A long way gone....

by Ishmael Beah. (and have you read 'Whats the what' (Dave Eggers) yet?)

The places in between.....

.....by Rory Stewart. I love traveling and I have been on same beautiful adventures in amazing countries. It enriches me but while traveling I often wonder what Im doing, and why. An scruffy room in an hotel in a filthy Indonesian city. I checked all the walls for peepholes. Did not find any but felt very uncomfortable anyway. Or the time when I accepted a ride in a Costa Rican pickup. Driving into a tiny town where nothing happened and I ended up in the hotel of permanently drunk Vietnam Veteran. The next day I met an american woman who offered me her couch as soon as she heard I was staying with the Ol'Drunk. I was reluctant to accept; she was covered from head to toe in a tiger print tattoo. And she scared me just as much as the drunk.
Or the old lady in a tiny village in Bangladesh. We were invited in for tea and she told us about her life; and showed us old pictures. While going through the pages of the book she got all emotional and tears welled up in her eyes. "It is all the memories" she said. Her husband had passed and so did one of her sons. The room was painted pink and I just sat on that couch. Staring at the tacky interior and feeling both uncomfortable and terribly happy.
I just finished reading 'The places in between' by Rory Stewart, a scottsman who walked across Afghanistan in the midst of winter. He is the opposite of me; although he walks he travels fast. A cup of tea here and there but he is determined to keep on walking and is not distracted by kindness or a warm home. That is the more admirable if you know the circumstances: snow, cold, rain, rivers to cross on foot, hardly any food. And he is totally dependent on locals for food, tea and shelter. He literally knocks on peoples houses for a bed and a bit of rice. Sometimes it is just tea and sugar, sometimes his host prepare elaborate meals for their guests. Oh man! I don't know whether to admire his travel or to dislike it. People with next to nothing light the fire for him and feed him. And he's happy for it but also expects this kind of kindness because he is a guest. He's rude to people when necessary, even has to fight for his safety. But after finishing the book i had a bit of an aftertaste. The kind people are so eager to tell him about their lives, their history, their war stories. For me that is what traveling is about: to talk to people. Learn and experience from the lives of others. It is not about the distance I travel or mark off highlights of my list. It is probably to keep some speed in the book; but I cringed sometimes and wished he had stayed put on that floor, and listen some more. But that is just the way I like to travel I suppose.
(The drawing is the afghan polo)

Steve Jobs

When I listen to Bob Dylans music Im amazed by how natural his songs sound. Perfect, amazing songs, yet so apparent this is the way the song should sound.  I think Bob Dylan is the most amazing songwriter there is, but in all honestly I think that writing songs wasn't that difficult for Dylan. Like those songs already existed but the just needed to come out of his head.
I just finished Steve Jobs Biography (Jobs was a huge Dylan fan).  Reading his book made me realize that a lot of the amazing Apple features that I use every day are so natural and intuitive that they have always seemed to be there. But they weren't, some one invented them. The desktop icons, the iTunes playlist, the iPad swiping. The zooming in and out. The non-existing on/off button. (or it is there, you just never use it). Jobs wanted his machines to be as natural as possible. And he achieved this by using his intuition. No teacher (and only one manager) ever told the importance of intuitive decision making. Going through life your taught to work hard, learn, think loads. But trusting on your instinct is rarely emphasized upon. While, for me, the best decisions I made where the intuitive ones.So I was inspired by Jobs. This man was not hippie or a new age guru, this man was one of the most important business men in the world.
Other things I learned from this book: he was a bit of an asshole, he dated Joan Baez (singer and Dylans ex) and Jennifer Egan. She is an american writer and wrote 'A visit from the Goon squat'. It happened to be the book that I read right before Jobs biography. Loved it. My favorite chapter was the second last in which the sister of an autist explains to her dad how the brain of her brother works. Brilliant. And the book breaths music. A very modern novel, speedy, modern life problems: anxiety, too many decisions in life, I don't want to grow up-problems, pills, drugs. That sort of book. Probably written on an Apple given to Egan by Steve Jobs.
Loved both books, one I enjoyed, the other one excited me. And Mr Jobs; thank you for my beautiful machine. It really brings out the best in me. I have some skills and talents myself, but your hardware gives me the ability to make what I see in my head. And on top of that, most importantly of all; you gave me an Apple Z button. Where would I be without the Apple Z button?

To Kill a Mockingbird.....

by Harper Lee. Now I understand why this is book the favorite for so many. Wow! Beautiful. And the next book I picked up from the shelves of the thrifstore; Arthur&George by Julian Barnes was a lovely read as well. And oddly enough there where many similarities with 'To Kill a...'

Number9dream.....

by David Mitchell. 'Spellbinding', it says on the backsleeve. I think it is my favorite read of 2013. What an amazing book. David Mitchell entered my top 5 of favorite writers as of now. Thanks Mr. Mitchell and I wish you a wonderful 2014.

A marriage plot by......

Jeffrey Eugenides. The drawing is a lot darker than the book is. In fact, I loved the book. Personally I could relate to almost everything in the book and the book gave me deeper understanding of what depression feels like and what it means to some one. ( a true depression, not being moody for a day) Other books by Jeffrey Eugenides are Middlesex (recommended by Oprah, and also by me) and the Virgin Suicides, that most of you know from the movie I suppose. That's it for today, these are all my words; the drawing has to do the real work today.

Hope you had a lovely day. I did.

Stories I only tell my friends.....

by Rob Lowe. BY WHO? Rob Lowe. Yes. The actor Rob Lowe. I have two sisters and it is fun to mock with them. Unfortunatly they are quite good at mocking back. My sister found me a hand-me-down Rob Lowe biography. Since I was a Rob Lowe fan millions of years ago. I actual read the book. He's not a bad writer, ok, let's make it a compliment. He can write. It is an easy read, a bit funny, and he keeps you interested in what comes next. But really, 300 pages Rob Lowe's life? Even if it involves romances with Natasja Kinski, Princess Stefanie and friendships with Charlie Sheen, Mike Meyers and Jim Belushi.  He's a bit full of himself (or is that allowed in an autobiography?) but wants to come across as a genuine and modest guy. Oh well, I got what I asked for I guess, an autobiography by an actor. And the book made me curious to some of those old movies; About Last Night, the Outsiders. So I watched that last one, by Francis Ford Coppola, over the weekend. Scruffy old rock'n roll music, greasy hair and cool cars. Handsome actors (yes I'll give him that). All a bit over top, but entertaining. And sometimes that is just good enough.

And did any of you knew that TOM WAITS features in the Outsiders as well? Well he does.
(The drawing is my old room, from when I was a kid. )

De droom van de Leeuw....

door Arthur Japin. Een Nederlands boek. De illustratie is geïnspireerd op het boek, maar ook een beetje op Berlusconi. Al lezende moest ik aan hem denken. Deels omdat het boek in Rome speelt maar ook door wat er gebeurd in het boek.

Brights Passage......

by Josh Ritter. His book is as charming and sprankling as his music is. Start your week with some of his good music here! And I hope the drawing gives you a happy monday morning feeling as well! Marike.

Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver

The books I love, I love them for different reasons. Sometimes it is quite clear to me why I love a book so much, sometimes I just do and I can't really tell why. I just finished reading Black Swan Green (Dertien in de nederlandse vertaling) by David Mitchell. A wonderful book about a thirtteen year old boy (Justin) with a stammer, living in the little town of Black Swan Green.
Why did I love this book so much? I did not particularly liked the main character, nor was it  an exciting story (although that is also a pré).

Half way the book I realized I love the pace of the book. The speed of sentences, the length of the chapters. Smooth, beautiful and strong.  I loved the references to music throughout the book (the Smiths, the Talking Heads, the Beatles). And I loved being in the Uk, in a small town. Even if it was the eighties. And I think I even loved being picked on by my older sister.
And maybe it is the strong sense of knowledge that this thirteen year boy old will be ok, although all the odds are against him at this stage of his life. He is smart, he has talent. He will get out.
He just reminds me of all the quiet smart ones in highschool. The ones that did not stick out at the time.  The ones I encounter on the streets of Amsterdam. The directors, the artists, the writers.

The other book I read recently is 'Bean Trees' by Barbara Kingsolver. The cover of the book is so hideous that I felt I had to apologize to people. "It is literature, it really is"
I loved this book as well, although I could not relate to this character at all. She comes from small town just like Justin, and was as a kid part of the 'nutter' group. The ones who had to sell walnuts to pay for school. Kingsolver gave a good sense of humor and a good head on her shoulders. And she drives a beetle. (I don't need much else..to fall for some one)
It is one of Kingsolver earlier books and this one shows bits of things that are important to her and made their way to all her other books.  Her love for the spanish language (such a interesting part of the Lacuna) Her love for everything that grows. (Flight Behavior) . And she brings across a message that is important to her. In this case; No man or woman is illegal. I never know whether to admire her for that, or the be a little annoyed with her schoolteacher finger pointing at me....
But this book, if softened my heart. It is sentences like this one:
"Is this from Guatamale" I asked.
She nodded. She looked almost happy.
"Sometimes I get homesick for Pittman an it's as ugly as a mud stick fence," I said. " A person would have to just ache for a place where they make things as beautiful as this."
Thank you Mrs. Kingsolver. I imagine you sitting on your porch, surrounded by trees and bugs, and other critters. Pondering over new stories to tell. I hope you do. Cause your stories move me every time.

Black Swan Green.....

by David Mitchell.

Read more about the book here. Later more in my own words. But have to face it, most people write much better than I do...

Chesil Beach...

by Ian McEwan. Is this his best book? It could very well be.

Inés, of my soul...

....by Isabel Allende. 

As some of you know by now I'm a fanatic secondhand shopper. Whenever I need something I will do my utmost best to buy it second hand; my beautiful leather horse riding boots are second hand (brand new second hand). The beacon of my life; my blue espresso machine is secondhand and almost all of my furniture is secondhand. (I rather recycle than buy new...) The secondhand shop in neighborhood has a fantastic book-section. Yesterday morning I found Thirteen by David Mitchell, a book Arthur Japin (dutch writer) and a brand new copy of the Corrections by Franzen. (that will make a great gift...) So piles and piles of good books, but also loads and loads of shitty books, and many of the same titles. I've made a habit out of it: to find as many of the same books as I can and put them next to each other; 7 copies of 'Fall on your knees' by Ann McDonald. Prices all different, all orange and all the same size. (yes my idea of saturday morning thrill.... I fully understood if I lost all of you by now..) The Chilean writer Isabel Allende occupies an entire section within the book-section in this shop. I've read loads of her book, devoured them I should say. Last week a good friend gave me a book by her; Inés,, of my soul. It has been years since I read an Allende book and I was a bit hesitant. What if I was about to find out that she actually is the sentimental, crappy writer that I sometimes thinks she is... Inés, the main-character, sails from Spain to Chili, in 1537. She's a brave, woman (like al the Allende women), founder of Santiago (Chili) and of course there is love and passion (it is an Allende book after all). Inés Suárez ((c. 1507–1580) really existed and according to the acknowledgements none of the facts are influenced by her pathos imagination. (she quotes her critics here) I don't really care. I loved the story, I loved some of the historical facts. And the most important thing I learned: the Natives thought the bearded Spanish were foul smelling, They never bathed. Opposed to the Mapuches who bathed daily. (according to the Mapuches you could smell the Spanish a day away...) Just this one little fact, so contrary to my narrow minded conception that the Spanish would be cleaner than wild tribes, makes me love this book. But also, I will leave the other Allende books in the thrift store a little while longer. Maybe another time. But not for now. Now I have other books to read, David Mitchell for example. Have a wonderful day!

Mosquito Coast .....

.....by Paul Theroux. I read the first paragraph and already loved the book. I guess I love men who fulminate about all the things that are wrong in the world....love them to a certain extend .... Mosquito Coast, and my all time favorite book; Poisonwood Bible by Kingsolver, there loads of similarities. Im not sure whether that is a good or a bad thing, is she a copycat or was she inspired by Mosquito Coast? Maybe some of the similarities are to honour Theroux? I don't know. Just read both books. Great reads, the stories linger on in my mind. Books to pick up from the shelf again. Oh books, and their marvelous writers, thanks for all the inspiration you give me!

Fontanel.....

by Meir Shalev. For a time Meir Shalev was my favorite writer. Beautiful weird, almost fairytale like, family stories. I read most of his books and every time his stories sucked me in, his characters felt like close friends and the weird family characteristics seemed perfectly normal to me. This book took me a little longer, I did not believe some of the rather strange family habits, but at the same time I loves how Shalev describes everything very vividly: the smell of citrus, the love of his 'Apoepa' for his 'Amoema', the angry righteous vegetarian vegetable growing mother. A lovely holiday book, a dreamy, strange story. To read while you're in Italy and are surrounded by olive trees. IM not by the way, in Italy, im in Amsterdam, and about to go to work. Have a lovely day. X

Amandla! and Dreams of my Father....

Several weeks ago I found two interesting books in my favorite thrift store; Amandla! by Nelson Mandela, and Dreams of my Father by Barack Obama. Mandela's books inspired me because of Mandela's message of positivism. And I learned a lot about certain periods in South Africa. But the book is a collection of speeches he gave. And that doesn't make it a great book to read. (Am I allowed to do that?, write something negative about Mandela???) Obama's book on the other hand... That man can write! was'nt even halfway the preface and already loved the book. He can write and he has an interesting story to tell. In short, his story and the story of him and his family's. And about the color of his skin. He shares his doubts, his struggles, He writes about his grassroots work in the ghetto of Chicago and he writes about his visit to Kenya, to meet uncles, aunts, siblings. But mostly he writes about his (lack of) belonging. But something else happened while reading this book; Obama changed my perspective on the world around me. My perspective on my neighbourhood. The community I live in, my own belonging. It changed how I looked at the community centre I visit on regular basis. All of a sudden I noticed the hardworking volunteers in this center. I noticed the poster in which they ask people if they ever experienced racism. I noticed the struggle of some of the people in the, so called up-coming, area of my city. And it made me think all over again about the conversation I had with the toddler cared for. She was a beautiful girl with amazing black eyes and brown skin.

Girl: (while pointing at the telly) "I can't join this show" Me: "Of course you can." Girl:"I can't because Im brown" I thought I misunderstood her, or that she got something wrong so I asked her: "Im I brown?" Girl: "No you are white" "What about daddy?" "He's black", "What about mum?" "White" "And what about Giovianni?" "Brown"

Later that evening I told her mum about the conversation we had, and the little girls feeling of rejection because of the color of her skin. Her mum filled me in on the whole story: earlier that day another little girl pointed out to her that she was brown due to that she was'nt allowed to play there. This conversation changed me. She was 3, a cute-looking beautiful little girl and she was dealing and experiencing racism. Since then I'm convinced that racism is every where all the time. Sometimes very openly, but most of the time, hidden, subtle. In Dreams of my father Obama thinks about racism. And he reflects on being white, black, being male, female. In an grasping, smart way. I always fall in love with the characters of the books I read. Of course I fell for Barack big time, but more than that, my admiration for him as a human being increased, and this book convinced me that he must be a thoroughly good person. (with an incredible difficult job). Ps the drawing is inspired by his work in Altgeld, a neighbourhood in Chicago. He drives past a few old men and that reminds him of his own Grandfather. The car Obama is driving is my first car. This is probably the closest I will ever get to Barack Obama!

Het Bottenpaleis.....

door Pam Emmerik. Een mooi, zacht, verdrietig en mooi verhaal over twee jonge vrouwen wiens levensverhalen naast elkaar liggen, en elkaar soms raken. Ik lees bijna nooit meer nederlandse boeken, maar dit vond ik een prachtig boek. Dankjewel Roosmarijn!

Just Kids....

....by Patti Smith. I have such an admiration for Patti Smith. I think she is smart, strongminded and she seems totally un-interested in living up to the expectiations of society of what a woman should look like. So i was very pleased with the book Just Kids, by Patti Smith, given to me by my friend Onneke. It describes the love and friendship between the young Patti Smith and (the later to be photographer) Robbert Mapplethorpe. Both of them arrived in New York city as very young adults, with hopes and dreams to be artists. She describes their struggle, their hunger (especially Patti doesn't have enough to eat. She explains she has a very fast metabolism, and looking at her, oh man, she really must have been hungry) My admiration for Patti Smith just grew bigger while reading this book: she writes beautifully but also she really was the one who worked, brought the money in, made sure they could pay the rent. What a trooper! She just felt it was completely normal that she paid for stuff, so Robbert could fully develop himself into the big artist that he wanted to be. (and she wanted him to be.) Just out of love for him, and with lots of faith in his abilities. But exactly this also dissapointed me a bit: Come on, are you really working over 40 hours in a shitty job, be hungry, travel back and forth in the subway, while your man smokes weed, draws a bit, and eats your food while you can't hear your own thought because of the rumble of your stomach? Apart from their story it was interesting to read about the 'scene' in NY in the early seventies, late sixties. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Harry Smith and Andy Warhol. They all play little parts in this book. The music-lover in me loved the book, but the artist in me loved it even more. And the strongminded woman in me just thought: 'yes sometimes you put your own dreams aside because you have so much faith in the one you love'.

Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman

I'd like to think i have some sense of humour. But after reading a few books with a variation of the following sentence on the sleeve: Funniest book ever" or "funniest book I have read in a long time ", but finding them not they funny at all, I'm in self doubt. My latest read, Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman has the following quotes on the cover: " Made me laugh and tremble all the way through" Emma Donoghue. "A gut-wrenching sad novel that makes you laugh out loud" the Guardian. I did not laugh out loud about this book. Pigeon english is, I agree with the Guardian on that one, gut-wrenching sad. It's written lightly and free, and I loved reading it. I totally fell for the maincharacter: a ten year old boy from Ghana, wearing cheap white sneakers and living in the housing estates of a London Suburb. He misses the colors and smells of Ghana, and misses Agnes, his baby sister, who's still there. The book gives you a little insight in the life of immigrants in the UK. But in a lighthearted way. There was a specific scene that stuck in my mind: Harri the main character doesn't not understand the sign next to playground that say' Say No to strangers'' Quote Book: " Me: 'What if they ask Where is the hospital? What if they need your help' Jordan: 'Don't be gay. They never need your help. They just want to take you away in a van and shag you up the arse, innit.' It felt very crazy. Nobody asked to sex me before. Most people just want your help. if I see a stranger I'll ask him first what he's looking for." It was little things like this that made me fall in love with the book, and with the main character. And I learned a new word: Hutious. I think it is hardcore London housing estate slang, so better not used by this white artist type from the dutch countryside.

Son of the Circus

By John Irving

You probably all think that I've stopped reading. I didn't. I just started a book that contained 744 pages and it took me ages to finish. When I was at 200 (more or less)  I started to get into the story. And then I still had 544 pages to go.  So it was a bit of a struggle. Instead of telling you anything about the book; the drawing sums up the story: all lines are connected. All details matter, and that makes the book an amazing book, but another part of me wanted the book to be half it's size and over a little sooner. Around page 400 I noticed myself looking at the pile of books next to bed and thinking which one I would start after Son of the circus. But still 344 pages to go…..

And I just had to finish this crazy long story about a doctor,
an actor,
a dwarf,
a beggar boy,
a police officer,
a crow,
a priest,
a hippie with blond pubic hair,
a young schoolboy,
a transsexual,
a german drug dealer,
an acrobat, a murderer,
a blond austrian woman, a pen, a huge dildo, 
a golf club,
a white ambassador (taxi),
a homosexual brain doctor.

The book is done now, and the last scene, was beautiful, touching, kind, clear. My final opinion; perfect holiday book. (but maybe not the best book to read while you have work to do, newspapers to read, rooms to vacuum and laundry to wash....)