside, Michelle Magorian tells the story of Willie, a timid little specimen, who is an evacuee from London, and is made to stay with the reticent grumpy Tom Oakley, who Willie calls Mr. Tom.

Mr. Tom is thoroughly unprepared for the scared nervous creature that’s at his doorstep, as he half-expects the evacuee stereotype – the wild ill-mannered children, who cause more chaos than anything else. However, he soon finds out that Will has been continuously abused by his mother, and his small body is covered with sores and bruises. But – the psychological damage surpasses the physical, as Willie cowers at the thought of getting on the wrong side of Mr. Tom, and is petrified of doing anything to annoy him. He also wets his bed, throws up his food, expects absolutely nothing, and tries to shut out the world around him, as his mother has brainwashed him into believing that people will only like him if he’s invisible and quiet.

However, Mr. Tom has demons of his own. Ever since the death of his beloved Rachel and son, he had resigned himself from village activities, and kept to himself, grieving alone. Yet, when Willie walks into his life, unexpectedly, he attempts to change, and provides the young boy with a happy home, almost selflessly. Be it clothes, food, shoes, or spending time narrating stories or organising surprise birthday parties!

A children’s book, there is no surprise that Will (calling someone Willie sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?) overcomes his childhood traumas, makes friends, works hard, and is a talented artist, under the protective loving care of Mr. Tom – the hero. Yet, half way through the book, Will gets a letter from his mother in London, who is ill, and wants him back…

This story will make you laugh, and it will make you cry. You’ll hate the woman that’s Will’s mother, but you’ll wish for more Mr. Toms in this world. You’ll mourn the tragedy of war, but cherish the permanence of friendship, and you’ll come to terms with life not being fair, but, things having a way of working out – eventually.

As a children’s book, this is incredible. Yet, as an adult, I found this book a little too simple, without the raw emotion I’d love to see in a book like this, which could bring it to life. Of course, one can argue that it might not be a book for children then…

Rating: B+

What books did you read while in school? Were there any that you particular liked, or even hated? Did any become lifelong favourites?

I was one of those girls who always had my nose in a book at school. Weirdly enough, though, my school didn’t allow non-library books in the school premises, which I personally thought was unfair, but, there you have it. I’ve had a good number of books confiscated, and I had to plead to the teacher’s better sense to have them back, because I wanted to know how the novels ended. What really did annoy me, though, was an English literature teacher confiscating my copy of The Poetry Of Robert Frost. I have always loved Frost, and I used to keep that in my bag at all times, just because Frost used to be my favourite poet. I never got that back, and that was the last time I ever took a non-library book to school. Being the stubborn teenager I was, I also stopped paying attention during English lessons (which was a pity, as I genuinely loved Eng Lit), and I started arguing with the teacher unnecessarily. However, in my defence, I still can’t fathom why an English teacher would not be happy with a book of Frost poems!! At least I wasn’t reading Mills & Boons or Danielle Steels or Sweet Valleys, or god knows what else!

Enough ranting, though.

We read a lot more short stories and poems than we did proper novels. We did read Little Women, but, it was the abridged version, and we didn’t experience any of the tragedies the book had to offer. We also read a lot of Shakespeare, including A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Merchant Of Venice, and The Tempest. I tried to get my school do a play on Macbeth, but, to no avail. A pity, as Macbeth remains my favourite work by the great Bard of Stratford.

Outside school, my reading pattern continuously changed. While in junior school, I tried getting my hands on as many Enid Blytons and Roald Dahls as possible. I did read some of the children’s classics (Tom Sawyer & Huck Finn, The Secret Garden, Uncle Tom’s Cabin etc), but not as vociferously as I would have liked to. Middle school was mostly Nancy Drews, Hardy Boys, The Three Investigators, and the like, before slowly moving on to John Grisham, Jeffrey Archer, Arthur Hailey, Robin Cook and Ken Follet.

Only at the age of fourteen did I dive into better books, like, Catcher In The Rye, The Fountainhead, An Equal Music, Lust for Life, etc. I think this was my defining year in terms of books I read, and the shape my life as a reader was going to take. Yep, I did read my share of really bad books, including a couple of Sweet Valley Highs and Nancy Drew On Campus, but neither of them were for me. A pity as I was hooked on to the Nancy Drew Casefiles.

I can’t really remember much of what I read after that, and I don’t think I actually read in my final two years of school, as I was struggling to get a good grade to get into University, while simultaneously keeping on top of all the extracurricular activities I had so enthusiastically dived into. So, yeah – that’s my school reading, in a nutshell.

Mish @ Stage And Canvas convinced me to read this book with a comment on the Great Movie Adaptations’ Weekly Geeks. It sounded like a fun, light-hearted read, and that’s exactly what it was. Fun. Light-hearted. Feel good.

It’s a book that combines the best elements of all the classic fairy tales, and exaggerates them to the point of hilarity. There’s true love, poison, revenge, hatred, pride, giants, miracle men, witches, great fencers, epic duels, beasts, torture, the villain and his cronies, and the hero who has to save the day.

It’s a complicated plot, where in the opening section, the most beautiful girl in the world, Buttercup, realises she’s in love with the farm boy, Westley, and she professes her love, which is obviously reciprocated. However, Westley decides to go to America to seek his fortune, but he is killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts. Devastated, Buttercup says she must never love again. And she doesn’t.

When Prince Humperdinck  (don’t you love the name?) finds her, he asks for her hand in marriage, saying the matrimony needn’t be bound by love. Buttercup agrees to the union, but, before the grand wedding, she is kidnapped by a genius Sicilian hunchback, a giant (who fears loneliness), and a wizard fencer (who is seeking revenge on the nobleman who killed his father). A man in black, better with the sword than one of the best fencers in time, stronger than the giant, and cleverer than the hunchback saves her, but ends up leading her to the nightmarish Fire Swamp, with quicksand and ROUS, or Rodents of Unusual Size. And this is there I stop telling the tale, lest I give too much away.

How can you not love a book which has lines like:

My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

or,

“Fool!” cried the hunchback. “You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is ‘Never get involved in a land war in Asia,’ but only slightly less well known is this: ‘Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.’”

He was quite cheery until the iocane powder took effect.

I was literally laughing out loud, and was thoroughly entertained. I loved the movie, and I love the book a little bit more, specially for its twisted plot, and for the obscure ending.

What, in my opinion, is truly genius though, is the fact that this is supposed to be the “good parts” version of S. Morgenstern’s classic tale of true love and high adventure. However, S. Morgenstern is a figment of Goldman’s imagination, and doesn’t actually exist. Why is this genius? Well, only because at the beginning of the book Goldman states it’s his favourite book ever, and his father read it to him while he was recovering from pneumonia. Throughout the book, Goldman adds “notes,” explaining some of the cuts he has made, for the original work was apparently epically long. These notes also include some of his thoughts, like, how a children’s book is bound to have a happy ending, and how, the leading lady will not be killed by sharks half-way through the book!

‘Life isn’t fair, Bill. We tell our children that it is, but it’s a terrible thing to do. It’s not only a lie, it’s a cruel lie. Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it’s never going to be.’

These comments from the so-called “abridger” reads completely independently, and, can easily be skipped/skim-read. But then, Goldman talks at length about the trouble he had with his fictitious book’s estate, and he makes an incredibly convincing case – which, retrospectively, I attribute to being satirical as well.

It’s a great book for children, and adults, and it just is a fairy tale as no other.

Rating : A+

I’ve been AWOL all week, as I was in sunny Morocco! A wonderful break from the cold misery that London’s been, although being in Marrakech did come with its downsides. Apparently, I’m allergic to the sun and the dust, and Marrakech is, by far, the most polluted city I’ve ever visited. I even had trouble breathing at times!!! Maybe, I’m just delicate…

Anyway, we stayed at a fantastic riad, which provided us with a scrumptious breakfast, and despite being in some dark decrepit alleyway, it was really amazing. The guys who ran it are French, and they were superb, and we ended up getting lots of advice from them. I even got to practice my French (Bonjour Monsieur, parlez-vous anglais? and je ne comprends pas covers it!).

Marrakech isn’t a pretty city, but what it doesn’t have in beauty, it makes up for in character. The main square and the souks are bustling with people, and everyone’s trying to drag you into their store/stall. You practically had to bargain for everything, which was slightly tiresome, as I’m a “fixed price” kind-of girl. However, when they ask for 280 dirhams for something, and eventually sell you the item for 80, you have to wonder…

Also, Sex and the City 2 was being shot in Morocco while we were there too – about five minutes away from where we were staying. It’s funny, as, last time we were in New York, we saw some scenes being filmed in Central Park as well, for the first movie. So, the three of us have been contemplating our next holiday location, just to see if we’ll run into the Sex and the City crew again… and, none of us are fans – just for the record!

Unfortunately, while I did take two books with me, my eyes reacted to the dust and the sun, and for most of the holiday, my eyes were watering, and I couldn’t read. Like an idiot, I left my glares back home, and that did my eyes in. I was walking with my eyes closed while outside, and that wasn’t out of choice. Sucks, as my eyes are closed in more than half the pictures we took outdoors.

Oh well, I’m back in London now, and have enjoyed breathing the clean fresh air (!), being blown away by the wind, and experiencing tube trouble – all in a day’s work! It’s good to be home.

Background:

While this month, my blog entries seem to be focused a lot on the Take A Chance challenge, it’s only because the challenge is up end of month, and I am actually trying to finish it. After this, I only have one more challenge to tackle, and I’ve already started the final book (David Guterson’s East of the Mountain).

This is challenge#1, i.e. “Random Book Selection”. My random directions included going to the fiction corner at Waterstones, and selecting the fourteenth book from the third shelf on the second book-case. Coming up with a Penguin Modern Classic, I think, was a shade of luck.

I don’t normally compare or contrast books, but, the best way to define this book would be Lord of the Flies meeting The Road. Considering The Death of Grass was published in the 1950s, and The Road in the 21st century, it might not be the fairest statement, but, when I finished the book, that’s the first thing that came to my mind.

Survival of the fittest. That’s what it’s about – even if it means civilised people killing their fellow citizens, contemplating leaving a young boy to die, heartlessly killing a couple, and keeping their eyes on reaching a “safe haven” of sorts. Finding comfort in the fact that they will be able to re-acquaint themselves with humanity upon reaching this haven, the protagonists (and their countrymen) resort to barbarism and anarchism, just to survive.

He stared up at her, incredulously, while she did so, and was still staring when the bullets began tearing through his body. He shrieked once or twice, and then was quiet. She went on firing until the magazine was exhausted. There was comparative silence after that, broken only by Mary’s sobbing.

A developed country, England, is in turmoil, after the Chung-Li virus has wiped out all their “grass” and “grass crops,” including rice and wheat. The Chung-Li virus has already caused widespread disruption in Asia, and the Europeans had seen them resort to their worst sides as the resulting famine ensured the lack of food for everyone. However, they attributed the disaster to the “lack of thoroughness” of the Asiatics, and figured that being in a developed country, they would never stoop so low.

The ecosystem is collapsing, but the government issues some false press that the virus is in control, in order to calm the civilians, and prevent them from panicking and acting out of haste. However, what the government has in mind is, for lack of better words, scary. Atomic bombs can deplete life; subsequently drastically decreasing the number of mouths to feed. Aid from the United States has come to a halt, and now, England is battling alone.

John Custance, an architect in London, on a heads up from a close friend, decides to make a break for his brother’s farm in the North, with his family and close friends. There, he figures, they will all be safe, until the crisis is over, and they can return to normalcy.

However, what ensues begs the question: Can their lives ever return to what it used to be like? The journey up North is difficult, violent, and life-changing in every way imaginable. People kill for food, for shelter, for survival. The fall of the government has just led to people’s darker sides taking over, and we see brutal scenes of rape, as well as, pure cold-blooded killing. Some members of the group are trying to hold on to their humanity. Some have left it behind, with the single goal of reaching the farm in mind.

This is a bleak depressing book, which makes me question my faith in humanity. When push comes to shove, will we resort to killing our own to survive? When the ecosystems break down, will we sacrifice everything that supposedly differentiates us from other beings, just to make it? Will we do anything in the world to protect our friends, families and loved ones? Even if it means compromising on the ideals we’ve always believed in?

Just as most of the book is bleak and disheartening, the ending is unbelievably despondent, and you’re just left gaping, wondering how on earth did humanity end up like this. And then, you thank your stars that this is merely fiction…

…But, for how long?

Can you imagine killing someone in cold blood, just because they have shelter and food? And how would you react when you knew the odds were against you, but, you knew exactly what you had to do if you wanted to live another day?

Rating : A

I stumbled upon this book in a second-hand bookstore, and fell in love with the cover. It’s also my first green Virago Modern Classic, and I was quite excited to begin this journey… luckily, it didn’t disappoint, which is nice, as my last two reads haven’t been exceptionally good, by any standards.

Set in the backdrop post the Great War, Full House introduces us to one of the most frightening mothers in literature, Lady Bird, and her family which is undergoing all kinds of transformations. John, the oldest child was on the brink of insanity, and was sent to a hospital. He is now returning home, much to the delight of the entire family, and Eliza – a friend to both, Lady Olivia Bird and Sir Julian Bird – has come to their magnificent home, Silverue, to share this momentous occasion with them.

However, while the early pages of the book deals with John’s return, the story quickly develops into an account of the Bird children, their governess – Miss Parker, as well as the adults: Eliza, Julian and Olivia.

There’s Mark, the cruel albeit adorable child, who is the apple of everyone’s eyes, and everyone is completely captivated by his beauty, so much so that no one wants him to grow up. There’s his older sister, Sheena, who is in love with a boy, but their engagement has been delayed due to their age. John, of course, is the oldest of the three, and his return home is the catalyst for the rest of the story, which includes posh tedious tennis parties, a garden tour for fundraising which exhausts everyone as Olivia pushes them to do her bidding, broken hearts, new loves, and changed lives. Questions are asked about total honesty, about doing what’s right, and about loyalty. More questions are raised about true love, happiness, and friendship.

And of course… there’s Lady Bird. A funny name, if there was one, but a formidable character, nonetheless. Cruel, girlish, and more focused on being an “older sister” to her children, than acting as their mother, Lady Bird is accustomed to getting her own way, and Julian indulges her. Her children don’t have the nicest things to say about her, and despite threatening to leave, they never really intend to. Yet, she never registers her children’s true opinion of her, as she focuses on looking “oppressively young”, creating fantastic flower decorations, and contemplating a Swiss governess for her youngest son.

The inconsequence and the obviousness of all her posturings and nonsense. How could she blind herself to the fact that they could not deceive her reasonably intelligent and spiteful offspring. They did not see even the shadow of her pretended self, only her pretences. And in her affections she was most sincere. She had nothing else except her beauty, and that cold not affect them at all.

Words cannot do justice to the depth of this story. The writing is beautifully vivid, and the Birds are one of the most enchanting families I have across in the world of books. As the past catches up with the present, as old secrets emerge, and as despair overtakes some members of the house, one cannot help but share the emotions: sympathise, love, regret, shed tears, and hope for a happy ending, after everything the “poor dears” have been through.

This book was originally published in the 1930s, and the dialog is fantastic; full of “dears”, “sweets” and “darlings”. Terms of endearment and thrown about carelessly, as are aspersions cast. For instance, little Markie, at the age of seven, calls his sister “bitch”. I was fairly taken aback there. Yet, hopeless romantic that I am, paragraphs like the below did make me smile and wonder where the times have gone? Where the innocence and tranquility has disappeared to? And maybe… to an extent, I am glad we don’t talk like this anymore…..

“Eliza, look at me. Darling, you’re so wonderful. Why didn’t I know before you cared about me. Darling, tell me. Don’t be so obstinate. Oh my god, I love you so much. I think I do, don’t I?”

“How can I tell you if you love me, sweet one? I only know about myself.”

In a nutshell, I loved this book. The candid opinions, the selfishness, the adorations and the affections.

Rating : A

PS : I am trying out a new rating system, linked above. Please let me know what you think of it – does it work, or not so much?

Background:

The Take A Change Challenge is due to end 30th November, and I still have three challenges to complete. I’m half way through one of the books, and did start the second one, but put it on hold.

Anyway, Challenge#8 (aka Lit Riff)  says:

Choose a song and then write a brief story that is inspired by or further explains the lyrics of the song.

It took me absolutely ages to decide on a song, and I’ve gone through about three drafts, before I was happy with my selection. It’s a bleak song, called Diminished, by one of my favourite bands: REM.

It’s not one of their more popular songs. In fact, I couldn’t even find a youtube video of the band singing it. There were some covers, but, I really don’t do covers! So, anyway, here’s me lit-riffing, and crossing off another one of the ten challenges that make up this incredible challenge.

She closed her eyes, and leaned back on her seat, wondering how to play it. She knew she was going to be called on to the witness stand any second now, and she didn’t have a plan. Absolutely nothing. And she had told her lawyer that she had it all covered; but, she just couldn’t remember what happened that fateful rainy night, try as she might… It was almost like it had been permanently erased from her memory, and there was no backup. The lawyer had tried to prepare her. He’d asked her questions. Questions she was unable to answer. Had they argued that night? What was the argument about? Had she pushed him?

She remembered the argument. Oh, it was so silly. It was actually about orange juice without bits. So insignificant. How on earth had it resulted in something like this? Had she…, she gulped. Could she have…. Did she… push him? She shook her head immediately. There was no way she would’ve…. she had never even hurt a fly!

It was the not remembering, that really scared her. That had made her not listen to her legal advisor. He had advised her to plead guilty by reason of insanity. She had rolled her eyes then, but now, seconds before she was going to be crucified on the stand, she wondered if it was completely implausible. Maybe she should just plead guilty…

“What’s the precedent on this kind of a thing?” she whispered to her lawyer.

He looked at her, exasperated. “You don’t want to know,” he replied, and looking at her pale tormented face, felt a pang. Whoever said lawyers don’t have feelings? “Just… try and charm the jury. Think it’s in your favour.”

She looked at him, and sighed for what seemed to be the nth time, wringing her hands together. She heard her name being called, and the lawyer nudging her to approach the bench. She glanced at the jury, and saw the poker faces staring back at her. She averted her eyes immediately, and felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

“Baby, I loved you. Baby, I loved you. Baby, I…” she whispered, taking her place, and putting her hand atop the Holy Book, almost mechanically. “Okay, I’m going to do my best today. I’m going to do it right. Please god, give me the courage,” she said to herself, as she looked around her, seeing the unfamiliar faces; some friendly, some downright hostile.

She crumpled to the floor, before they could even ask her to confirm her name. A broken soul. Everyone could hear her loud gasps for air, as she cried uncontrollably. “Baby, baby, I’m finished…”

She glanced up, and saw the jury’s poker faces transform into looks of sympathy. The hostile glances in the audience had decreased significantly. In fact, some of those faces actually reflected concern. Even the aggressive prosecutor looked embarrassed at questioning the young girl.

She smiled a secret invisible smile to herself. She had played her part perfectly.