Right, when I put it like what the title says, I got scared a bit too.

Another decade is ending soon. I’ve noticed as I grow older, I am so much more aware of time. I don’t remember the big fuss about turning 2000. I only remembered my mom was preparing something delicious for dinner and the TV was on, but I wasn’t paying much attention, my baby brother just turned one and I loved playing with him.

I don’t recall anything about the World turning 2010 either. I was in University, and the only things I remember from that year were a) I won the National Scholarship and b) I turned 20 that October. I love even numbers and that year’s birthday was 20101020, and I turned 20. Some sort of a lucky sign, I’d think!

I started to pay attention to dates when I moved to the desert, I landed on the 10th of October, 2011. Again, an even number date.

Back to books. I saw a question somewhere the other day: Favorite book of the decade, and I stopped, and thinking how impossible this question is. Even now, wow, to think about all the books I read and loved in 10 years is a scary thought! In the beginning, I wanted to say five books I loved in this decade, then immediately I thought about 8 books’ name, so I wanted to number it 10, but then more names dancing on top of my head and I just can’t be bothered with the actual number. It’s never my style anyway.

So here it goes, in no particular order, as many as it gets, I might stop at three, you never know, ha!

Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad)  – Gabriel Gracia Marquez, Colombia 

I read this book before, in the last decade. But the reason why I put it here is that China didn’t get the official authorization from Gabriel Gracia Marquez until early 2010.

Legend has it that Mr. Marquez came to Beijing and Shanghai in the year 1990 (my birth year!) and saw both Hundred Years of Solitude and Love In the Time of Cholera were published without his authorization. He was so furious that he said he will never authorize the copyright to China for 150 years posthumous. The publishing houses in China have been trying so hard since and finally, in 2010, Thinkingdom Media Group got the approval email and Chinese people finally get to read the book legally(?)

If you are wondering, yes I did purchase again his book in 2010, just to see if there’s anything different, how naive.

To be honest, I was curious to see if the opening line is still the same. And if so, it is without a doubt, the best opening line I have ever read in my life. I tried several times to write something like that in my final essay and it never failed to get a high mark.

The other reason I love this book so much is that halfway through it, I guessed the ending. I got so thrilled in a way that it almost felt like a high (not that I have ever been high) And when it ended, I cried, not only because it’s such a wonderful masterpiece of its own, I felt the author, I agreed with him, I can see him writing the stories with his pen, as if I was there. With him.  I guess this is maybe the most wonderful feeling a reader can have, to get this connection with not only the book but the brain behind it. I will always keep a copy somewhere in my bookshelf.

“Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.”

The Last Quarter of The Moon (额尔古纳河的右岸) – Chi Zijian, China

I have to put this one right after the Hundred Years of Solitude, why? This book reminded me so much of that, a completely different story, a totally different writing style, but while I was at it, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Latin masterpiece.

Chi Zijian is one of my favorite contemporary writers, and she’s so graceful. The original name of the book in Chinese is “The Right Bank of the Argun River ”  “Argun” in Mongolian means  “baby, treasure.” I still remember how I loved the translation of the book name when I found it in a Japanese bookstore in a foreign land, years after I first read it in Chinese. It kept the essence of the book, yet so poetic. Her other books are just as wonderful, the book Peaks of Mountains is something you have to read too!

And guess what? I figured the ending halfway through the book too.

“A long-time confidante of the rain and snow, I am ninety years old. The rain and snow have weathered me, and I too have weathered them.”

And The Mountains Echoed – Khaled Hosseini, Afgha-America

You must know his first book, or even saw the movie, The Kite Runner. I cried every time I watch that movie or read the book, it reminded me of our own greatest Lu Xun and his friend Runtu back in early 1900, the relationship, love, loyalty, master and servant, pride, honor, the inevitable change.

And when I read Hosseini’s third book, again, the bestseller, I couldn’t finish it in one go, I am a very fast reader, but this one I tried several times to pick up and have to drop it again so that I would stop crying. The last time I have to do something like this with a book is Gone with the wind, but that’s a bit different too, I read the beginning of gone with the wind for like 20 times until I can continue, and once I did, I finished that book in one afternoon.

And The Mountains Echoed is very different from the previous two books of the author, yet, it’s still very very Hosseini. And while the story was opened in the year 1952, reading it never failed to remind me of my desert days and stories that happened there. It’s as if it’s my own personal treasure box. And I have nothing but the fond memories there. I can smell the heat, I can smell the Arabic scent. It’s a book to tell us how we love.

I post the book once on Instagram and one friend commented: “I cried my eyes out reading it.”

So you know what I mean?

“Every day, he labored from dawn to sundown, plowing his field and turning the soil and tending to his meager pistachio trees. At any given moment you could spot him in his field, bent at the waist, back as curved as the scythe he swung all day. His hands were always callused, and they often bled, and every night sleep stole him away no sooner than his cheek met the pillow.”

West With the Night – Beryl Markham, England

It’s a book I randomly picked in the bookstore one raining, humid summer afternoon in Shanghai. I like the feeling of either taking a nap when it’s stormy outside or hide in a bookstore lost in an interesting book. West with the night is that interesting book I picked. 

I have a weird obsession with Africa. I’ve been to places but haven’t set my foot in the land of that magic raw continent just yet. You must know that not because I can’t, it’s just one flight away from Dubai before, even now it’s just two international flights away. I want it to be like coming home, I want it to be special, that I am waiting for the perfect timing to go.

Or maybe there’s no such thing as perfect timing. Things happen in so many mysterious ways, and if we ask why all the time something happens, we’d banging our head to the wall until it bleeds, multi times already.

Beryl lived in Keyna with her father while her mother and brother stayed in England. Her father built her a “Bourgeois” cabin on the farm, she races horses and flies planes. She spent an adventurous childhood among native Africans and became the first licensed female horse trainer in Kenya.

I’ve watched the movie “Out of Africa” long ago, the movie is based on the memoir of Danish writer Karen Blixen.  I have to say the movie made the book so much more influential than Beryl’s book. But in so many ways, I loved this book far more than Out of Africa. Out of Africa is a love story, with West with the night, I can imagine Beryl, sit in the coach, in the cabin of Keyna, where she spent almost her whole life, slowly telling the story in her posh English accent,

“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”

Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte, England

I was a Charlotte Bronte fan, Jane Eyre was highly recommended when we are in school, and I love the book, I still have the CD of the 1943 version of the movie starred Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine. So from a young age to most of my teen years, I read this book religiously. I tried to read Wuthering Heights, the second sister’s book in my early teens but gave up pretty quickly, I thought it was too dark. What did I know then?

Fast forward to desert years, I read the book in English and completely fall in love. I grow love into this book day by day and that I thought it’s far better than Jane Eyre now. The sky was never clear throughout the entire book, and I loved it, my heart ached for Heathcliff and Cathy.  That love is rough; love is beyond death; love is to its eternity. When Heathcliff finally lay beside Cathy’s tomb, for the first time in forever, the sky of England finally starts to clear.

It’s definitely a book that you have to read after you gain some experience, in love and in life. I read this book every Christmas, with a cup of black coffee, no milk nor sugar.

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

Anil’s Ghost – Michael Ondaatje, Sri Lanka- Canada

Have you ever watched the heartbroken movie called “English patient”? You loved it?! Great, do you know who’s the writer of the original book?

Yes, Michael Ondaatje, Sri Lankan Canadian writer, who amazes me every day with his poetic writing. Anil’s Ghost is a love letter to his home country, the beautiful, troubled country, the pearl of the Indian Ocean.

I have a dear friend from Sri Lanka. She told me about the civil war, that she and her family have to fleed to Singapore and only moved back recently after the war ended. I was dying to know more about the history of the country and found this book.

I recently read it again.

By the Indian Ocean.

Although I read it at the beach, it’s definitely not a lighthearted book; you have to immerse yourself in it, it’s a book about love, identity, the history, the unknown enemy. “Who is this Sailor? Why is he here? What happened to him? How could we identify him if there’s only a skeleton left?”

I was never a fan of any ghost story, I’m way too sunflower for that, but this one, this one ghost, caught my eyes and caught my heart.

Do yourself a favor and pick up a copy now if you haven’t read it.

 “A person will walk through a hundred doors to carry out the whims of the dead, not realizing he is burying himself away from the others.”

 

I will stop here, for now, it’s 3:10 am and I do have a full day ahead of me with a lot of commitment. So better get some sleep:)

I hope you read the books and let me know how you feel about them!

All opinions my own. All photos by me shot everywhere.