Shape The Pain Into Something Great

September was closed with a vengeance, and man, I must say that felt good. October has kicked off with cold temperatures and frosty cars, and even cleaning the floors beat going out of doors.

I finished reading The Gathering by Anne Enright. Throughout all if it my brain screamed at the top of it lungs: "How, oh HOW did this boring piece of sh*t win the Man Booker Prize?". Well, to be fair the ending wasn't half bad, it kind of took the whole disaster to a more elevated level, but still. What an endless yawn this was! Picked up White Male Heart by Ruaridh Nicoll last night, but I'm not sure what to make of it yet. Seems like it's a bit too much testosterone and guns for my liking, but let's see how it turns out.

Speaking of testosterone... the other day I arrived at the office, got into the elevator on the basement level, and expected no danger as the elevator halted on the first floor before continuing on to fourth where I work. Outside, however, stood three middle-aged men engaged in normal conversation... only, when they saw that the elevator was occupied by a woman they for some reason decided to double the volume of their discourse which suddenly took a turn into dirty jokes for the three floors I had to keep up with their company. I almost had to hold my ears (not exaggerating) and tell them to be quiet. When I arrived at my floor one of my (male) colleagues had tried to cook porridge in the microwave. Need I say more?

Now, I have not really turned into a man-hating monster over the last couple of days, but there's been a lot of gender focus lately. The MD of Audi in Finland got himself out of a job after making some rather outrageous statements in the media about how women are basically put on this earth to iron mens' shirts, give them blow jobs and wear high heels. It's ok if we want to work as long as we still remember to do those things. What bugs me is not that this bozo made ridiculous statements, but rather that his opinions have been long known in the car industry, but only when he made a big interview that could reflect badly on the precious Audi brand did it have any consequences. Double standard bullshit.

There. Got rid of some steam. I've washed the floors and moved things around and the apartment looks great. Forgot to do it wearing seven inch heels. Damnit, I guess I'm not much of a woman after all...

"You and I make a lovely shape,
two circles cubed draw a number 8."
Cloud Cult - 2x2x2 (The Meaning Of 8, 2007)

I Just Can't Seem To Get Enough

Books, books, books, books, the world is thankfully full of books. I've tried to do my share of reading them this summer, although I definitely could've done more.

First out was Paul Auster's Oracle Night. I have a thing for Auster, no need to dwelve into that again, but this book was not as good as some of the others I've read. Again he shows the astonishing ability his mind has to come up with story upon story upon story, but some of them never land. I want to know what happens to the guy in the shelter! Nevertheless it kept me entertained throughout.

Auster's Man in the Dark was next book out, and disappointingly it had a bit of the same problem. Don't get me wrong, both are still good books, they are just not _quite_ up there with what he can do. With this one I far preferred the initial spin on the story than the actual conclusion. Also, it's a bit too American for me, this one.

I then finally summoned the guts to finish James Bradley's The Resurrectionist. Christ, what a piece of sh*t book this was... I've even mooched it away since, that's how little I liked it. The story is thin, the characters inpossible to care for, and the end is simply a loose-end laughing matter. Where on earth critics get off calling this a gothic horror masterpiece is beyond me, they are probably friends of the author...

After moaning and whining about the poor quality of the previous book for several days, Florentin decided I should read The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger which he had just read and loved. This book I have avoided buying at several occassions because other books have caught my attention more and I have for some reason boxed it away in the same category as The Observations (by Jane Harris, which was to be fair quite good in the end), but I had no real issues with wanting to read it. Good girl! Very lovely, this book. It managed to keep me fully alerted throughout the story, and I cried at the end. That very rarely happens with me and books, so ten thumbs up and just go ahead and read it. Florentin loved it too, if you're worried it's a girls' book. And once you've read it we can discuss the one thing I _didn't_ like about it, but I won't spoil it for you by writing it here.

While I read about time-hoppers, Florentin plowed through one of the books I brought with me, Let The Northern Lights Erase Your Name by Vendela Vida (neat name, huh?). This Finnish author living in America has written a story about a woman who follows her mother's history to the Sami areas of Finland and Norway, and by tracing her roots changes as a human being. Well... it's the first I've read by a Finnish author. I think that's about it. The main character did grow on me, but it took a long time and I still didn't get to love her enough for it to matter that the book ended. Ok'ish read, I'd say. It has a bit of a feministic twist to it that was quite interesting.

Sami stories gave way to Auster again. In The Country Of Last Things was the second of his novels I had with me on our roadtrip, and it didn't take me long to read. Here he's back with full force again, weaving his story in a straight, brutal line through an imagined city that may or may not exist not too far off in our future. If I could, I would happily have punched a couple of the characters the leading lady encounters along her way. Actually it's a shame this one wasn't longer.

In Zurich I found an English bookstore where I picked up Gaiman's Coraline, but I haven't started it yet. I also bought PopCo by Scarlett Thomas, the author of the previously hailed The End of Mr Y. I loved that one, and I loved this one. Similar in the manner of writing, the story is nevertheless quite different. Anti-corporation, pro-vegan, clever and funny, I'd definitely recommend it as a good read. I'd even say it might be the math version of Mr Y, which is more humanistic in it's twists and turns.

Having just finished PopCo a couple of days ago, I've now picked up The Gathering by Anne Enright. This one won the Booker prize in 07, and I got it for my birthday from a friend the same year, I've just been slow in picking it up. Doesn't seem quite like a book I'd normally love yet, but I'll review it after finishing.

"When I'm with you, baby,
I go out of my head.
I just can't get enough,
I just can't get enough."
Depeche Mode - Just Can't Get Enough (Speak And Spell, 1981)
Depeche Mode are playing Helsinki in February, and I've got tickets, baby :D

Fill It With Devils And Dust

Today I finally finished Jane Eyre. After a couple of weeks of relentless social activity I took the afternoon to myself to sit down with the book in the sun and finish off this peculiar story. Although I am often puzzled at how little is taught of English classics in Nordic schools, I must admit there is a certain pleasure in being able to read books like this, Wuthering Heights and Sense and Sensibility without knowing how they will end.

I fell a little bit in love with Jane, but she does sometimes carry on something chronic about trivialities that made me wish she would just get on with it! Might not have been a good idea to not read any modern literature between Wuthering Heights and this one. I will now disappear back into the wonderful arms of Paul Auster for a few days, as I've recently completed my collection of his works and hence have a book or two (as if I didn't already have more than fifty unread waiting) to get through.

Movies watched:
Madame Bovary (the 1949 adaption) - Good, very good. What a horrible hag of a woman, though! Selfish to the end. Hoping for a fairytale ending my ass, what about taking responsibility for your own putrid actions?

La Dolce Vita - Ah, I hate Fellini. Sure, Ekberg was gorgeous, but this movie is just one big yawn of an exhausted attempt at being interesting.

Rocket Science - Not really what I had expected, and I'm no big fan of the leading chick. The leading boy does his job well enough, though, and I got a couple of laughs from it although I kinda think I wasn't really supposed to laugh at those moments.

"What if what you do to survive kills the things you love?"
Bruce Springsteen - Devils And Dust (Devils & Dust, 2005)

Let Me In Your Window

Another busy week is drawing to an end, and Finland has finally caught up with the summer time adjustment. That means I have one hour less to get through the sh*tload of stuff I have to do today, but I guess that could easily be remedied by me not writing blog posts, so there shall be no more moaning about that.

I went to Oslo on business on Friday, and had agreed with Hanne that I'd spend a night at her place. We had a very nice evening with wine, thai food, bad tv and catching up, and I'm really looking forward to having her over for Easter. (Many Finns seem to think the name of this holiday is Eastern, not sure why or if they think it has anything to do with the direction.)

Last night Sebastian's birthday party was celebrated with a lot of noise and little sense. Because I value the way my head is attached to my neck, I'll refrain from posting many pictures, but this one of a headbanging Miia kind of sums up the general splendor of it all.

Yesterday I finished reading Wuthering Heights. I don't know why I thought this book would be along the lines of Austen's romantic works, because it's not at all. I knew little about this book apart from the fact that Kate Bush wrote her first hit based on it, with one of the world's most misheard lyrics. I have to say that although getting through it takes a lot of alone time, it is worth the effort. Some books are classics because someone decided they should be, but this one is a good book. Am going to work my way through Jane Eyre next, I might as well do the Brontë sisters properly while I'm at it.

Finland was again seized by winter and cold yesterday, but now it seems the badness is melting away quickly. I can't wait for it to be warm enough for long Sundays on a blanket in the park with a great book and music in my ears. The indoors life is getting to me this year, I feel restless and kind of like I'm in danger of wasting precious time. My limbs need a good stretch, my skin some warmth, and my mind a bit of sun :)

Oh, and I need blinder curtains and a volunteer to hang them for me!

"Out on the winding, windy moors,
we'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy,
too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me
when I needed to possess you?
I hated you, but loved you, too."
Kate Bush - Wuthering Heights (The Kick Inside, 1978)

If God Leant His Voice For Me To Speak

After The Keep, I started reading The Name of the Wind, a fantasy thing by Patrick Rothfuss. This took me more than a month to finish, as it is simply not a very good book. The story did manage to get me interested at some point during my flight to Seattle, and from then on it was smooth sailing, but you shouldn't have to force yourself through a hundred pages to get to such a point. He has a Tolkien thing going on (he thinks), and then he mixes in all kinds of D&D weirdness. Worst thing is it's just the first book of a series, so I don't even know how the story ends.

A few days into my stay in Seattle, I was very happy to pick up the next chapter in my growing obsession with Paul Auster. Having read his Travels in the Scriptorium and The Book of Illusions, I had great hopes for Timbuktu. Aaaand, he scores! Mr. Bones is the canine companion of slightly deranged (and homeless) Willy G. Christmas, who has come down with a rather unfortunate case of being about to die from some lung related ugliness.

Now, this is no ordinary mutt we're talking about here, Mr. Bones _knows_ what's going on. He understands human language, he thinks human language, and he remembers all the things you would expect a man's best friend to recollect. Unfortunately, the world doesn't always look upon homeless doggies with the kindest of eyes, and his life turns into a veritable whirlwind of difficult circumstances. If you, like me, believe dogs to have souls and minds of their own, and even better, if you enjoy other pieces of Auster's authorship, there's no need to think twice about picking up this book.

This evening I believe I will be able to finish Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights. No, I never read it when I was in school. Yes, it is bleak and depressing. Yes, I still like it.

I had another run-in with my old friend Insomnia last night, one of the worst encounters in years. I undoubtedly added to the severity of it by drinking coffee too late in the evening, after giving up on the drink months ago for this very reason. The result was lying awake until 04:30 in the morning, when I finally drifted off just to wake up three hours later in horrible shape for this morning's meetings.

"If I had one wish fulfilled tonight,
I'd ask for the sun to never rise.
If God leant his voice for me to speak,
I'd say "Go to bed, world."."
The Cardigans - 03.45: No Sleep (Long Gone Before Daylight, 2003)

Make Me A Pretty Person

The music disorder continues. After Mayer I had a brief flirt with The Corrs' 2000 album In Blue, followed by days of Tom Waits collection The Asylum Years, and then last night my eyes fell on Garbage's Version 2.0 (1998). This record was one of two (the other one was NiN's Downward Spiral) that in -98 broke me out of my Celine Dion era and into what developed into my taste in music. I was introduced to both by my high school sweetheart Eivind, so I guess I owe him one or two(alternatively he owes me the thousands of Euros I have standing around in the form of records ;)).

The main reason for loving Version 2.0 was, of course, the lyrics. I like Garbage in general, but this was my introduction to them. When I Grow Up, Push It, The Trick Is To Keep Breathing, Sleep Together and You Look So Fine were regular parts of my soundtrack for years, and I guess I'd still throw The Trick Is To Keep Breathing and Sleep Together in there for good old times' sake. I also had a minor thing for Shirley Manson at some point. Not sure why - in the video for Push It she shoves her entire fist into her mouth, and that's really not very sexy. Apparently she is now acting in a TV series called Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (a bit disturbing), and she's done a duet with previously mentioned Gavin Rossdale as well as an unreleased Human League cover with Marilyn Manson. Interesting trivia indeed!

This week has been a mess. Tuesday and Wednesday I was supposed to spend the days in Financial Awareness training, which I was looking forward to as it presented a welcomed break from business planning. Tuesday was great, but on Wednesday morning I had to excuse myself to make a phone call, and after taking ten steps all hell broke loose. The planet was spinning, I couldn't breathe, and suddenly I was on the second floor and just plain ill. Spent the rest of the day and Thursday at home.

Thursday evening I braved the exhaustedness to take a 13 people Movie Night to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and boy am I glad I did. I expected it to be an ok movie, I like Brad Pitt and have no problems with Cate Blanchett, but this I just did not see coming. The movie is beautiful! Some of the scenes are so gorgeous they will break your heart and mend it all at once. Definitely recommendable, both men and women will like the film (not only because of the lead actors and how beautifully they have been airbrushed, but because it's a really good story).

I've finished four knitting projects this week (I shit you not, ladies and gentlemen), including two pairs of socks that have been laying around since spring. I've also finished reading The Keep by Jennifer Egan, a book that really did not live up to expectations. An inmate at state prison starts taking a writing class, and falls in love with the teacher. He has a weird cell mate who listens to dead people in a carton he believes to be a spiritual radio. Or is the book actually about an ancient castle somewhere in Europe where a bunch of Americans are disturbing the peace by attempting to turn it into a hotel? I did not find it boring, don't get me wrong, it's just not... very memorable.

As mentioned, some weeks ago I also finished Breaking Dawn, a copy of which I finally secured after dragging Deb a bit around Akademiska. The disapproving of its twists and turns sounds a bit hypocritical of me - I claim to like fiction, but do not approve of books taking twists and turns outside my liking? Well, that might be so, but there you have it. I do not approve.

This morning I will gather together some material for a new knitting project and set course to Vantaa to hook up with Deb. Am still quite exhausted from the week, so I have a feeling that will be about it from me this weekend. Next week is business plan hearing and I think there'll be some late nights. Might ditch Movie Night to have an evening for myself, but then again that might change as there are many critically acclaimed movies on at the moment.

"Darling,
how would it feel?"
Garbage - Sleep Together (Version 2.0, 1998)

Split Screen Sadness

The Spirit was not very good. Although visually quite interesting, the story, the dialogue and the characters were mostly horrible. I'll not say the actors did a poor job, because I seriously doubt anyone could've lifted this film from the deepest sinkholes of misery.

Last night Movie Night went to see Valkyrie, Tom Cruise's take on German resistance during WWII. I'm not a big fan of war related movies as they usually make me cry, and although for a different reason this movie didn't do much to win me over. First of all, it's extremely Hollywood'y, and the British/American/Australian accents of the German soldiers made that studio production feel stronger. Most of my dislike comes from my imagination, however. I like not knowing how things will end. Both books and movies only really grip me when they speak to my "could've been". This one did, of course, not. Fiction, not facts, is where I get my kicks :)

It again seems to me I'm living from weekend to weekend, the workdays flying by in a grainy mist. During the course of this week I've finally managed to get my March trip to Seattle ok'd by my manager, and can't wait to see Quinn again. I've also made a request for a full month of vacation during summer, as I want to go to South America and want to do it properly.

I've started using the gym downstairs at work (ok, me and Kjersti have only been once so far, but my muscles are really sore and we're going back tomorrow), and finished reading Breaking Dawn. The story took some weird twists and turns and ended up in something I don't really approve of, and hence I am pleased to say I am for now cured of my Twilight saga obsession. Wouldn't mind getting me a bit of Carlisle, but I guess I'll have to stick with real-life people instead.

Music wise I am still not moving in any sort of alphabetical direction. The other day my eyes fell upon John Mayer's Heavier Things (2003) in my shelves. Can't remember where or when I bought it, but I know I never listened to it. Although I can't say I see what women like Jennifer Love Hewitt, Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Aniston see in this man as far as his looks are concerned, this record is quite good. Split Screen Sadness has me on a massive repeat roll that I expect to last for another couple of days.

Be nice to each other, you guys. If there's an afterlife you don't want to spend it paying for all the bad karma you've accumulated by making other people feel sad.

"I'll check the weather wherever you are
'cause I want to know if you can see the stars tonight."
John Mayer - Split Screen Sadness (Heavier Things, 2003)

This Is Love, This Is Porn

I am still the busiest of bees, and still enjoying it :)

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas was a good movie, very true to the book. My friend Paul had seen it with his son the day before Movie Night, and warned me I would probably cry - which I off course did. Loads! It was worth it, though. Tomorrow I'm taking Movie Night to see The Spirit, and although the reviews have been rather poor I'm really looking forward to it!

Saturday I met up with Deb, whom I hadn't seen for weeks, for Bar 9 lemon chicken and knitting, before I went to Melody's house warming party in Espoo in the evening. Due to another engagement (real ale festival in Gallow's Bird), the stop at her place was cut rather short, but it was a lovely apartment and full of a lot of lovely people :)

The ale festival was a lot of fun and nonsense, with Dave, David and Dave's friend Stefan. David turned into a pumpkin around midnight, whereas I proceeded to get my brain well pickled and spent all of Sunday trying to get out of bed (no success).

This week I've so far completed my input in the first business plan submission, hamburgerized with Lotta, and finished reading Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. I have the Hugh Grant version of the movie, but it only works halfway and hence I never knew how it ended. Such a charming story! And so funny! It is normally regarded as inferior to Pride and Prejudice, which I now cannot wait to get started with. Have to read Breaking Dawn first, though, so no social activities for me this weekend :)

"And I wanna hear what you have to say about me!
Hear if you're gonna live without me!
I wanna hear what you want...
What the hell do you want?"
Damien Rice - I Remember (O, 2002)

I Love To Hate You

I am so busy! We're in the middle of the BP09 process, and at the same time I'm juggling two other major projects, _and_ have to keep in mind I still want to fit into these skirts of mine two weeks from now everytime I walk into a store!

The last couple of weeks have been great, with the exception of a nasty flu that jumped up and bit me. It died away by Wednesday last week, but then on Friday it returned full force and it still hasn't really let go. Only had to stay away from work for one day, though, so it hasn't been half bad with the exception of totally losing my voice in Dave's house warming party and as a result sounding like I was strung out on bad whiskey the entire evening :)

I've had a couple of lemon chicken incidents, one involving spontanious post-drunkedness with Dave and Sebastian, two yarn shopping trips, one knitting group introduction (scary), two seasons of Friends, a couple of football games, burger bonanza with Lotta and way too little sleep. It didn't make anything better that I started to read the Stephenie Meyer vampire books last Thursday, starting with Twilight, continuing with New Moon and then finally last night I finished Eclipse. For some reason I thought there were only three of them, and hence I am now on a mission to secure Breaking Dawn. And if the story doesn't end there, I'll freaking kill someone!

They are quite good, by the way. Not Nobel prize winning material, but then again, they _are_ vampire books. Easily read, and some of the characters are easily loved. Oh, and there is no cheesy sex. Some tension, but no sex at all, in fact. At least not in the first three books. Always admirable when it's vampire stories we're talking about.

On that subject (Meyer's stories, not sex), I am going to see the film adaptation of Twilight with Movie Night tomorrow. Thursday the Nordic dealer board is visiting for the day, and we'll go out for dinner in the evening. Friday I might go to my first Synapsi, if my four o'clock head dresser visit doesn't exhaust me completely. And then; weekend :D

Just to make one thing clear; The title of this post is not in reference to anyone I know or don't know, it just happens to be one of my favorite songs and Erasure is on my mind today. Life's good, my friends :)

"Love and hate, what a beautiful combination."
Erasure - Love To Hate You (Chorus, 1991)

And We're Dancing...

Work is crazy at the moment - we have some kick-ass campaigns running and they have to be tracked on a daily basis. A lot of Excels flying around, as always :)

When reviewing books a couple of posts down I completely forgot about Milan Kundera's Slowness. I don't know whether I should be appalled or relieved that the genious that delivered The Unbearable Lightness of Being is also capable of producing such utter nonsense as this book, but I'll chew it over some more. I read it before I started McEwan's The Comfort of Strangers, and man, was that a change of pace. Kundera "follows" a real time couple staying in a French chateau hotel, where the man imagines up the story of two other couples, one real time and one from times long past. The story's feeble attempts on sensuality, eroticism and rawness fall dead at his feet, and it was a waste of time to read through. Don't spend money on it.

Following my week in London/Oslo I've spent a lot of good time with friends, and I've managed to plan my Christmas. I'll be going to Sweden to spend a week at the farm, and I am _so_ much looking forward to it! I will surely miss my dog who passed away last year, but it will be good to spend some time with my family.

Before going on holiday I finished The End of Mr Y by Scarlett Thomas. Being a metaphysical exercise in supernatural disguise, this book was right down my alley and I was sad to turn the last page. The story follows a Ph.D. student who stumbles upon a book not meant for reading, and it throws her into a veritable whirlwind of issues to be handled in a matrix outside the normal level of consciousness. If you tend to go for real life, down to earth stories, this is not for you, but if your mind likes to dabble in more philosophical questions with a great story attached you should like it.

My first vacation read (of many) was The Dream of a Beast by Neil Jordan. Blah. Very hot summer in the city, greenery everywhere and soldiers in the streets. Boring office worker transforms into something different, something vile that causes his wife to throw him out of his home. Time overlaps and he's dating his daughter? Then he lives on a roof, sleeps in a rug and hangs out with bats in the elevator. Weirdness gets worse, he drowns a kid (I think) and suddenly he's back with his wife? I gave up on this story mid-way. Might make an interesting screenplay, but as a book it's somewhat of a waste of time and energy to try to figure out.

Better luck with The Lamplighter by Anthony O'Neill. My mother commented on the good looks of the author, and although I hardly think that has anything to do with the state of things I have to admit her right. He's a looker. The book is a good, old-fashioned detective story with a supernatural twist. The bodies of men slaughetered in the most wicked of ways keep turning up in 19th century Edinburgh, and the crimes are attempted solved by a pompous detective on one side, a metaphysics professor and his friend the graveyard watchman on the other. And sides is the main word here, as it becomes clear that the events can all be linked to the young Evelyn Todd and her long-time buddy Leerie. A good vacation read, and in particular one for long, cold winter nights.

Next stop on the reading bus route was Roddy Doyle's The Snapper. For an anglofile like myself, the dialogue of this book is spot on. If you have problems with reading Irish dialect, however, you'll stumble and fall from the get-go. The cover boasts that this book is "rip-snorting funny", and although I didn't really like the sound of that to begin with I have to sign myself up as a believer. Sharon Rabitte gets pregnant out of wedlock, and not entirely by own will. The book follows her in the process of relaying the information to her family and friends, and watches the mayhem that unfolds when speculation around the identity of the baby's father kicks off in the local community. Although the subject matter of the story is not something I'd normally recommend for a good read, I laughed out loud enough times in public places while reading this book to give it a good rate.

Visiting Porsgrunn I picked up a bunch of books from my mother's bookstore, Susan Hill's The Man in the Picture being one of them. I read her The Woman in Black last year, and _loved_ it. This woman can really write an old fashioned ghost story, like the ones I used to love as a child. The Man in the Picture is not as good as The Woman in Black, but still a good read about the powers of an old Venetian oil painting and the characters in it. It's a straight up, no fuzz, old style ghost story.

Phew!

David Guterson's Our Lady of the Forest has been with me since my February London visit, and it now returned to the English capitol to finally be read. 16 year-old Ann Holmes is a rather messed up and unlikely candidate for Marian apparitions, but alas, she stumbles upon Our Good Lady on a mushroom picking walk. The mother of Jesus gives her a list of instructions, and the quest to make herself believed and to build a church in the woods begins. In the process she is helped (or is she?) by the non-believing, pot smoking Carolyn and the local Catholic priest, and you get an interesting view of how Catholic fundamentalists can go a bit overboard. I'm happy I read the book, but wouldn't recommend that you go out of your way to get it.

Hellraiser creator Clive Barker released his latest novel, Mr B Gone, in 2007. It's the first book by him I've read, and I started it on an extremely cold night at Holmen Fjordhotell in Asker. The setting was just right for Barker's story about the minor demon Jakabok, fished out of Hell by a group of vile demon hunters and launched into the wicked world of man. He falls in love, creates havoc, messes with angels, and it would seem he in the end gets trapped in a book. Well, shit happens. It's an entertaining read, but not much more than that.

Shine On

Apoptygma Berzerk (I still haven't been able to get out of the A's in my listening project) covered The House of Love's '87 hit Shine On on their cover album Sonic Diary (06). It's a _very_ addictive track! That aside, this is a book post. As mentioned a couple of posts down, I managed to get back on the reading horse a while ago, and my progress is mind boggling at the moment.

Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived In The Castle was a bit of a disappointment. I don't really know what I expected from it - more of an adventure, I suppose, but instead I got a rather grim story about prejudice and bullying in a small US town. Don't get me wrong, it's not a _bad_ book, it was just not what I wanted to get out of it.

After finishing Jackson's outbursts, I read the third and last book in Maxence Fermine's color series. I loved Snow, which is the first one, so much I immediately had to buy the other two once I'd finished it. The Black Violin was not as good as that one, but still a good read. The final book dealt with yellow, The Beekeeper. As with The Black Violin, I can not say I was blown away by it, but it was closer to what I loved about Snow. I'd recommend Snow to anyone, but you can easily live without the last two books.

After The Beekeeper I picked up a couple of Ian McEwan novels and took them with me to Norway for the weekend. I've previously read The Innocent and the short-story collection Between The Sheets by this author, and off course I've seen Atonement (not yet read it, though). But The Comfort of Strangers. Fucking hell! (Sorry about that.)

The reviews on the cover likens McEwan to a skilled torturer barely allowing his readers a moment of relief before drowning them in darker despair. I have never, ever agreed more with a review. This story is, from beginning to end, impossible to not get carried away with, and upon reaching the conclusion I physically shrank into a tiny pinpoint in the Gardermoen airport, emanating what I assume was a pretty tragic sound as the world collapsed on the pages. (Metaphorically speaking, it's not about the end of days or anything...) I'll not give away the story line, but if you're up for a quick read sure to keep you entertained, this is the book for you.

The second McEwan book I took with me to Norway I almost did not want to read, as I was totally exhausted after the previous one. For You turned out to be quite clever, not so much in the story it tells, as in the way it is told. The book is built up in the form of a libretto, where the characters narrate their way through a rather tragic story. Because of the way it is built, you get very little insight to the inner lives of the characters, but it's an interesting experiment and very quick read. I think it took me 25 minutes to get through, if even that.

Leaving McEwan for a while, I dug into The End of Mr Y by Scarlett Thomas, a book I bought quite some time ago, but have been looking forward to read. After the long procession of realistic characters in my previous reads, it is very nice to once again sink back into the arms of fantastic story telling where there are no laws or rules binding the universe to its normal behaviour. I've read about two thirds of it, and am hoping to finish it tomorrow. Will write a more in depth review when I return from London, no doubt with four-five more books I want to comment on :)

The Passenger Seat

Day 2 of Elektrostat was not quite en par with the first night, but still very good. Highlights of the evening were definitely In Vein, with great sound and a new song, and Front 242 who rounded off the evening. We were all very grateful to Henrik for providing such a good line-up on his birthday ;-p

Sunday I finished reading The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas by John Boyne in Gardemoen airport, and man, was that a bad idea. Cried my eyes out and proceeded to board the plane looking like shit had hit the fan in a big way. Exceptionally good book, however, I found myself hoping and hoping so hard throughout the pages that things would turn out well, and the storyline takes several surprising twists. It is narrated by a nine year old boy whose family gets relocated through the work of his father, a commander in Hitler's Germany. It's also coming out on the silver screen soon, but I'd strongly recommend you read the book. It's a quick read that will stay with you.

I'm on a good reading roll in general, just finished reading Paul Auster's The Book of Illusions last week. It's about a writer who loses his family in an airplane crash, and how writing a book about a silent movie comedian from the 20's takes him out of his comfort zone and brings him back to life. The dialogue is brilliant, and written in a way I've not seen done before. At first glance it seems a bit difficult to follow, but the characters are so extremely well defined in your mind that the story is easy to follow. A truly brilliant piece of story telling that really gripped me, and I found every inch of me screaming for it to end well.

Am now reading We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. It's been standing on my shelf for more than a year, so it's about time I got started on a proper reading spree again. So far it is not really what I expected, without that being a bad thing. Will review further once I've finished it.

My CD listening project is going rather well, although I am now stuck on Tori Amos and have been for a week or so. Alphaville also kept me busy for a number of days before that. To complicate things I've just received the latest Snow Patrol record from Amazon, and expect to be sidetracked by that one for a while. Not easy, this focusing on one thing business!

The last couple of weeks were in general horribly depressing and shitty, but things are picking up. I saw The Lake House on Monday, with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves, and although there was a serious logical flaw in the ending it was surprisingly good. Tuesday brought lemon chicken in Bar 9 with Deb and Quinn, and last night I went for Chico's dinner with Lotta. Today I'm taking Movie Night to see the new Bond movie, which will hopefully be a treat, and on Saturday I'm heading off to Tampere again, this time with Deb and a bunch of knitters.

Next week takes me to Oslo again for two days of work, and that'll go on for the overseeable future. I'm taking the first week of December off work to go to London and hang out with my brother, and am hoping to hook up with some friends and drink lots of ale while I'm there.

How Can I Sleep With Your Voice In My Head?

The clocks turned back last night. An hour gained. How lovely wouldn't it be if that was true?
I have twenty Powerpoint slides that need polishing before I can head over to Vantaa and catch a flight that hopefully will not fall down in this lovely (read: icy, sideways rain) weather we're having.

After not sleeping most of the night I finally finished Sartre's Nausea this morning. It is a remarkable work of literature, and I believe I will at some point want to read it again. I strongly admire the strength with which the author must have entered into the ever growing panic of his main character. And I really wish I did not feel such affinity to Anny.

Silence Is Not The Way

As I was heading out to meet Deb and David last Saturday, I was drawn in to (completely against my will, off course) one of Helsinki's many antiquarians to rummage around a while in their philosophy shelf. Ended up with a Swedish version of Sartre's Nausea and Simone de Beauvoir's Adieux. I never, and I repeat; never, put a book down before I've finished to start reading another one, but that evening I found myself well into Nausea even though I haven't even read through the first chapter of Auster's Book of Illusions. Strange indeed.

I love the book, though. Sartre writes about depression triggered anxiety in a way so tangible you can almost feel it on your skin. Although I have never experienced the extreme distance at which the main character finds himself from his surroundings and the physical distress caused by it, I recognize the idea of how I am with relationships sometimes. Daily life can just sometimes seem so far away from where you are mentally it almost disgusts you. Even the people you know and love can be so estranged, so contaminated by the "otherness" of everything.

What is undeniably good about Nausea is how its qualities as a novel does not suffer from its authors philosophical musings. And, it has got me sidetracked. The last time I was dragged off by a work of philosophy it took me halfway through a degree in comparative religion - and wouldn't you know it - Sartre has put me back on track. My enrollment at UiO is still valid, and yesterday I was lured back in by their tempting course plan and am once again a registered student. Bless my soul.

One of the saddest thing that I ever saw (was smokers outside the hospital doors) was the deaf wing of the Gaustad mental hospital in Norway. The hospital is located in a beautiful, old red brick factory-like complex north of the city centre, where vines cling to the walls and you just want to lay in the grass and watch the clouds. Why does a mental hospital have an own deaf wing? I understand that they will need a different type of care, but this place is huge. Do depressed people hurt themselves and go deaf, or are people separated from others by lack of hearing more prone to depression? I won't try to figure this out as I am not at all qualified to do so, but the thought breaks my heart. If you go to Oslo, you should visit.

Want II

This morning I remembered why I stopped going to the JD weekly welcome on Wednesdays months ago. Hopefully it'll stick this time around. New colleague Kjersti was introduced to a couple of outside-of-work people, and it was all good fun. After a couple of weeks of insane work load and little sleep I am, however, feeling relatively tired at the moment. The weekend will be good, I just have to stay awake for Bruce first - going to see him in Helsinki with Deb, David and Paul tomorrow.

My Monday in Geneva was good, it was my first time on Swiss soil and I will definitely go back with some more time to see the country. Nature wise it is off course very similar to Norway, but the architecture got me really interested. There are so many places to go, so little time to do it in!

I want to listen to PJ Harvey's C'mon Billy and sing along so loud it rattles the windows. I also want to go to Newcastle and drink beer. And to get a new dog... I know I thought I'd never get one again, but I so miss the company of one, maybe I'll cave in and compromise with a cat. With this working schedule a dog would be miserable with me. On the other hand, even feline companions need a bit more stability than I can offer. *sigh* I need a pet, any volunteers?

I finished reading After Dark, and although I'm not totally sold on the author it was entertaining enough and I'll remember it for a while. After that I read Tideland by Mitch Cullins on various flights all over the place, and loved it. It's about a girl who gets dragged off to the middle of nowhere with her junkie father and how her over-active imagination spins an alternative perception of reality around her to shield her from what's going on. Rather brutal, and not at all the cute fairy tale story I was half expecting. Definitely recommendable.

Am now reading Paul Auster's The Book of Illusions - this is my second encounter with the author after reading Travels in the Scriptorium over New Year's. Loved that one, and have high hopes for this one as well. So far it's promising, I like his style and have already found a quote from it that I'll keep, a kind of meditation on silence. Which reminds me, I'd like to read Gibran's The Prophet again, maybe that's next. Have so many unread books waiting, though.

Type 0's October Rust found it's way to me again, and is my current in-the-car entertainment. Have also started listening to music in the office to shield myself while working with the new tool I'm developing. So far Sweden is totally sold on it, so it seems I had the right idea. Have to roll it out to the other markets, but that's next week's project on top of everything else that's going on.

After five years working with distribution I've almost forgotten how it feels to have a learning curve like this. Almost everything I do I've never done before, it's sink or swim in the extreme. Although I complain about not having enough hours in the day I have to admit I'm loving it. I wonder what I'll be capable of when I emerge on the other side of it all, and how it'll change my perspective and dreams. And, will it make me a better person? Or just really fed up with Excel? :)

I am now going home to sleep and water my poor ferns. Go to bed, world :)

Did You Come Here To Play Jesus?

I am coaching my best friend through his process of finding a new job after ten years in more or less the same business. An interesting exercise, especially the part where someone you know very well is selling themselves based on qualities you are not really familiar with. I'm sure we'll land him with a kickass job, though :)

On my side I'm having a weird week at work, and as the end of the month, which this time around is also the end of the quarter, is drawing near, my stress levels are off course increasing rapidly. Am very much looking forward to the weekend, with the Pride parade and time to relax before closing up the quarter and going to Arvika with Lotta next week.

Went to see Dogville in the SEA movie archive theatre yesterday, and it was still very good. I like the rawness of it, how von Trier has picked up on what he perceives to be parts of every single human being that we can not escape from. With Tom, you all the way through feel he's a bit off in the head, but Chuck... coming off as the rough, but basically good, could be-hero who in the end also gives in to the same impulses and disgusting animal behaviours he so hates the other inhabitants for. And I love the end. I think that's what it all comes down to, we are what we are, and in the end it surfaces to the world no matter how well we manage to hide it from ourselves. There is beauty in everything, but once people start messing each other up we all have the same capacity for ugliness.

I finished Chuck Palahniuk's Lullaby on my Oslo trip last week. I was not totally blown away by the author's genious, but I rather liked the story. It has been praised for the ridiculous amount of story ideas he manages to squeeze out throughout the pages, but to me this rather seems a bit unfocused. It's like he's trying to cover up for lacking something by showing off his enormous imagination. That said, this is a good book. I love the turn it takes towards the end, although it didn't manage to take me completely by surprise. Recommendable.

In Gardermoen I realized Lullaby was coming to an end, and proceeded to go on a massive shopping spree in the airport bookstore. Ended up with a total of 9 titles (taking my to read-list to 50+ titles), one of which I started reading on the flight. After Dark by Haruki Murakami is my attempt to familiarize myself with an author I've been dodging for quite some years, although friends have recommended Norwegian Wood and Kafka on the Shore. It is a little bit too artsy for my taste - but on the plus side the similarities to Auster's style in Travels in the Scriptorium are strong. I'm only half way through, and if it picks up a bit I will revise my verdict at a later stage. Last minute turns seem to be the trend with everything I touch at the moment, so you never know :)

Today I am going to do zip. Nada. When I get home I will open a beer, sit on my balcony and enjoy the silence.