Top 10 books

A little while ago, I was sent a tantalising email. Two of my friends in London had challenged themselves to list their top 10 favourite books of all time. Once they had responded to each other, in their thirst for discovery, they emailed me in Sydney to ask my opinion. I reveled in responding. I took some time and a great deal of pleasure coming up with the list. I enjoyed it so much, I thought I might copy the discussion here for others to read, if they had the inclination and time...
Note - the start of my soliloquey is in response to one of my friends mentioned Jack Kerouac's On the Road, which technically isn't part of my top 10, but I do ramble on about it nonetheless.

"Firstly, I have also read On the Road... I know what you mean Ash, its a little light on plot, but its got the most delicious expressions. I actually marked in the book my favourite lines... I just happen to have it next to me as I type, so here are a few cool lines:
"We all realised we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one and noble function of the time, move."
"The car was swaying as Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank tranced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had been lurking in our souls all our lives." [how brilliant is that!!]
"I realised these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered, stabilised-within-the-photo lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives, or actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road."

Brilliant.

Anyway, my top 10 books:

Notes from a Small Island, by Bill Bryson. I was given it as a present before I moved to the UK, and didn't get it when I read it. Then I read it again after I had lived there a little while, and I just gushed, I just love the British!

The Ground Beneath her Feet, by Salman Rushdie. Much easier to read than his other books, and an insanely good story, so rich and clever and the most beautiful prose you can imagine.

The Art of Travel, by Alain de Botton. Actually, I love all his books, I would classify them as popular-philosophy, but this one is amazing because he writes about how different artists and philosophers can teach us ways to view travel and the 'journey' in new ways. He is really easy to read, and his insights are so clever.

Now this is a bit of a cheeky entry... can I say 'anything by Guy Gavriel Kay'? It includes about 10 books, but they all are probably my favourite books. This author worked with Tolkien's son to prepare the post-homously released The Silmarillion, so you get a feel for what he does. His first creation was a trilogy called the Fionavar Tapestry (the first book is called The Summer Tree), in a fantasy genre, but its the most intense emotional ride, and its to this day the book (or set of books) I have read more than any other. I read quotes from it at my sisters wedding. I named my cat after one of the characters. Its a big part of my life. Then his later books are more historical fiction: he takes a real time in history and creates imaginery characters that go through the real events that happened. For instance, my favourite of these ones is called "The Lions of Al-Rassan", which is set in the south of Spain during the time of the Moorish occupation of that region (I think around 1400). There, in Granada, where the Christians and Jews and Muslims lived together in peace and harmony, until the Christians decided to take back the region. So what happens when a female Jewish doctor falls in love with both a Muslim lord and a Christian General. Aah, honestly, it will make you weep and laugh and gape. Incredible. All his books are filled with real people, real foibles, but in incredible settings, and with the most beautiful writing style... aah. My favourite author of all time.

Love in the time of Cholera, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Also A Hundred Years of Solitude. The man is a genius. You literally want to write his words up on a wall and gaze at them, they are so beautiful.

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series, by Douglas Adams. Who couldn't like this series... Marvin the Paranoid Android was my favourite. I giggle and giggle to it.

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, by Patrick Suskind. A beautiful book about a man with an incredible sense of smell and a murderous disposition.

The Picture of Dorien Gray, by Oscar Wilde. I love the concept of this book... the painting of the narcissistic boy that reacts to his corruption while the boy stays beautiful.

Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham. Its an oldie, but boy is it a goodie. I just looked it up on Amazon, and guess what other people who bought this book also bought? Yep, On the Road. I giggled when I read that. Its about a club-footed orphan who is discontent and travels and tries different professions and women and countries, in search for himself. I read it while travelling. Brilliant.

The Forbidden Knowledge series, by the brilliant Stephen Donaldson. First book is called 'The Real Story'. Its a sci-fi series, which many don't like, but its the best I've ever read. Its so dark and disturbed in parts, its the most insane story, and you can't work out whether to love or hate the characters. I've read it a few times. Awesome.

OK, thats 10 entries, and considering 5 of those entries were for a series of books, I feel very cheeky. But they are a good spread of books: sci-fi, fantasy, classics, non-fiction, comedy, tragedy, magical realism, satire... keep you reading for ages. I would love it if more people read Guy Gavriel Kay's books, he is very little known, but there is no compare to his books, they are works of art."

An orchard and too much food

My favourite memory from my Easter weekend down at Kangaroo Valley with my boys, was strolling through the orchard at the bottom of the estate, burrowing our noses in rose buds. The chalet we booked for the weekend was spectacular, even making someone as effusive as I normally am stunned into awed silence. It had its own pond, complete with ducks and lilypads. And beyond the pond was its own rose garden, with various mounds with the most lusciously blooming flowers. The boys and I wandered around, inhaling the glorious aromas of the virulently coloured roses, commenting avidly on the slightly different variations in scents from one rose to another. The roses were all dewy and moist, and there was no sound about us but the rustle of trees, the quacking of ducks, and the moans of cows. It was all rather sensual. A gentle glorious assault on the senses.

My other favourite moment was the vast amount of food we cooked, predominantly for breakfast. I ate more bacon than I ever want to admit to, but boy was it good!! The boys decided that the only way I was going to meet a suitable man is if I could cook (that old adage), so they decided I was going to embark on a month long challenge of cooking special ingenious meals every night for the next month, in an attempt to become proficient. Aah, if they knew what lows I have sunk to cooking-wise this month... oh well, they had good intentions.

Anyway, it was a much-needed break, four days out in the midst of bright green pastures, misty mountain peaks, verdant trees, warm fireplaces, red wine.

Life-long ambitions, and music

Its been a few months since I have last blogged here. There is, alas, competition in the form of my other blog www.birthofastartup.com, which although perhaps less intimate and philosophical, does get more traffic and serves a more obvious purpose than this one. Nonetheless, I quite like the fact that no one probably reads this one anymore (please tell me if you do!), which affords me an ironic fusion of publicly stating something in a very private way.

I have been extraordinarily busy. What with working a full-time job, trying a launch my business (which is very close!), in the midst of starting a second one, trying to stay fit, see family, have a vague concept of a social life... well, sleep is definitely the thing that is suffering, but I figure I can catch up on sleep, and this is one time I really feel I am on the path to finally achieving some of those long-held ambitions.

All I have ever wanted, since I was a little girl, was to be an entrepreneur. And a writer. I have come to the conclusion that my artistic ambitions will be better served once I am sufficiently self-funded, so am dedicating my efforts to the former ambition initially. I thought I would have done it a lot sooner, but its so much harder than one can imagine, particularly if one aspires to achieve this goal in an honest, admirable, worthy pursuit. There are a lot of dodgy entrepreneurs who are filthy rich, but I know I would never be proud of myself unless I did it on my own, my way.

So, its quite exciting to be so close to finally launching my site - an innovative social decision-making tool. Its tremendously exciting. Its a life dream. How often can you say you have achieved a life-long ambition? There can't be too many life-long ambitions out there per person... I've achieved many of mine: to live an intense life in London, to dance in front of many people (next to Carl Cox in my cheerleader outfit at NYE 2000), to meet Christian Slater (long story... I think I described it in an earlier post here on this blog)... but yes, to be a self-made woman in a worthy venture is a big one. As is falling dramatically and wholly in mutual love with an artistic tall man with incredible integrity and wit... still waiting on that one unfortunately, so am focusing all my energies on the former.

I am made of tough fibre. I can bear the endless series of sleepless nights, sore shoulders and back, isolation, financial constraints (my business is self-funded), angst etc... I can bear it even knowing that there is no immediate end in sight. I have been working towards this opportunity my entire adult life, and I have had a life time of training in stubbornness, determination, and hard work, so its all being put to good practise now. Its all culminating in now.

Anyway, I'm blabbering. Exhaustion is seeping through my pores. I am so desperately glad tomorrow is a long weekend, and I am off frolicing with my best friends in a beautiful house in Kangaroo Valley. A whole 4 days of no work, lots of sleep, great company, fresh air. Oh glorious joy!

On another final side-note, I have become a fan of a brilliant Australian band The Basics. I found out about them after seeing a saucy burlesque/cabaret/circus Cirque du Soleil meets Moulin Rouge show called Feasting on Flesh, which I was inordinately moved by, because it so perfectly captured the spirit of what moves me ... that intoxicating blend of sensuality and carnality, food and music and shadows and suggestiveness and hilarity and cheekiness. And the star of the show was the musician who sang, played drums, and composed all the music. He had a stage name of Gotye, and I became immediately fascinated. I found out more about him, and then discovered he was also in a band called The Basics. One day, when I was feeling particularly buoyant, I came across a poster that said that The Basics were playing in a pub close to where I lived that weekend. I was breathless with excitement. And the reality met my expectations, which is rather extraordinary as I tend to have very high expectations. They - and their music - were fun, cheeky, entertaining, and rather dashing. I have become a fan, which is amusing because I am not traditionally a band kinda girl. But if the music and its performance inspire soul-elevation and back-shivers, one needn't pigeon-hole oneself out of such opportunities.

Anyway... to bed. Goodnight.