I always like to link the places I stay with books I read. I've read quite a few books during this past year in India, often using reading as other people have often refer to it – a mean to escape from your reality. Not that my reality was particularly gloomy over there, but retrospectively, my choice of books shows my need to connect to places outside of India. During the couple of months before my departure, I was eager to read novels by Indian authors, asking Indian friends about their favourite books, hoping to start grasping the subcontinent. I read a couple of them and arrived in India with a few books, all in English, most of them written by Indian authors. Until now, I haven't read them, even though my Indian colleagues have told me about their stories, their authors, their engagement with Indian politics or the rest of their work. And actually, I feel like reading them now, now that I'm not in India anymore, probably with some sort of nostalgia.
Oh yes, books. The ones I remember of at least, not that the other ones weren't good, but my mind is just blank now.
- The lacuna, The fall of giants and Purple hibiscus – three books chosen because I'd loved the previous ones
- The colour purple – a memory of my fellow sexigenflucka telling me about it when we decided to screen the film
- The road – a film I had heard of, Viggo Mortensen
- An equal music – a gift, and winter moments spent in London
- Le baron perché – steps in a philosophical novel, and in French
- Soleil, devant – souvenirs of high school literature classes, themes, characters, inspirations, when the author is behind each and every page
- Sputnik sweetheart – Haruki Murakami, from D, finally
- Reading Lolita in Tehran – building on Persepolis, a dive in the love of literature, new books to add to the list
- A case of exploding mangoes – beautifully constructed, good to read after some time spent in India
- When broken glass floats – horrible Khmer rouge regime
And also two books that I haven't read (and don't know if I will one day) but that have been with me this year – with a friend's name on the cover.
I'm now following Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect around the galaxy, trying to keep up but almost drowning in English humour.
