Monthly Archives: September 2009

What I Thought I Knew by Alice Eve Cohen

So when I laid my hands on “What I Thought I Knew” (actually it was sent to me as I wanted a review copy), I read the synopsis and thought to myself: How different could this memoir be from the others that I have read? Each memoir consists of the same ingredients anyway (as though writers dish recipes out – freshly baked!), don’t they? I am glad that I was mistaken and proved wrong.

When I started reading the book, to be very honest I could not put it down and I am not just saying this because I received a review copy. I am saying this because though I am not a woman, I felt for Alice and what she was going through. More than that I guess I knew it was not easy for her and yet she was there – facing it all and emerged a different person.

Who would not? Imagine that you are a 44 year-old woman living life the way you are supposed to. Your career has never looked better. Your boyfriend and daughter seem the only world to you. Everyday seems like a blessing and that’s precisely when you think something will happen (its true, I completely agree with this theory)and it does. You feel your stomach turning hard and wonder what is wrong with me? You have been diagnosed as being infertile in the past and before you know it you are six months into pregnancy and without a clue.

I can’t begin to imagine what would have been my state had I been in that situation. To add to which you have a history of ailments in your family which could either endanger you or the baby. There is a lot to what meets the eye in the book and one has to only dig deeper while reading it. The emotions. The chaos. The battle at some point to take a stand and make a moral decision. The idea of loving a child, who may be you were not prepared for. Its true. How does one do it?

That’s the beauty of the book, according to me. It is real and honest. Alice does not mince her words or her feelings and I love that. It is a rollercoaster ride of emotions that all must venture to ride at least once. Go read it! It is brilliant.

The Sandman: Vol 2: The Doll’s House by Neil Gaiman

There are graphic novels and then there is The Sandman series. I remember the first time I read The Sandman series. It was a year and a half ago. My sisters’ boss had given it to her. It was the Absolute Sandman collection and I fell in love with Morpheus. With his aura. I wanted him. Its true. I did. And that’s how Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series enthralled me.

What is the Sandman Series all about?

The Dream King is captured (instead of his sister Death) by an evil rich man in the first volume, “Preludes and Nocturnes”, due to which the entire sleep and waking world is a mess. Imagine no dreams! Nothing to hold on to while you are asleep and while you are awake as well. With the Dream King his three essential tools are gone as well which he needs to claim to ensure that his world is no longer a mess.

As we go along his journey there are single stand alone chapters which have nothing to do with the plot and yet will soon unravel themselves in the following books like, “Tales in the Sand” and “The Sound of Her Wings”.

In the Doll’s house we are also taken in by Rose¬†Walker who is the Sandman’s vortex and if not stopped, then she will become the center of the Dreaming and cause it to collapse upon it self and it is but obvious Dream’s responsibility to kill her before this takes place. Amidst all this Rose has set out looking for her brother Jed, who is living in the cellar of his abusive uncle and aunt’s house.

I loved this Sandman volume the best as here is where we come to know what will happen and what has happened, besides the fact that you get to meet so many different characters. For instance there is the “Cereal Convention” with special guest lecturer the Corinthian, that makes us look at the fascination with serial killers and the final twist involving Desire gives the reader some insight into the relationship of Dream with his siblings. This book really shows what a truly original creation The Sandman is.