A Blog on Books

Inherent Vice was my first exposure to the literary world of Thomas Pynchon. Funnily enough, I had never even heard of him before. But now that I have, I feel like I see his name everywhere—especially in conversations involving my all-time favourite author, Cormac McCarthy. I discovered Inherent Vice through the film adaptation, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson. In my opinion, PTA is one of—if not the —best directors ever. That said, if you've seen his adaptation of Inherent Vice , you’ll know it’s quite a strange film. Even as a huge PTA fan, I found it to be a bit of a head-scratcher when I first watched it. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t leave it feeling confused and lost in the haze of what was going on. That is—until I read the novel. A Trippy Detective Story That Makes More Sense in Print Reading Pynchon’s book helped everything click. I haven’t had the chance to rewatch the film in full since finishing the novel, but I can’t wait ...

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood ended up being one of the most surprising and engaging reading experiences I’ve had in a while—and it’s a reminder of why going into a book with an open mind is so important. When this book was assigned for an English class I took last semester, I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic. By the time we got to The Handmaid’s Tale , I was still wrapping up the previous reading and hadn’t yet started it. The class discussions had already begun, and hearing everyone talk about the book without having read it made it hard to connect. The conversations themselves didn’t help much either—they felt predictable and surface-level, mostly revolving around modern politics and women's rights. These are obviously important topics, but the way they were being discussed felt like something I’d already heard many times before in previous English classes. At that point, I hadn’t cracked open the book, so I wasn’t giving it a fair chance. Eventually, I caught up and...

Child of God is horrific. It’s fantastic. And it’s one of the most disturbing books I’ve ever read. People love to talk about Blood Meridian as Cormac McCarthy ’s darkest and most disturbing work, and while it certainly is, Child of God affected me far more. I think part of that is because Blood Meridian is an epic—its violence feels distant, almost mythological. As readers, we’re pulled back, observing Glanton’s gang from afar. Even the protagonist, "the kid," remains nameless; his identity doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. This narrative distance makes the horror feel abstract, part of something larger. But Child of God is different. It’s intensely personal. We are trapped with Lester Ballard, forced to witness his descent in an uncomfortably intimate way. This difference isn’t a flaw in Blood Meridian —it’s by design. But for me, it made Child of God feel so much more brutal, for lack of a better word. As much as this book disturbed me, I also loved it. N...

South of the Border, West of the Sun. What a beautiful novel — and what a beautiful title. This is the second book I’ve read by Haruki Murakami, the first being Norwegian Wood . I can’t lie, I’m not sure which one I prefer. When I read Norwegian Wood in January, I knew it was something special. I didn’t think anything would come close to topping it. And yet, South of the Border, West of the Sun is right there with it. It’s incredible. From what I’ve seen on Goodreads, this book is a lot more divisive. Some people hate it. I am here to tell you they are flat-out wrong! The one complaint that people have is that the main character, Hajime, is not a great person. Am I missing something here? Since when did the characters in stories have to be good people? That is the entire point of this novel. To me, it's like watching the movie There Will Be Blood , and thinking it is horrible because Daniel Plainview is a bad person!? Or finishing Goodfellas and thinking to yourself, hmmmm, I...

Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology was a lot of fun to read. It’s nothing too serious or in-depth, but it delivers an enjoyable experience all around. Gaiman takes us from the story of creation in Norse culture to its fated end—the legendary Ragnarok . Before reading this, I wasn’t well-versed in Norse mythology. I wouldn’t say that’s changed much, as Norse lore is vast, with countless stories and interpretations. However, this collection offers a great starting point. Gaiman selects a handful of tales, giving readers a taste of the myths without overwhelming them. It’s an excellent way to dip your toes into the world of Odin, Thor, and Loki. One of the best things about Gaiman’s retelling is how much personality he infuses into the gods, making them feel like real, flawed, and often hilarious individuals rather than distant mythological figures. His signature wit is on full display, particularly in the way he writes Loki. Loki is undoubtedly the scene-stealer. Gaiman brings out the humour...

Wow, wow, wow! Epic! Homer’s The Iliad was a shocking read. I did not expect a story from so ridiculously long ago to hold up so well. "So well" is an understatement. The Iliad runs circles around many modern epics I've read in so many ways. It's a war story, in many ways simple, but there is so much thematic depth, and the characters are brilliantly realized. Themes like loyalty, honour, lust, courage (and lack thereof), and power come to mind. This story is profound. It's massive in scope and scale. Many characters, armies, allies, and locations are all thrown at you. Being my first time reading through, this was a lot to keep track of. I have to admit I probably missed some small details. People die left and right, and with so many characters—all with names so foreign—it was impossible not to get a little lost when it came to who just died or who killed whom. Often, and I mean often, there is repetition. For the main characters, it is much easier. Take Odysse...