Rosy Reads

A gnawing hunger echoes my embrace at new experiences with world literature. My spirit wants to devour literature on a bigger plate, piled up to greedy helpings. This even after a restless assortment of British & Malay favourites which have followed me from childhood.

I am now partcularly drawn to the Icelandics and the French but there is so much isn't there in the wake of continental folklore, sagas, romantic tales and thrillers. Where does it all end?

There is even the South American beauty of colourful worlds melted into words. Of late, I have been diligently reading up on the quieter but distinguised Brazilian novelists like Adonias Filho and literary award winner, Lucia Machado de Almeida. Their lives sounded overpowering and alluring. And this to say nothing of Polynesian stories set in the famous South Seas.

To soak in the full magic of my bookish dreams alone means my own life will be left unfinished & incomplete. Is it posible to ever accumulate a world of roses through the clutter of a destiny that looks the overgrown garden? I dare to think through world literature and the classics, that maybe yes... Yes, it is.