Officially Saying Goodbye To My 10 Year Plan.

*see audio of post at the bottom

Hi There!

Undeniably, I never believed I would be writing this especially one year ago when I, in all my naivety thought I had my entire life path figure out. A 10 year plan to be exact. My sontaran stratagem was to bust my ass, get an idiotic ATAR and go to law school for 5 years. I would eventually get a well paid job as a lawyer somewhere in the inner city and live in a sweet apartment in Paddington with my partner and two dogs named Barkbra Streisand and Puppy LuPone. Even still this sounds like a pretty 'good' life. The thing I neglected to consider in all of this was whether I actually wanted this 'good enough' life for myself, or whether I simply deemed it as successful and attainable. Family connections in the industry would have made it easy enough me to fulfil this goal but upon reflection I think that in the process of making these plans I was subconsciously aiming to please others and not myself. 

I recall sitting in legal studies class in high school and recognising, in my head how much more excited I was for English. When people would ask me about my hobbies or my passions, I would always answer with "I love to read and write". For as long as I could remember literature was the only thing that set my soul on fire. It was the one thing that allowed me to feel insatiable highs and the shallowest lows. At times it is all consuming and it is able to transport me elsewhere. Even when I'm not engaging in the act itself I am always thinking about it. I would even say "I can be a lawyer in the day and write books when I get home" as if being a lawyer wouldn't be my full time job. So why didn't I follow my inner child who told me what my calling was? Was out of practically? to impress other people? for security? I think it is a likely mix of all of the above. Obsessed with retaining an image that only I held of myself, I dreaded that doing the old switcheroo in my senior years would make me seem unequipped and aimless. More, I would have nothing to work towards. With nothing to work towards what would I have to stress about? With nothing to stress about I would actually have to figure out how to have a life!

I love to be in control and have always felt the desire for the highest possible level of certainty and stability. I didn't like the idea of being a struggling artist who couldn't pay their bills. I was foreshadowing an unforgiveable sacrifice of 10 hours every day at a job I didn't love just to know I would come home and sleep in an expensive bed. Upon retrospection, I find it uncomfortable how radically I enforced the idea that it is impossible to get a well paid job that isn't in a stuffy old office. I truly didn't believe it was possible. Now, I find it even more unbearable to envision a life in a corporate office in which I would sit all day dreaming and getting distracted by the illustration I want to do when I get home or the book I want to finish. 

More than that, I can now deeply understand the struggle I had with my self worth and how the treatment of myself was incredibly conditional (I am still guilty and working on it). I was only worthy if I was getting good grades and appeared as intelligent and successful to those to which I deemed it mattered. A crippling anxiety around failure meant I was too scared to drive a car or find a partner for fear of doing it all wrong (I can now drive a car but I am still working on the latter). Almost every morning, I catch myself out feeling unworthy if my outfit isn't up to the usual standards. I place such high regard on my external self expression. I feel that if my outside doesn't perfectly evoke my highest self, no one will love me. If my clothes don't look vintage or unique enough they won't know that I'm an old soul who like classical rock and Alan Ginsberg. A striking paradox still exists. I panic that my outfit is too odd therefore no one will think I am cute but also fearing that if I don't wear it and do meet someone I will be showing a constructed imitation of myself. I know that my worthiness of love is NOT determined by how vintage my ruffle blouse is or how well I did in an exam, but at times I still forget. 

So now what? I have left my law degree and my job at a law firm and I am studying English literature and working at a bookstore. Honestly, I could not tell you. I have some ideas I would like to toy around with and a pretty solid list of routes I could take, but at the moment I am trying really hard to just *vibe* and stop freaking out. Funny enough, a man walked up to me the other day after work and whispered "It's bizarre isn't it? You know what you have to do and you have 60 years left to do it. You are going to change the world" and then booped my shoulder and walked away. After the initial shock wore off, I chose to believe that he wasn't on shrooms but that he is a psychic or my guardian angel in human form... well why not? I might be right. 

To bid ado I would like to share an increasingly fitting quote from the love of my life David Bowie who once said "I don't know where I'm going from here, But I promise it won't be boring".

All the love, 

Scarlett in the sky (with diamonds)

'Enigma Variations' | Aciman has created another masterpiece

 Hey There! 

Andre Aciman wrote a series of novellas following the loves of a single mans life and it blew me away. Admittedly sometimes it takes me a while to get knee deep into his books and they usually take me up to a week and a half to two weeks to finish but I KNOW that I have to read them as they contain such powerful and poetic nuggets that resonate with me in such a unique way. These stories are short and sharp and as each one ends it becomes stark and frustrating. It’s inconclusive but that’s why it’s beautiful because stories don’t usually show that life is inconclusive and blunt. Aciman is expert in showing the raw and beautiful nature of humanity and of love, this novel characterises his entire purpose as a writer by showing that love is abrupt and beautiful but not always peaceful.

Paul's 'First Love', an obsession with his towns cabinet-maker was written in true Aciman fashion. It felt similar to Elio and Oliver's relationship at the beginning of 'Call Me By Your Name', the younger boy pining over the humanity of the other (see quote from page 34) . But Nanni was sweet, he was paternal and though he never indulged in baby Paul's desires it was obvious that he dared to neither squish nor shame them. This became so clear when Nanni and Paul's dad ended up being in love. It felt really full circle and comforting. This story felt the most powerful and daring to me out of Paul's loves.

Paul's 'Star Love' was interesting also. I think that he would say that his Star Love was the love of his life. Though they rarely spoke , always fought and sometimes hated each other there was a soul tie between the two which meant that they could never fall out of love with each other. This one was like an arrow to the heart, I always imagined that that is how love should look. But it was by far the least satisfying to read about. In this section he has a point of showing cheating in a really baffling way. He doesn’t make it seem unethical but rather actively experiencing something new or different, nothing more and nothing bad.

I felt it important to note a quote towards the end of the book when he fashions the lamppost simile (see bold quote below) . The lampposts standing like people in the quadrangle of his soul place presents to me almost as a Charles Dickens like version of the Christmas Carol or a TS Elliot Hollow man moment where his past selves, current self and versions of him that never materialised stood and watched him drink from the wine of life with his star love.

Once again I felt like I was reading an epic and not a romance novel. This book was so beautiful and raw. The way Aciman explores the pure fluidity of sexual desire in a shameless way paints a utopic vision for the future of love in a world that embraces the beauty of gender without using it as a prison. It shows a alternative present where experiencing feelings to their height, their capacity is the most beautiful form of self love.

MY TABS:

• "I wanted to come back on the morrow and work with him, sit face-to-face with him as we'd done today, and occasionally draw closer to him to get a whiff of his underarms, which smelled like mine but much stronger" page 34
• "which is the beauty of assumptions: they anchor us without the slightest clue that what we're doing is trusting that nothing changes. We believe that the street we live on will remain the same and bear its name forever. We believe that our friends will stay our friend, and that those we love we'll love forever. We trust and, by dint of trusting, forget we trusted" page 38
• "Ill do exactly what the Brits did when they broke the Germans' Enigma code during the war. They knew when and where the Germans were planning bombing raids. But they refrained from stepping up defenses for fear of giving away that they had decrypted the enemy's code" page 97
• " 'We're all a bit like that aren't we? Like Sicily, I mean" ... 'We lead lives, nurse more identities than we care to admit, are given all manner of names, when in fact one, and one only is good enough' " page 107
• "My passion feeds on everything but air, then curdles like bad milk that never goes bad enough. It just sits there" page 132
• "I looked at your face and it was the face of someone with a scar on his inner right thigh. It made you so human. It loved you human. I wanted to hold you" page 151
• "...when we stared at each other in the way she wanted and has taught me to want, she and I were one life, one voice, one big, timeless something broken up into two meaningless parts called people. Two trees grafted into each other by nature, by longing, by time itself" page 184
• "Yes the past is a foreign country... but some of us are full-fledged citizens, others occasional tourists and some floating itinerants, itching to get out yet always aching to return" page 193
• “There is a life that takes place in ordinary time… And another that bursts in but just suddenly fizzles out. And then there is a life we may never reach that could so easily be ours if only we knew how to find it. It doesn’t necessarily happen on our planet but it’s just as real as the one we live – call it our star life” page 195
• "I have drunk from the wine of life as last" page 195
• “Learn to see what’s not always there to be seen and maybe then you’ll become someone” page 197
• “Regret is how we hope to back into our real lives once we find the will, the blind drive and courage, to trade in the life we’re given for the life the bears our name and only ours. regret is how we look forward to things we’ve lost yet never really had. Regret is hope without conviction, I said. We are torn between regret, which is the price to pay for things not done, and remorse, which is the cost for having done them. Between one and the other, time plays its cosy little tricks” Page 188
• “They understood so many, many things about me and in ways I might never fathom. And for a moment I thought they were not just lampposts but a collection of blazing selves shifting about in the cold, no different from nine head lit skittles, my nine lives, my unborn, unlived, unfinished nine selves asking whether they might be invited too or what to do with themselves if their time hadn’t come” page 232
• “Star love, my love, star love. It may not live but never dies. It’s the only thing I’m taking with me, and you will too, when the time comes” page 233

All the love, 

Scarlett in the sky (with diamonds)

I Have Lived a Thousand Lives | Poem

5 October 2020

I am ready to have it inked on me

Forever and ever and to the next life.

The gesture of a million words.

An emblem of every scream and smile.

A permanent mark of all that was, is, will or could be.

I will carry it on my sleeve

Stronger than a heart, stronger than a brain

A synthesis of the two and heightened.

 

It will carry me to mars in a desk chair,

And it will fly me to Italy in 1983

While I lounge in my old home, a dog purring beside me.

She will take me to the end of the world and back,

To the beginning of time and explain all that happened in-between.

It will solve all my quandaries and create more.

It will save me and destroy me all in one go.

 

And there it shall stay.

Perched atop my elbow, caressing my upper arm.

Until I chose to jump into it by jumping out.

It is everything and nothing,

Yet it means everything, not nothing.

It is Tolstoy, Dickens, Austen and me.

If you chose to dive in,

touch the fine lines,

The slender stroke that calculate and justify the universe in its whole.

You will die while alive and feel the most.

You will have lived a thousand lives.

All the love, 

Scarlett in the sky (with diamonds)

The Song of Achilles | Speedy Book Thoughts

P.S. My audio recording of this post is included at the bottom

 Hey There, 

I am back at it again, reviewing an incredibly heart breaking queer romance novel which shattered my soul, leaving me, like usual, in a million tiny pieces. Each of these pieces being another unrealistic expectation, little shard of grief and lethargy or just a little tear that came out of my eye. Madeline Miller’s ‘The Song of Achilles’ is historical fiction from the perspective of Patroclus, the lover of Achilles and generally just the soft most sweet boy ever.

I felt unsure going into this book and found it difficult to trudge through the first couple chapters. That is, until they kissed for the first time and I literally melted into my mattress and stayed there for about 20 minutes before resurfacing to continue on. Having studied the Trojian war at school, watched hollywood movies about it and unfortunately already knowing how the book would end I was very glad with Miller's characterisation of Achilles. He was sweet and introverted and only became vicious as a result of becoming accustomed to death. This was incredible when juxtaposed to Patroclus’ character development. It was like they were two little dots on a straight line with bad on the left and good on the right. Patroclus starts pretty far to the left and Achilles to the right and as events unfold they slowly make their way to the other side. By the end of the book we view Patroclus not as an awkward castaway boy but a powerful man who can love and fight and who wants to help people and save them, whether they deserve it or not. As Achilles becomes seasoned we see him harden and grow in fierceness but never once does his love for Patroclus quiver. 

I also commend Miller on her portrayal of Bresis. Washing out the hideous narrative that likely occurred and instead presenting her as a strong female with autonomy and strength. Her last scene was especially powerful and it broke my heart. Her relationship with Patroclus was incredibly heartwarming and special. I like to think that two characters continue to live on beyond us and what we read of them. That they continue to giggle and throw olives at each other in the afterlife.

I would highly recommend this book to people who enjoy queer romance, historical fiction or just want a good old cry. I rate this book 5/5 stars because if I cry for more than 5 minutes after I’ve finished the last page, I know that I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. And oh BOY is the last page a tear jerker. I chose not to include any quotes from the end in this review because you deserve to experience them in real time.

Here are some of my highlights: 

• "said what he meant; he was puzzled if you did not. Some people might have mistaken this for simplicity. But is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?"
• "And as we swam, or played, or talked, a feeling would come. It was almost like fear, in the way it filled me, rising in my chest. It was almost like tears, in how swiftly it came. But it was neither of those, buoyant where they were heavy, bright where they were dull."
• "‘And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth, when another is gone. Do you think?"
• "I would know it in dark, or disguise, I told myself. I would know it even in madness"
• "I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me"
• "We were like gods, at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other"
• "I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell, I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world"
• "When he died, all things swift and beautiful and bright would be buried with him"
• "You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature."
• "No hands had ever been so gentle, nor so deadly"
• "He is half of my soul, as the poets say"
• "‘We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory"

Talk Soon. 

All the Love, 

Scar.

Why the stigma against romance/ YA books is rooted in misogyny.

Hey There!

I have a bone to pick. Why is it that when I'm reading twilight on the bus I feel the need to cover the front  so that people think I'm more ~sophisticated~  or ~intelligent~ ? Why do I, an adult, feel ashamed telling someone that I am reading a YA (young adult) book at the moment? And why on earth do I get nervous paying for it at the bookstore because I think the person at the register will view less of me? I will often even justify myself saying "I know its embarrassing, but its just nostalgic and fun"

I will tell you why. Young women are never seen as valid enough. Thus the interests and opinions of young women are never seen as valid enough through the male gaze. Us Gen Z girls will recall that One Direction was only 'shit' in 2011 because it was widely appreciated by a demographic of young women. Your grandmother will recall that the same was said about The Beatles who are now considered the greatest musical artist's of all time according to the Rolling Stones.  The things that we value are not considered valuable until men dictate that they are and make it widespread. 

 

This has been said about women's magazines which discuss issues pertaining solely to women such as Cosmopolitan. Don't forget Louisa May Alcott, Karen Blixen and the Bronte Sisters who were only able to publish under a male pseudonym.  Society views women, especially young women, as not being mature or respectable enough to enjoy their own niche interests or to produce anything of value compared to their male counterparts. 

How does this relate to YA books when boys surely read them too? Sure they do. Harry Potter for example is vastly appreciated by young and old people of all genders. But don't ignore that it was written from the perspective of a white, cis, straight male and published by J.K Rowling and not Joanne Rowling, another guise in place to conceal the authors gender (Note: I will no longer be supporting Joanne due to the recent unveiling of her disgusting transphobia). 

50 Shades, Twilight, Sarah J. Maas have a largely young female reading audience and are also 'sexy' books. The patriarchy states that these books are not particularly valuable. I think that this is because as women, we may have to seek 'smutty' books and fanfiction. Porn is not made for women because porn objectifies women's bodies and focus' solely on the man's pleasure. Even lesbian porn is glorified in a way that exists primarily to 'turn on' a man. Some women have turned to erotic books or fanfiction written by other women to fulfil their sexual fantasies because their needs are simply not catered for elsewhere. Once again, if it caters to women it is simply not enough to be valued by men and is therefore simply not valuable . 

I can't even begin to indulge in my distain for the lack of representation of queer people and especially queer women in popular fiction. And no, Ms Rowling stating that Dumbledore is gay, 10 years after the release of the final book, with no actual canon representation doesn't count. Go ahead, think of the last time you read a piece of fiction (that was not primarily written as a queer novel) and enjoyed a lesbian or bisexual character who had a personality and any characterised substance that wasn't directly rooted to her sexuality or presented by grotesque generalisations and stereotypes. I sure can't think of one. 

Regardless of reading romantic fiction as being primarily seen as a women's hobby the patriarchal standards that are deeply ingrained into the way we view women's bodies and women in romantic relationships, for all gender often causes this erotica to be fundamentally misogynistic anyways. Classic tropes such as the rich man supporting the poor women, male dominance, incredibly co-dependant females and the concept of a women not being 'whole' without a man are constantly being jammed into our heads. Even when the author is female. Often we don't even recognise how misogynistic our romantic fantasies are because they have been instilled into us for our entire lives. How are us women meant to enjoy or imagine any experience that isn't in one way or another, shaped for a man. Truthfully, I don't think we ever can. 

Finally, we need to stop thinking that 'adults' books or 'men's' books are better. They are not better they are just different. YA plots and characters can be even more intricate and complicated than those found in non-YA books. The only difference is that they are more fucking digestible. 

In conclusion, men need to stop.

All the love, 

Scar. 

Intuition Is My Religion | Breaking Down Spiritual Barriers!

Audio recording of the post included at the bottom :) 

Hi There, 

As a young leftist I have always struggled with structured religion. I grew up with a non-religious Jewish father and a non-religious Orthodox Christian mother, neither of which (thankfully) tried to force me to believe what they did. I have always felt free to think and feel as I wish. This was liberating, though has left me infinite paths to explore and be confused upon. Both my parents are also liberal and to my understanding, endured that same struggled with traditional religion that I did. 

For me, I’ve always had this innate desire to feel like part of a community, a religious community could just do the job I thought. But to commit to any religion would be an utter falsehood. Not only to myself, convincing myself that I really believe what I’m saying I believe, but also to that religion which I would be committing. Part of me believes that I must have been a monk or a rabbi in my past life because even as a child, I have been magnetized to a spiritual life in a way that seems otherworldly. Much like my ethic cocktail, I am a cocktail of spiritual beliefs. I’ve picked and chose what sounded right and resonated with me and seem to have created my own little religion to which I am the only adherent. 

For example, I definitely believe in a soul, but I also definitely do not conform to the Christian idea of the afterlife and see us more as a universal energy, to which we each are intrinsically connected, but also our own energy. I also believe in reincarnation. I have a strong alignment with the idea of manifestation, the law of attraction and intuitive spirituality. All that being said, I have no subscription to any set of moral or ethical beliefs other than that which I’ve learnt through just… living and experiencing things. 

613 mitzvot? How on earth am I to life my life so cautiously? To try my hardest to be a good person? Now that’s something I can get down with. I was born with a nifty little intuitive sense whom I trust with all my might. She tells me that when I say make dinner for my family, call my grandma out of the blue or tell someone they look beautiful “You’ve done a great job! Here, have a warm feeling in your belly and a smile”. She also tells me that when I don’t stand up for someone being mistreated, lie about my availability on Saturday night or think about saying something mean to my friend “Hey girl, that’s not on! Queue the sinking feeling in your gut, insomnia, physical exhaustion and anxiety”. Is that not enough of a sign on how to live your life?  

It’s hard to figure it all out on your own when you aren’t in a structured religion. Trust me, having a handbook on how to live your life sounds fabulous! And if you have found yours then congratulations, I really do envy you! But I’m only at the start of my journey. If I live to the age of 90, that would have been 788400 hours. 157680 of which I’ve already experienced at 18 years old and 630720 to go. That’s a lot of time for new learning. I’m certainly not daft enough to think I know it all already or that I have reached the pinnacle of my own spirituality and certainly am able to recognise gaps in my belief (some of which may never be filled). But reaching an accepting state where I have allowed myself to NOT be a sceptic about everything has been freeing!  

For me, the one and only thing that I know is that I trust my gut. My intuition is ALWAYS right. So, when my gut tells me that manifestation is real, I’m going to trust her and go with it, knowing that it feels right. When she says that lying is bad, I’m going to agree. Making the active decision to not need concrete proof for everything your intuition tells you is good, bad, right or wrong opens up a world of possibilities! Maybe my gut tells me something different to what your gut tells you, but the beauty of life is that we each rule our own paths!

I know I might sound woo hoo, or like social isolation has really gotten to my head. But this process of breaking down unwanted beliefs, those like “magic isn’t real”, “you can’t have that, you’re not worthy” or “there is only one way to get to where you want to be” and instead just listening to what FEELS right opens up more door than you would have otherwise thought impossible. No one says to only use your heart and not your head, but if you’re not using your heart enough, you might just be a little too stuck in your head. 

I really hope this made sense. Sometimes its hard to put my abstract thoughts into an understandable flow of sentences LOL. 

Wonder amongst the stars… 

All the love, Scar.

P.S I would highly recommend Kristen Jenner (Pursuit of Bliss), she really helped me think about a lot of this stuff !  

What I Actually Learnt From Being in Quarantine...

Note: Audio recording of the post is attached to the bottom. You’re welcome to listen to it if you would prefer!

Hey There!

It seems as if 'quarantine' is coming to an end, at least for us in Australia. I'm now leaving the house almost everyday and most things appear to be returning slightly closer to normal, or as normal as they can be. I can say that these last few months have really thrown me back to those six week summer holidays when both my parents were working and wouldn't let me get the bus on my own so I was stuck in the house by myself, watching an entire season of pretty little liars in one day, waking up at 2pm and living off pasta and toasties. I'm almost grateful in some way that I've been stuck alone with my thoughts for a while because I've learnt a LOT of things that I'm otherwise not sure I would have. 

Firstly I have learnt that yes, I am definitely an introvert... It worries me a little bit how much I did not hate being at home all day and night ESPECIALLY since everyone else seemed to be going mad. I had the chance to create a Harry Styles light switch, buy myself a pink beanbag, write a lot, catch up on my reading (a lot) and watch those shows that my friends have been ranting about for ages. What could be better? That being said I missed the absolute fuck out of my friends. I was reminded immensely of how much I value them. Whats better than a Harry Styles light switch? A Harry Styles light switch that you've got to justify as normal to your friend who has come to visit and doesn't understand your obsession with One Direction. What's better than a beanbag? Two beanbags. 

I think all of my fellow students will agree with me when I say that ONLINE SCHOOL IS HORRIBLE! All this going to bed at 3am isn't fun when you only finished writing your law essay at 2am and have to get up at 9am for a live ZOOM tutorial. Especially as a first year student at university... Honestly, I think I speak for us all when I say that I don't even know how I got through it. 

Not that I didn't know it before, but my brain (whom I have named Brian) is an infinite bloody minefield. From the insane dreams I've been having (many regarding Harry Styles the light switch) to my heightened creativity (inevitably fuelled by a lack of motivation to do uni work), I did not realise how Lizzy McGuire Brian (the brain) truly was. I may be unfit physically, but I sure as hell am a body builder of the mind. These many occasions of fruitful poetry writing and lemon painting were equally matched by life crisis` and existential impositions. Just for your pleasure a schedule would go something like this: 

• 9am-1pm Get up, don't wash your face or get out of your pyjamas, do uni work
• 1pm-3pm Procrastinate, TikTok, eat a lot of leftovers or make pesto pasta 
• 3pm-6pm CREATIVE TIME
• 7pm-9pm Life crisis time
• 9pm-1am Freak out about how unproductive you've been and do some assignment work
• 1am-3am TikTok/ journal about your crisis that occurred between 7pm and 9pm
• REPEAT

Those many 7pm-9pm sessions of existential implosion, though likely catastrophic to my mental well being provoked many important discussions with myself about the direction of my life. Stop, slow down and visualise what you actually want and not what you've been told is good for you. Turns out, I was on the wrong track all along. That discussion isn't always better saved for another time. In this case, I think I'll share it with you later. 

Some other small things I learnt which are less valuable but still quite important include:

1. I like being outdoors. Walking my dog is the best part of my day. 
2. Music makes me SO happy. 
3. Making art is therapeutic and when pared with some Carole King played on vinyl I am practically floating atop cloud nine (Photo at the top is my painting!)
4. Meditation works even better when you do it everyday. 
5. The ancient Greeks were right about leisure over work.
6. Hinge is better than Tinder. 

Wonder Amongst the Stars
All the love xx

Dreaming of Starry Italian Nights Again | Poem

Dreaming of starry Italian nights again.

How should I stop?

When heads are in elbows and are belly’s stuffed.

I know because even now,

I remember everything.

We both knew then, you more than I.

At that time at least, you more than I.

Well, now you know I knew.

And I suppose you don’t dream at all.

Not as I do, at least not now.

Even then I was dreaming of nights spent.

No, not in the way one would suppose.

In ways beyond that, for pleasures sake.

Less of an action, more of a feeling I would say.

But there was no action.

Is it foolish to try and remember

Why I held back for so many years?

Why I energetically wait for defeat.

Perhaps I needed to grieve us.

Perhaps grief is all I hadn’t felt in us.

Not truly, not deeply.

But to feel grief as so to feel everything,

What a waste!

Not to feel what could have been uncharted.

Is it unnatural

to think of something so long ago so often?

Fanciful, I guess.

After all, I don’t think I’m one to like.

Only to fall madly in love

And perhaps never to stand.

Find Me| Speedy Book Thoughts

"music doesn’t change us that much, nor does great art change us. Instead, it reminds us of who, despite all our claims or denials, we’ve always known we were and are destined to remain"

Hi There,

Following along with my ever-growing obsession with Elio and Oliver, namely the outstanding writing of Andre Aciman I thought I should share some of my thoughts on the sequel to their story.
I tried coming into my first reading with an open mind. I was entirely shattered after the first book ended and needed to take some time to recover emotionally, though I’m not sure I ever really will. I had heard a lot about people who were shocked by the structure of the book and disappointed about the lack of interaction we received between the two characters. Admittedly, beginning the book with Samuels story (Elio’s dad), threw me off a little. Elio is the star I thought, how could I possible get through the first part when all I really wanted was to hear Elio think again! Well, it turns out the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

Samuel was brilliant! His relationship with Miranda was insightful, passionate and refreshing though it did feel slightly out of place in a book I thought would be about Olio. I think that Aciman could have written a whole other book as a standalone about those two and I surely would have read it as well. How could any of us not when we are trying to read every last word and hoping that it never ends. This part of the book, which took up a good 35% of it in totality felt like another story, one which wasn’t totally connected to the heart of the novel until the last 11 pages. None the less, it was beautiful. I don’t feel it made me like the story any less, it only enhanced my love for the Perlman family… in a disjointed sort of way.

Moving then to Elio’ perspective, I got to know and love an older Elio who aged as we’d all hoped he would and who’s essence was very much the same. Reading his thoughts felt like visiting an old friend who you haven’t spoken to in a while, but the second you start speaking it feels as though you saw each other just yesterday. I was apprehensive watching him form a meaningful relationship with anyone other than Oliver. Just as Oliver would, half of me just wanted him to be happy after so many years and half of me resented Michel for lessening the changes the two would ever meet again. Just as I gave into the two of them, and gave up resenting Michel, Aciman changed it up again.
It was at this point that I realised, that somehow the first three parts of this story, in an intrinsic and abstract way were setting up the final part of the book. Realising that Elio and Oliver had always been missing each other, that they were never truly whole because they left the part of themselves they were always meant to be somewhere in northern Italy two decades early. Both knew that the other was their only chance at complete happiness and it only took them a lifetime to find each other again.

The part that had me sobbing was finding out that Samuel had named his child after Oliver… I’m not sure if I’ll ever justly recover from reading that. I am far more satisfied with this ending than most people. Sure, we didn’t get any spicy Tuscan villa sex this time, but somehow I liked tracking their winding road to back each other just as much. Undeniably this sure is the perfect fuel for my own romantical fantasies and maybe that’s why I adore it as I do.

Now I can live the rest of my life knowing that Elio and Oliver are together at last in some other fantastical dimension and whenever I feel that love doesn’t exist I know that it can’t be true. As two Jewish lovers are sitting beside the pool somewhere in northern Italy, likely in their billowing shirts and tiny shorts and they are both truly and madly in love with each other, and they always will be.

Before we part ways, here are some of my favourite quotes from this book for you to ponder over:

• "We only want those we can’t have. It’s those we lost or who never knew we existed who leave their mark. The others barely echo
•  “As a French poet once said, some people smoke to put nicotine in their veins, others to put a cloud between them and others.”
• None of us may want to claim to live life in two parallel lanes but all have many lives, one tucked beneath or right alongside the other. Some lives wait their turn because they haven’t been lived at all, while others die before they’ve lived out their time, and some are waiting to be relived because they haven’t been lived enough.
• Death is God’s great blunder, and sunset and dawn are how he blushes for shame and asks our forgiveness each and every day.
• people may be brokenhearted not because they’ve been hurt but because they’ve never found someone who mattered enough to hurt them.”
• “Everything in my life was merely prologue until now, merely delay, merely pastime, merely waste of time until I came to know you.”
• “Love is easy,” I said. “It’s the courage to love and to trust that matters, and not all of us have both.
• I can be alone or with people, with you for instance, but I am always with him.
• Fate works forward, backward, and crisscrosses sideways and couldn’t care less how we scan its purposes with our rickety little befores and afters.”
• Time never casts shadows and memory doesn’t drop ashes.”
• No one ever went bankrupt borrowing someone else’s pleasure. We go bankrupt only when we want no one.
• I can’t even tell what I feel, though feel something I still do,
• all he needed when the time was right was simply to come and find me. “And you did.” “And I did,” he said.

Wonder Amongst the Stars
All the love xx

The Alchemist | Quotes That Will Open Your Third Eye

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Hi There,

Sometimes I finish a book and I want to write about it for hours because I have so much to think about and to discuss. Other times, I finish a book, I may be a little confused and lacking lethargy but I know that it has somehow made an impact on me. It just wasn't one that I was able to describe in words. Maybe something emotionally abstract.

'The Alchemist' by Paulo Coelho had that effect on me. So without any explanation, any context or even for some of you, a basic understanding of this stories soul, read the below quotes that I marked up during my adventure with the tale. Take a moment to ponder what it says. These are the lines that I stopped at, that I re-read five times and that I knew that I never wanted to forget.

The beauty of words is that no phrase has a universal meaning. Find what they mean to you.

Call Me By Your Name | Speedy Book Thoughts

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*no spoilers below 
P.S. At least read the quotes at the bottom 

Hi There,

Today I am going to share some of my thoughts on 'Call Me By Your Name" by Andrè Aciman.

Shattered. This book is like an arrow to the heart. Aciman moved me in a way that is blatantly distinguishable from the way any other text has impacted me. I cry in almost every romance novel at one page or another for reasons that can be blamed on my particular solidarity. This time I cried right through, from the first part to the last, and I consistently sobbed for at least the last 50 pages. Though I wasn't crying because it made me feel lonely, it didn't even make me feel too sad in the understandable sense of the word.
The diction was so raw, and so viciously humane that I was literally moved to tears because my brain didn't know how to process what was going on.

If you've ever seen the film you'd understand the nature of the passion between two men. I feel like the film captured it as best a film could do. Though if it was a stage play I feel like a few asides could have done some justice. What the film didn't capture was the way in which Elio talked about Oliver, about his parents, his music, his books and B. (which I discovered to be Crema in Tuscany) .This is what makes the book so transcendent.

The plot is decent, the scenery is quite literally perfect but the speaker is what makes you think so deeply every time you put your book down. About all the things you've read and the places the book has taken you and all the things you continue to read about the world around you. It changes that instant. The amount of wisdom in this book contains is far more than I could begin to understand and far more than my sane mind should rightfully attempt to understand.

The novel was written as a recounting from decades in the future, something the readers didn't quite discover until the final 20% of the book. Upon reflection, the nostalgic tone was something I couldn't quite grapple but made the world of sense once you reached that particular point in the book when Aciman makes it make sense. Twenty or thirty pages into the piece, a hundred or so pages from anything fashioned for direct dejection you start to feel so horribly hollow. Like when you know something's about to go terribly wrong in the middle of an unavoidable conversation.

I don't know how Aciman did this extraordinarily powerful flashback, but I hate to say I am a little jealous of how well it was executed.

On a final note, the impact of having such a glorious piece of literature which is representative of the LBGTQI+ community is so immensely powerful and moving. I couldn't imagine how much further this would touch ones soul if you were searching for a story which normalises something so abundant and gay. In that case, I am not here to convince you to read this book, but if I haven't convinced you by now then I should be quite disconcerted.

I say we are all Elio aren't we? and we all wish we were a bit more Oliver.

Wonder amongst the stars.
All the love xx

MY FAVOURITE QUOTES

if you can’t say “yes,” don’t say “no,” say “later.”

“Is it better to speak or die?”

If youth must canter, then who’ll do the galloping?

you pay for a smile by the shot glass

I began, reluctantly, to steal from the present to pay off debts I knew I’d incur in the future. This, I knew, was as much a crime as closing the shutters on sunny afternoons.

“People who read are hiders. They hide who they are. People who hide don’t always like who they are.”

“Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine,”

And we’ll want to call it envy, because to call it regret would break our hearts.” 

Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot.

Time makes us sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of time that we suffer.