#but i feel like sputnik sweetheart is calling to me….

[2wn]

which murakami should i read next: dance dance dance or sputnik sweetheart??

[welivetodream]

Crippling loneliness in the age of the internet:

"Why do people have to be this lonely? What's the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?"

~Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (1999)

Let me set the scene:

In a dark room, the only light is coming from the phone of a girl laying on the bed, as she mindlessly scrolls for hours on end. She is typing fast, she is running multiple apps in the background, she is listening to the latest hits while doing all of this, her earphones never leave her ears; even when she closes her eyes, she is still listening to a podcast. Despite all these activities happening around her. The girl looks bored and apathetic, her eyes are blank, no emotions, no thoughts. And for hours to come she stays in that state, waiting for something to happen, even if it doesn't, she doesn't care.

This could be the opening lines of a sci-fi novel but this is actually how I act when I am alone. This is how my life has become. And while people like to blame this on the internet that has made Gen Z mindless zombies; I think the only reason I haven't died is because of the internet. To normal people it's a curse that makes humanity fall to its lowest. To me it gave a purpose, a want and a direction to live for.

The Internet isn't the evil mastermind to me, it's a necessity that has kept me alive and not succumbing to the fact I have no one to talk with.

Internet to me isn't Instagram, Snapchat, Discord,Twi--X (someone stop Elon Musk from cooking), it's the "quirky" apps like Pinterest, Tumblr and Reddit as well as the depths of content that is YouTube. It's the places where I found "my" people who understood me, who accepted me, who appreciated me. Growing up I had no one to talk with, even my own family wasn't understanding, let alone my friends.

During my school life I had always been surrounded by friends or as I like to put it, people I can talk to and have lunch with during school hours. That's what it was, nothing more than that. My idea of friends was just different from others, I didn't want emotional connection or people to hang out with. I wanted friends who would listen to my ramblings and be able to debate and discuss things with.

I don't want to seem pretentious or snobbish and definitely not above others in any way. But....when I am surrounded by so many frustratingly stupid people, I don't have any other words to describe them than "not good enough for me". They may be wonderful people, who are warm and lively. I do not care about being around such people. I am someone that watches video essays on morality, ethics, philosophy and analysis of movies and TV, in comparison to the people I know I am just more perceptive and thoughtful and that alone makes me seem like a stranger to them (INTPs are weird in short form). My dad told me smart people have it hard to make friends because of this exact nature, I wouldn't call myself incredibly intelligent but I know I am far more capable in thinking than my classmates who watch reality TV shows and Tiktok dances. Sometimes I cannot even comprehend how people can even get satisfaction and happiness from something as simple as that and that's when I understand: it's okay to be different than that and it's okay that they are "normal".

I feel like I am Lain from "Serial Experiments Lain", as if my existence is given meaning by the internet and I was born from it. My lack of social interactions in person can be explained by that, but it's the thought of talking with other people that often scares me. I am used to being silent, so much so that even on the internet, I remain quiet, not interacting with people who might understand me. Being afraid of not being understood has stopped me from even trying to make connections when there's people ready to do that.

I don't even reply to comments on my posts, unless I have to and I don't talk with anyone on the internet itself. I just watch and be happy at other people's interactions and feel a sense of belonging.

For some days I decided to stop doing that, to stop the vow of silence. To let people approach me and approach others myself. I want to be friends and it's the only thing that I have ever considered as something I couldn't achieve.

Loneliness isn't as pretty as the movies and books tell you. It's more of a psychological thriller than a show like Euphoria and Skins where these stylised depictions make my depression and loneliness appear cool. It's cool to be alone, to have my own space and not cross boundaries but it's not cool to let the loneliness that shields me, devour me.

[railingsofsorrow]

𝙾𝙲𝚃. 25𝚝𝚑; 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖘.

summary: iris's letter.

pairing: spencer reid x oc!iris valentia

w.c: 706

warnings/content: mentions of food poisoning, vomit and fainting; mentions of self medicating; mentions of Alzheimer's disease; angst (not much); fluff; “ODU” is the acronym for “Old Dominion University”.

A/N: LAST LETTER!! we are done with act 1, now we'll proceed with act 2. next chapters are going to be in narrative style.

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

whoever wants to be tagged for this fic, fill this out or dm me.

[letter 1] [letter 2] [letter 3] [letter 4] [letter 5] [letter 6] [letter 7] [letter 8] [letter 9]

October 25th.

Dear, Spencer.

My whole department fell in sick yesterday — including my students, barely anyone was spared. Some kind of food poisoning? I don't know, people started throwing up, passing out and whatnot. We didn't know what to do!

(Yes, this is how I start my letter. I had to vent to someone how weird this is!)

I immediately called 911 and the cafeteria became swarmed with EMT's. My first supposition was that something was wrong with the cafeteria food. I never eat there because I either bring my own food or... I just don't remember eating until I'm off to go home. So, I tested it, the cafeteria food. But no. Nothing was wrong. I still find it weird that this happened out of nowhere, but my colleagues think it wasn't anything serious.

ODU was on the news today. Same thing happened. I can't shake this off, it can't be a coincidence, can it?

Sorry, I needed to ramble to somebody.

Ah, Spencer. It's too late for that, I already care enough to worry. What other resources are you trying? I hope you are not self-medicating yourself, it's not good. You're not doing that, right?

I have a friend that I could recommend you. She's a neurologist so she could be more helpful — you've probably been to a lot of those, but she's really good.

Her name is Clare Thompson, her office is in Washington, DC at Georgetown. If you want, I can make an appointment for you, we're close friends. If not, then just ignore this. I'm not trying to push you into anything, I'm just concerned.

What you said reminded me of the concept “Athazagoraphobia”. I researched about it to include it in my MD thesis about Alzheimer's disease. It means exactly what you said: fear of forgetting something or someone, or being forgotten.

I relate to you on that. But I'm more afraid of being forgotten. Sometimes I think that if I don't put my mark in the world, then how will people remember me? Do you feel like that too?

I absolutely know what you mean about the dolls... They're creepy. I had a few when I was a child, I don't know where they disappeared to though, I think my mother donated them. Either way, I'm happy not knowing their whereabouts.

I am happy that your friends are threatening you to to go out more.

Yes, maybe he is sick. It's an option I've considered. But he usually sends an email letting me know he will miss class. Fabian is not the kind of student that misses class without a plausible reason. He's very dedicated and one of my top students.

Of course you'd take is as a challenge, Doctor Reid. I could tell you were the competitive type from the moment you told me you were a rebel as a kid (no, I'll never forget that, you book thief).

Oh, did you really like the book? I'm so glad. Yes! I have like 5 recommendations to you but I'll spare you two: After Dark and Sputnik Sweetheart. Tell me what you think afterwards.

Something reminded me of you today. I was grabbing my coffee and I guess I picked up the wrong order. Do you know why I think that? Because it was the sweetest beverage I've ever had. I could've dropped dead right there if I had taken another sip. Disgusting, really. My blood vessels were almost clogged up. The person left in a hurry and left their coffee right beside mine on the balcony. Oh! And guess what: it was written “Reid” in their cup. I know it is a common name, but it reminded me of you.

Don't forget to drink water and eat, Spencer. As always, be careful. Looking forward to hear from you soon! <3

Love,

Iris.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @chayceschultz; @cultish-corner

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[flowerish-cherry-blue]

book review: sputnik sweetheart by haruki murakami | 1999

summary:

sumire is in love with a woman seventeen years her senior. but whereas miu is glamorous and successful, sumire is an aspiring writer who dresses in an oversized second-hand coat and heavy boots like a character in a kerouac novel.

sumire spends hours on the phone talking to her best friend k. about the big questions in life: what is sexual desire, and should she ever tell miu how she feels for her? meanwhile k. wonders whether he should confess his own unrequited love for sumire.

then, a desperate miu calls from a small greek island: sumire has mysteriously vanished...

my opinion:

first of all, i will say that i liked sputnik sweetheart much better than kafka on the shore. the plot itself isn't bad if you consider it separately from the love line, which is kind of crazy here. sumire is a person who thinks she wants one thing, when in fact she purely morally can't get near it. miu tries to ignore her past. and k. tries to get over her feelings for sumire while trying to at least remain her friend. this isn't the first time murakami has brought up the subject of split personalities, it feels like he firmly believes that we can be split in half in the literal sense, and one half will live its posh life while another sit in a corner somewhere

sumire tries to write her own novel throughout the book, and the way her worldview changes shows that this may not be what she should be going for. always when we meet new people, they have a strong influence on us, which is what happened when the girl met miu. under the influence of her feelings, she comes to a new awareness of what she's doing, and i don't think that's a bad thing, because it shows that she's still developing as a character. but honestly, probably my favorite character in this book is k. he, despite his feelings for sumire, understands that they can't make it work, and so appreciates their friendship. but at the same time, while he still has some hope, i don't really like that he's starting a relationship with his pupil's mother, it doesn't seem quite right to me. however, no one called him a one-love man, had someone?

the plot development is pretty good, although Ii honestly never understood two things:

• what the twist with sumire's disappearance in greece was for, whether she was actually on the island or got into the reality of the second miu, remained unclear to me.

• the scene with k.'s pupil, how much chance is there that this boy is acting this way because he is also bifurcated? what if murakami wanted to show that absolutely everyone, adult or child, is subject to bifurcation? that's only worth speculating about.

so what we have here is a bit of a detective book, with a love line that is a mess, since no one got anywhere, and except for miu, everyone is a loner with undifferentiated feelings.

sputnik sweetheart is a really good read, especially in its genre, as i said, personally in my opinion, it is better than even kafka on the shore, despite all the complexity of explaining the nature of the relationship itself and what love is, comparing people's relationships to a satellite's, and the atmosphere of loneliness the author conveyed, it is just amazing.

my rating:

3.9/5

«sputnik … ?»

«the name of a literary movement. you know—how they classify writers in various schools of writing. like shiga naoya was in the white birch school.»

finally it dawned on sumire. «beatnik!»

miu lightly dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

«beatnik—sputnik. i never can remember those kinds of terms.»

[juniperusashei]

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman - 5/5

It’s hard to articulate why this series is so special to me. I told myself, this time I wouldn’t cry at the end of The Amber Spyglass! And yet, embarrassingly, I found myself in tears clutching my cat (coincidentally named Amber)… The second time around, I can easily say that His Dark Materials is the best fantasy series in existence.

When I was 10 or 11, I was absolutely charmed by the first book, Northern Lights (though I actually think the US title The Golden Compass makes more sense, in light of the objects-as-titles naming scheme) but I never really read beyond it. It wasn’t until my first year of college, one of the hardest periods of my life, that I read the entire series, and it affected me so deeply that I attribute it (along with other books like Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart that I was reading at the time and are now my favorites) with affecting the course of my life. I don’t want to get too personal with the details, but it’s very dear to me.

When the 2007 film adaptation dropped, I was sorely disappointed due to the revised ending, so I was very excited for the most recent TV adaptation by HBO. The first season charmed me, but I found the second bloated and mostly filler. Season 3 comes out in just a few days, so even though I think the trailer looks sterile like a Marvel movie, I will surely be watching it. I didn’t want to rewatch the first two seasons though, which is why I reread the first two books instead, and I got so caught up in the narrative that I went ahead and read the third as well. I think it’s an absolute artistic crime that Studio Ghibli was not hired to adapt this series, because it’s the closest literary equivalent to their work — talking animals, a spunky girl protagonist, witches, and lots of flying machines.

So what did I think of the actual book? It’s stereotyped as ‘baby’s first atheism book’ but the philosophical depth is uncommon because it actually managed to make nihilism look like the most optimistic choice (something my Christian friend called the edgiest nihilism). It’s funny to me that only the first book attracted ire from evangelicals, because the first book is largely a metaphor for the Catholic sex abuse scandals, and Pullman doesn’t get into the metaphysical until books 2 and 3. Aside from the philosophical aspects, it’s such an addicting world, one that I feel compelled to come back to time and time again even though none of the supplemental material has been very good.

I was also excited about the new copy I ordered, from Everyman’s Library. I had a ratty old omnibus and wanted something nicer, and the extremely expensive Folio Society editions looked so cheap to me! The Everyman’s binding looks elegant in its minimalist red and black, and most importantly, the book stays open on its own. There’s a sewn-in bookmark as well, and it feels like a very elevated reading experience. At over 1000 pages, the paper they used is thin, translucent “bible paper” which is a potentially unavoidable drawback, and I wished there were illustrations, but overall this is the nicest looking copy I’ve found. It’s an apt time to reread it — my earliest memory of the series is reading it at a family Thanksgiving years ago. All my cousins had ganged up on me for one reason or another, so I, distraught, sought refuge in my grandmother’s room, and read as she protected me. Fitting that one of my favorite books should be associated so strongly with one of my favorite memories.

[owilder]

I recently finished reading Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart. (By recently, I mean a few weeks ago. Look, I’ve been up to my eyeballs, quite literally, in editing. So, don’t “at me,” or whatever the kids say these days.)

Back in October, my weird side won over my intellectual side, and I chose Ikuhara’s Penguindrum over Dazai’s Setting Sun. The series is.... something else. ....and I will get to that when I finish the third and final book. What I will mention about it now is that, in the first book, when Himari is in the infinite library, she asks Sanetoshi if the library has a copy of Super-Frog Saves Tokyo (which is, at present, in my TBR). Himari also returns a financial book, Stephen King’s Christine, and Haruki Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart, each of which, I assume, has some connection to the plot and themes of Penguindrum. The financial book’s connection is obvious, and I have enough familiarity with Christine to have deduced its connection as well. But I had not read Sputnik Sweetheart, so when I found it on Barnes and Noble’s shelf the same day I picked up the second book in the Penguindrum series, I had to buy it. Having finished reading it, I can now say I see the connection. Penguindrum undoubtedly draws a lot of influence from Murakami’s writing, and it’s on full display here. The shared themes of impossible or forbidden love, existential dread, fate, and feelings of isolation are woven throughout both novels.

Now, separating it from Penguindrum, I rather enjoyed this book. A man named K. narrates this tale about his best friend Sumire - with whom he is in unrecipracated love - as she falls in love for the first time in her life with a woman named Miu. Sumire begins working for Miu, and the women develop a strong bond. Then, one night, K. receives a phone call from Miu from a Greek island informing him that Sumira has vanished “like smoke,” prompting him to travel to Greece to help Miu look for her.

This book has a delightfully unsettling dreamlike quality to it. The characters are well-developed and sympathetic, without being flawless. While I detest love triangles, which this book technically incorporates, the tropes typically associated with them are absent here. The romances, and lack thereof, all feel simultaneously real and dreamlike, like much of the book itself. The mystery of Sumire’s disappearance takes a backseat to K.’s response to and revelation regarding it, as well as the existential questions surrounding it, but this isn’t to the book’s detriment. The mystery is a plot device, rather than the plot itself. If you’re looking for a straight-up “who dunnit,” this is not the book for you, nor is it intended to be. But if you’re searching for an exploration of identity and the effects of conformity and isolation, this is definitely a book to pick up.

[theobscurepotato]

I want to ask you literally all the writer questions, but I'll narrow it down a bit. XD Can I get 1, 8, 23, and/or 35?

Well, here's your essay. XD

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

I actually had to open up a doc and check, which I guess answers this question. Arial, mostly. (I use a mix of Google Docs, Scrivener, and Word, depending on what I’m writing). 

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

I feel like some of my stories already fall into the “entire story is dialogue without action” category. Dialogue is just…so much easier for me to write. The thought of writing an entire action scene with no dialogue is terrifying to me (which means it would probably be a very good writing exercise). 

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I don’t have a set writing location because I tend to move around the house a lot (and I do a thumb-aching amount of writing on my phone, especially if I’m feeling “stuck” with a story). But if I’m editing, I’m usually at the writing desk in my bedroom. There is a yellow armchair to the right of my desk that is usually occupied by one of the pets. On top of my desk (besides my computer) there is a bowl of succulents that I haven’t managed to kill yet…a can of grapefruit sparkling water…a 2$ lottery scratcher card...and a giant stack of books: “Faith, Madness, and Spontaneous Human Combustion”, “Spinning Silver”, “La Corona Nascosta”, an Italian/English dictionary, “Sputnik Sweetheart”, “Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripedes.”

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Part of my fierce love of fanfiction as a genre is how it openly invites smashing “writing rules.” My undergraduate degree is in creative writing, and while I would not undo that experience, it definitely burned me out on writing for nearly a decade. Sparse, cynical writing was in vogue, and we were taught to avoid openly embracing the big feelings, the (melo)dramatic moments…calling something “poetic” was a veiled insult. So when I write something like a feelingsrevealed! scene or a dramatic!rescue or anything deliciously tropey, I derive a rebellious sort of satisfaction from it. 

Thanks for the ask, and the detailed response to my ask!

Weird Asks for Writers

[pureed-madness]

So, I finished Sputnik Sweetheart last night… and I had a very weird dream too…

So, Sputnik Sweetheart is a surrealist novel by Haruki Murakami. To quickly summarize the entire plot, the book focuses on two people; K, an elementary school teacher, and Sumire, an aspiring writer. Sumire meets Miu, an older woman who is a distributor for vintage wines, who offers the former a position at her company. Sumire instantly falls in love with Miu and starts to work for the latter. A few months after Sumire met Miu, the former goes missing during a business trip on an unnamed island in Greece. Despite their best efforts, they never find her, vanishing “without a trace”. It’s heavily implied that Sumire crossed over into another world to be with another version of Miu, but it’s never confirmed exactly what caused Sumire to vanish.

So I really enjoyed the book! I loved its themes of friendship and love , and how it examines loneliness in our society. But when I went to sleep the strangest thing happened. I had a dream. I dreamt that I saw an old friend from high school again. Her name is Emily. I first met her around eighth or ninth grninth or tenth grade on the bus. I sat next to her everyday for two years. I sat with her and our friends at the lunch table 5 days a week. There were so many in our friend group that we had to take up two tables lol. And I never saw any of them again. I was so stupid, thinking that because most people drifted out of contact with each other, I had to immediately stop talking to my friends. But that’s besides the point. When I saw her, it was like I had never said good bye. She looked older, same age as me, but I felt like we never stopped talking. Like we never lost contact and stayed best friends since we graduated. I thought, “oh, hello old friend. I’m glad to see you again. Its like you never left and it feels so natural to have you back. Sit down next to me, let’s chat for a bit.” I dreamt we sat down and just talked.

At the end of Sputnik Sweetheart, K receives a phone call from Sumire in the middle of the night telling him she returned needs him to pick her up. The ending is left intentionally ambiguous as to what, if anything, is real. My personal interpretation is that Sumire returned from the dream world to the physical world. Some would argue that K is dead and has joined Sumire in the afterlife, or that Sumire is dead but K can talk to her anytime he wants because of their bond and Sumire never left him and is a part of him. K and Sumire met in college and for years were each others beat, closest, and only friends.

I realized it doesn’t matter if Sumire has left or returned. What matters is that K and Sumire shared a connection, made the other feel less lonely through their friendship. Sputnik Sweetheart uses satellites as a metaphor throughout the book, saying that people are drifting through space alone and too quickly to process, and only rarely do we cross paths with other objects in space, other people, and truly open our hearts to them for a brief moment before they’re gone just as quickly. It doesn’t matter whether Sumire returned or left because she’s always with K, and K always has a place in his heart for Sumire, to welcome her back whenever their orbits collide again. They are richer because they met each other. That they were so close because they were old friends after meeting each other for the first time. That there are people in our lives we would welcome back with open arms. People in my life that I would be delighted to see again, because they helped me feel less lonely during a crucial time in my life, and how much I want them back and how they helped me turn into the man I am today. And it makes me feel so grateful for the friends I’ve met on here that make the world feel less lonely, more warm than it is. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. : )

P.S. I flipped through my high school yearbooks to find out when I first met Emily and it hurt so much to see all those familiar faces. Faces of old friends I wish I could see again, pick up where we left off. Faces of people I was acquainted with but I remember them distinctly. Everything was so simple then ;_;

[sinterblackwell]

example #368292748290 of when i do too much when people are asking me the most innocent of questions:

@geminibf asked me what my hearts mean in posts i reblog and i absolutely bursted with energy so!! if anybody else is curious, here’s a very detailed explanation of what these hearts represent:

spoiler: they’re not random

@kritiquer actually asked me the same question a couple months ago and i came up with this post, but i think this newer version is much more coherent so hopefully you guys like it as much as i enjoyed putting it together :’)

warning: long post ahead

~

❤️ - my immense love for post/edit

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/664852865200865280/ughroykent-latine-heritage-week-day-four

💜 - inspired by taehyung’s “i purple you” to ARMYs; dedicated to BTS

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/662183327503089664/bangtan-universe-insp

💙 - dedicated to lucas & eliott from skam france; i personally associated the color blue to this pair and have so since so this is where the heart came from.

currently inactive since i haven’t reblogged an elu post in a long while but here’s one still on my blog!!

https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/187672179798/and-theyll-never-see-each-other-not-unless-one

🖤 & 🤍 - used interchangeably; depends on the style of the edit

examples: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/662891243178737664

https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/663279905220575232/sophiemina-chaptersnet-event-ii-dark

💗 - for posts dedicated to nature at its finest, animals and plants included:

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/656192178546229248/the-sea-the-sea

❣️ - for text posts:

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/663608788036812800

some text posts might really hit hard to me which leads up to…..

🧡 - whenever you see this, it’s a personal glimpse of me and my feelings (when i read a post or see an edit that reflects myself and/or that gives me a lot of comfort, this is when i use it).

fun fact: it is my favorite heart.

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/663995696307961856/metamorphesque-sputnik-sweetheart-haruki

you might have noticed…there are posts i reblog dedicated to robbe and sander from wtfock with this heart….but why do i have it used for them?

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/655022994063835136/sander-klaas-stephen-chbosky-the-perks-of-being

because they came to me at a time when i needed them most.

think of the double meaning of this quote: ik heb blij dat ik jou heb gevonden (i’m so happy that i found you). it’s what i have as part of my bio.

robbe said that to sander at a time when he (sander) needed him (robbe) most. but it’s also me telling that to the both of them.

💚🤍🖤 - i’m aro-spec; dedicated to posts that help me learn more about this important part of my identity and also makes me feel more connected to it.

💖💜💙 - i am also bi; dedicated to posts that make me feel proud of this other part of my identity that was what opened me up to exploring my sexuality in the first place.

example: https://sinterblackwell.tumblr.com/post/652850695251361792

[vixxscifiwritings]

lilac melancholy

Length - 4590 words

Characters - Hongbin x Sanghyuk, VIXX Ensemble

Rating - Teen and Up

Summary - Sanghyuk wonders bitterly if he has loved Hongbin or if he has regretted him longer.

Tag List -  @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols  @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo

-

01

The days that pass by are drowsy, packed with heat and the roaring noise of factory machines from the mills three blocks over. The posters peel off the electricity pole, revealing the maroon red rusting beneath. A single touch would result in your skin burning from the ferrous substrate.

The power is gone once again, like it usually was during the afternoons. Hongbin watches as Sanghyuk flips through the pages of the copy of Sputnik Sweetheart , stolen from his older brother’s bookshelf. Sanghyuk is too young to understand these stories, his brother insists. What does a thirteen year old know of people feeling melancholy and emptiness from unrequited love and unattachment?

Hongbin likes to think that he knows. There is a far away look in his eyes now, an emptiness inside him ever since his mother finally up and left. His father abandons all pretenses of the family being together and stops coming home entirely that one fateful night in April. At fifteen, Hongbin understands melancholy and loneliness in ways Sanghyuk’s brother thinks Sanghyuk won’t.

“You’re doing that thinking thing again” Sanghyuk points out and Hongbin hums. It is June now and it is far too hot for Hongbin to sling his arms around Sanghyuk’s waist and bury his face in his shoulder to hide the emotions that are always on display on his face. He hates that the most about himself even if he feels safe enough in Sanghyuk’s presence.

“It’ll be good if you thought in a while too” Hongbin retorts, letting the sassy facade take over. How many times can he be sad about the same things till Sanghyuk gives up on consoling him?

“Are you thinking about your mother?”

“What makes you say that?”

“It was her birthday yesterday. I saw you looking at the calendar you have hidden away under your mattress” Sanghyuk confesses. His voice is still high pitched and hasn’t grown deep the way Hongbin’s has. In his childlike voice, everything sounds naive and innocent and Hongbin always forgives him for it. There is not much room to hide secrets in this sixteen by twenty feet room they share.

“It’s okay to miss her,” Sanghyuk adds, putting his arm around Hongbin’s waist. Hongbin turns to his left to look at Sanghyuk. His face is only a few inches from his own and his gaze is steady, searching for the answers to the complex maze of emotions that Hongbin himself does not have.

“I don’t want to miss her. Not when everyone knows she doesn’t miss me” Hongbin says. It’s commendable that the anger and bitterness he has kept bottled up doesn’t explode vehemently into those lines. The feelings flood his mind every time the topic is brought up and Hongbin does his best to stop the flow of emotions with the success of duct tape holding together a pipe bursting at its seams.

“Okay” Sanghyuk says. His actions are different from his words because he pulls Hongbin in and holds him and lets Hongbin bury his face in Sanghyuk’s neck like he always does. He kisses the back of Hongbin’s head and pats his back and lets Hongbin intertwine his legs with his own and holds him despite the stuffy heat. The sun shines angrily on the dry ground outside but Hongbin thinks he only has a grey misty sky clouding his mind.

“Will you leave me when you grow up?” Hongbin asks Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk’s brother will leave in September. He’ll go to a reputed college on the other side of the country and that will be one more person in his found family who does not come back home regularly.

“You’re older than me. You’ll be the one who leaves first” Sanghyuk reminds him.

“Kiss me” Hongbin asks in lieu of replying. Those are demons he harbours for darker days. Hongbin is selfish that way. He will hold onto whatever he can for however long he has it because he knows nothing lasts. The old yellowing wedding card promising eternal love and happiness that his father hides in his closet is proof that nothing lasts.

But when he feels Sanghyuk’s lips on his own the static in his mind drops to a quiet hum. Sanghyuk is skinny and his body feels bony under Hongbin’s small fingers. Sanghyuk hovers over him and his weight is a pleasant distraction from the world. The way Hongbin calls Sanghyuk’s name when he runs his fingers through his hair is a rhythmic metronome that is spoken in hushed tones to keep his dependency on Sanghyuk’s affection a secret from the rest of the world.

Sanghyuk falls asleep in Hongbin’s arms but when he wakes up, Hongbin is not in his room. His brother tells him that he went home and comments on how odd it is and how Hongbin should move in with them properly instead of staying in that lonely apartment. Sanghyuk nods but knows Hongbin won’t return for a few more days.

Sanghyuk doesn’t see him for days following moments like the one they shared earlier today. It happened the first time they kissed and the second and the third. It will happen again tomorrow. Maybe Sanghyuk will see him by the field, playing football with Wonshik and inviting him to join the game like nothing has happened. Or maybe hanging out at the cafe in the mall because the part timer there has a soft spot for him and always gives him free milkshakes. Sanghyuk doesn’t know.

He tries not to think about it and goes back to reading.

-

02

If there is one part about growing up that Sanghyuk thinks he will never get used to, it’s the parties. He likes people but he doesn’t like dozens of them stuffed into tiny spaces that reek of smoke and cheap shitty alcohol that is more likely to cause nausea over intoxication. He draws his jacket close and finds a chair by the kitchen’s island counter to sit on.

It’s the premium view to everyone else’s bad decisions. Sanghyuk regrets not bringing his earphones along (he swears they should be in the pocket of his jacket). He makes peace with listening to whatever indie song is playing in the background. Or whatever is audible of it over the incessant chattering of the crowd.

“Leather looks good on you,” Hongbin says, materializing out of nowhere to grab a cup of the fruit punch that has definitely been spiked.

“Thanks,” Sanghyuk says, pulling on the cuff. The leather jacket is an old jacket that his father almost throws out but Sanghyuk sneaks back in. It has cracks around the elbow where it has been bent up and two yellow stripes on the right sleeve but he doesn’t know what that signifies. He likes to think it’s a cult of sorts. The allure of being part of an underground secret society is always high.

“Kinda short for your normal sleeves,” Hongbin says, tugging on the part of Sanghyuk’s overshirt that peeks through from the jacket. It’s dark blue and not visible in the dim purple lights till you really go looking. His father was shorter than him whenever he got this jacket but Sanghyuk knows Hongbin is not interested in explanations. Sanghyuk focuses on the way the rough skin of his fingers feel against his softer skin. Hongbin has rough hands from all the chores he does on his own and lack of belief in hand creams that Sanghyuk’s baby sister rubs on his hands during tea parties insisting he keep them soft.

Hongbin focuses on looking at Jaehwan across the room. Jaehwan who has blonde hair now and is leaning against the wall while laughing at something someone from the football team said. Sanghyuk doesn’t know the name of the dude but he isn’t interested in finding out. Even while Hongbin asks after Sanghyuk’s family and school life, his eyes stray towards that corner of the room.

When Jaehwan returns his gaze and smiles at Hongbin, Hongbin smiles in a way his dimples appear. He has one of those faces. The kind you would see on magazines on the racks of newspaper stands at bus stops. The black eyeliner enhances his brown eyes and Sanghyuk thinks that all Hongbin is missing is a pretty nude shade lipstick. Though lipsticks do nothing except spread inconveniently when being kissed. Or so he has been told.

He hasn’t kissed Hongbin since the summer where he was fourteen but the urge never really goes away.

“I think I should go get a refill,” Hongbin says when Jaehwan walks over. Sanghyuk shrugs and Hongbin makes a beeline for the punch the same time Jaehwan appears by the island counter. Jaehwan is only here to chaperone his younger brother who is throwing the party, Sanghyuk gathers from the bits of conversation filtering through. The music is too loud for indoor voices to be heard. Hongbin is here just because Wonshik wanted to get drunk. Sanghyuk doesn’t need to eavesdrop to know that.

He taps out when the conversation progresses. He finds Wonshik who is truly wasted and is glad someone out of the three in this friend group is getting what they want out of the night. Sanghyuk wonders if it is a fair standard of evaluation if he started the night without knowing what he wanted. He looks towards Hongbin who is laughing at a weird face Jaehwan is making and adds a thought about unrealistic wants and needs.

It’s stupid. Hongbin is nineteen but is as unreachable as someone who would be twenty five. Hongbin is too pretty for him. Too smart, too pretty and too witty. They have too much history. And now Hongbin is kissing Jaehwan and is definitely not in love with Sanghyuk the way Sanghyuk is in love with him.

Wonshik pouts at Sanghyuk and leans forward till his head rests on Sanghyuk’s shoulder. Wonshik is only an inch taller. In a year or two, Sanghyuk is confident he will outgrow the other man. “I wish they wouldn’t suck faces in public” Wonshik grimaces when he follows Sanghyuk’s line of vision. Sanghyuk looks away and tugs his jacket closer. Maybe it is too short for him after all since it cannot afford the comfort of sleeve paws the way sweaters can. Maybe he should get a new jacket. Or maybe Sanghyuk should have just stayed at home.

Wonshik has a ride home and waves Sanghyuk off when he leaves the party. He makes his way to the bus stop at the end of the block and sits down. The party music is a hum in the background and the cold air is sobering. Sanghyuk weighs his options. He can go home and read for the rest of the night or walk to the arcade five blocks away and blow the rest of his pocket money and see if he can earn enough tickets to buy himself the badly stitched teddy bears they sell.

Hongbin likes those teddy bears. He’ll lie and say no if you ask him and spout bullshit about how they just represent the principle of winning that he loves so much. But he is a sucker for cute things and Sanghyuk knows from the way his eyes lit up when Sanghyuk won a brown teddy bear and threw it at him last summer. He has a small version threaded into the metal ring that acts as a keychain.

Sanghyuk thinks that he should stop thinking.

One year. Just a year, he tells himself. Then he’ll be off to university and he will meet other people and he might even discover that he doesn’t actually like dimples or brown eyes or rough hands so much. One more year and he won’t be haunted by the unrequited feelings that seem to grow stronger instead of fading against all laws of the universe and logic.

Sanghyuk treks back home and thinks he should worry about saving up for a second hand car or actually passing that stupid driver’s test. He finds his earphones tangled with the fabric of the inner pocket of his jacket once he reaches home and he laughs at the bad luck of his timing.

-

03

Hongbin doesn’t realise that he has gotten used to the loneliness that comes from Sanghyuk’s absence.

He calls during the first year of university. Hongbin thinks Sanghyuk’s voice on the phone sounds very different from the way it sounds in real life. It sounds deeper and grave in ways Hongbin doesn’t remember. Sanghyuk has always been wise beyond his years. Maybe he thrives in the real world with the same grown up concerns that Hongbin does not like grappling with.

Then Sanghyuk gets an email id because it is useful and sends emails instead of calling. The letters are short and really Hongbin is shit at keeping in touch because he doesn’t have anyone else who tries. Wonshik has always been in the same town and Sanghyuk has always been around to the point that Hongbin took his presence for granted. He never thought Sanghyuk would ever go away like his brother did.

The emails come once a week and then once a month and finally on holidays and only contain generic good wishes.

Until Wonshik shows up at his door with Sanghyuk in tow,carrying a small duffle bag filled with clothes and essentials. It’s just for a week while Wonshik’s studio gets renovated, he assures him. Sanghyuk only needs a couch to crash on for a week and he can move back in with Wonshik for the rest of winter till he has to go back to university for his final semester. Hongbin didn’t even know that Sanghyuk was in town and he used to know every secret once upon a time. He doesn’t know why he isn’t staying with his family and he doesn’t know if he can ask.

“You can stay as long as you need,” Hongbin says, offering to make coffee for everyone. Wonshik denies the offer. He needs to leave first and look over the renovation work on his studio.

Sanghyuk looks nothing like Hongbin remembers him. He is taller than Wonshik by a few inches and his voice is deeper. His shoulders are broad and the large overshirts he wears only accentuate them. He took to working out when they still talked on the phone. He must definitely be more muscular too. Gone is the lanky teenager in his father;s old leather jacket that Hongbin remembers. Instead Sanghyuk is an adult who looks more mature than he should for the young age of twenty one.

“I didn’t think you read Hemingway” Sanghyuk says, picking up a copy of Farewell To Arms that’s lying on the coffee table.

“It isn’t my book. Taekwoon tends to leave behind whatever he is reading at the moment” Hongbin tells him. Taekwoon does that a lot. Forgetting things at Hongbin’s place and coming back for them weeks later when he is finally free enough to spend the night. It’s a peaceful arrangement for their unlabelled relationship. If he can even call it a relationship.

“Are you sure Taekwoon doesn’t mind me staying over?” Sanghyuk asks.

“Taekwoon doesn’t live here. Not fully anyways. And if anything, he would be happy to meet another bookworm” Hongbin shrugs.

“He’ll be disappointed. It’s been a while since I didn’t read a book to write a critique or a report on it” Sanghyuk says ruefully.

He flips through the pages till he finds the section he was looking for and folds up his legs to read comfortably. Sanghyuk spends the next two days voraciously reading through the books Taekwoon has left behind. He doesn’t talk more than necessary. It snows on the third morning that Sanghyuk stays over and they exchange remarks about the weather. Hongbin opens up a bottle of wine on Christmas eve and Sanghyuk accompanies him wordlessly.

He prefers white wine, Hongbin supposes when Sanghyuk downs the entire contents of his glass and grimaces at the after taste. He has grown to tolerate the taste of mushrooms and no longer separates them out of the microwaveable pasta meal that Hongbin makes. He prefers typing on his laptop to writing in notebooks, he gathers when he sees Sanghyuk tapping away on the kitchen table with a mug full of coffee next to him. It’s the ‘World’s Best Mom’ mug that Taekwoon left behind that Hongbin finds supremely ugly but it matches Sanghyuk’s presence. Unconnected but a lone puzzle piece that sits as the centerpiece in the void of Hongbin’s life.

Sanghyuk doesn’t smoke, Hongbin finds when they are lying on Hongbin’s bed in his bedroom and Sanghyuk denies the offer. Never took a liking to it, Sanghyuk confesses. Hongbin listens to a vinyl that Wonshik gifted him two years ago for his birthday and Sanghyuk says nothing about the 80s music. He thumbs through the earmarked pages of a collection of poems by T S Elliot.

“Taekwoon must really like classics” Sanghyuk deduces. There are very few books on the coffee table but Sanghyuk is intimately acquainted with them in ways Hongbin isn’t.

“He’s a sucker for them. Also likes Murakami the way you did in high school” Hongbin answers. He doesn’t get the appeal for reading. He doesn’t have the talent of losing himself in the written word that Taekwoon and Sanghyuk do. He doesn’t even know if he should envy them for the easily available method of escaping the dreary world around them.

“He has good taste” Sanghyuk compliments him.

“It’s a shame that you couldn’t meet him on this visit. He’s off celebrating Christmas with his family.”

“There will be many days in the future,” Sanghyuk says lazily. The way he turns the other way and avoids looking at Hongbin tells him that the other days will not come any time soon. Hongbin thinks of the emails in his inbox that he merely glances over and never knows how to reply to and doesn’t blame Sanghyuk.

If only he didn’t have to leave tomorrow. If only he could stay.

When Hongbin puts his arm around Sanghyuk’s waist and closes his eyes, he pretends he has the right to ask him to stay and that Sanghyuk won’t be gone the morning after. He’ll only be a few streets down the road in Wonshik’s studio till spring comes and he might even visit if he stops being a coward that only regrets and never acts.

His waist is broader than Taekwoon’s and Hongbin keeps that comparison in mind for days after when Taekwoon finally comes to visit and Hongbin hugs him to kiss him. Everything is back to normal now that Sanghyuk is gone once again but the world feels displaced out of orbit by the knowledge of what Hongbin is missing.

-

04

“I met Sanghyuk” Wonshik says, running his hands through his hair. He adjusts his chair for the fifteenth time since the conversation has started, much to the displeasure of the lady at the table over, trying to read the newspaper in peace.

“That… is sudden” Hongbin says, swirling the creamer into his coffee. Hongbin has known that Wonshik was seeing someone for a while now but doesn’t know who till the confession. Now there is a name that Hongbin hasn’t heard in years. A person he couldn’t live without once but has not talked to in four years. Is he allowed to miss him after never keeping in touch?

“He’s back for good this time” Wonshik tells him. “He’s going to teach at our old middle school. He’s weirded out by the idea of being colleagues with his old teachers. Did you know Mrs Kim is still teaching math after all these years? I thought she was over sixty when we were kids.”

Wonshik rambles on and Hongbin pays him no thought. Sanghyuk’s name brings up memories and feelings that it shouldn’t. Hongbin wonders if he has gotten any taller or if his voice is still deeper than he remembers and if he signs off emails with regards.

“We should have dinner together sometime,” Hongbin says when Wonshik finally stops.

“I’ll text him. You can’t bail like you did last time though” Wonshik warns. Hongbin flinches at the warning and offers an apologetic smile. Wonshik frowns at him. “It’s been a while since the three of us got time to hang out. It has literally been years since we properly spent time together.”

“Well, I’m not the one that shifted towns and lost touch, am I?” Hongbin says out loud without meaning to.

Wonshik’s expression softens and he shifts again awkwardly. Hongbin and Sanghyuk’s estrangement as they grew older when Wonshik once thought they were in love with each other as teenagers is a development he never addresses because he knows it wasn’t his place to. Realistically speaking, he can’t be friends with both people and skirt around the issue forever. A decade is a miracle on that count.

“I’m sorry. I just… Will you text Sanghyuk and set dinner up?” Hongbin apologizes. His pleasant facade is back and Wonshik knows he will never see his true feelings about the issue again. The bitterness is real in a way most of Hongbin’s actions aren’t. And it gives him hope to salvage this friendship. Wonshik doesn’t fancy losing friends as he grows older when he only has so many to begin with.

“It’s okay to say you missed him, you know? I missed him too” Wonshik says without the expectations of acknowledgement or responses. Hongbin hums in the way people do when lying about agreeing with something a child says. Wonshik knows Hongbin is complicated and he doesn’t expect him to resolve his feelings any time soon.

“I wonder if he likes moving back to town after living in a big city all these years” Hongbin deflects. He hasn’t acknowledged his feelings in the four years since he last saw Sanghyuk and he isn’t about to start now. Any moments of weakness like the one earlier will not be repeated again.

It takes two bottles of soju only for Hongbin to mess up. Wonshik drags the two of them to a tent bar that sells a variety of rice cakes along with cheap soju and beer and Hongbin agrees despite the lack of fried chicken. It’s a Friday night and the three of them drink the night away and laugh at Sanghyuk’s stories from his earlier teaching days. Stories that range from innocent but hilarious spelling mistakes in answer papers to outrageous pranks that Sanghyuk personally admires but must punish as a teacher.

A laughing and happy Sanghyuk is better than the sad young man who spent a week on Hongbin’s couch, not talking to him about the troubles weighing on his mind. Happiness suits him in ways melancholy never did. Hongbin thinks his skin shines and his eyes twinkle and Sanghyuk must know this because he catches Hongbin looking at him and looks at him with such pity in his eyes. Sanghyuk pities him and Hongbin feels pathetic about feeling happy that he feels something.

And so Hongbin leans on his arm all the way home even after they drop Wonshik off at his apartment. He leans on his arm and holds onto it like a drowning sailor holding onto a lifebuoy so they don’t drown. And he tells Sanghyuk about how his hair is soft and shiny and his nose is a tiny button and he cannot help but lean up and graze his lips against it. Sanghyuk laughs and calls him drunk but lets him bask in his warmth because Sanghyuk is his puzzle piece that fits with his odd edges, even if he will never say those words out loud.

Sanghyuk is surprisingly strong because he hauls Hongbin up to his feet and all the way to his apartment. Hongbin kisses him on his cheeks and thanks him for taking him home while laughing about… about something. He doesn’t know what it is that triggers his giggling fit but something does and Hongbin exclaims at Sanghyuk who is ready to drop him on his butt in front of his door if he doesn’t get his keys out soon. He exclaims at him and kisses him on his lips when he has his attention and this is why alcohol is terrible for you really. All of this is a regret in waiting for the morning after.

Sanghyuk stumbles on his way down the stairs in a way that makes it look like he never learnt how to walk. His cheeks are warm where Hongbin kissed him and his lips tingle in the way they do after eating something extremely spicy. He leans against the pole of the lamp post and sighs when the tingling doesn’t go away. He thinks of how he will hide this from Hakyeon.

It’s so easy to say nothing but a part of him vehemently protests about deceiving Hakyeon when Sanghyuk knows his residual feelings for Hongbin still linger. He should love his boyfriend more than the old flame who kissed him in the hallway. He shouldn’t have to remind himself that he loves Hakyeon and not Hongbin. Hakyeon is the one waiting for the text that says he got home safely and didn’t drink too much and he really shouldn’t let Wonshik drag him out on school nights. Not Hongbin, who Sanghyuk just dropped home, drunk out of his mind and still as complicated at thirty as he was at thirteen.

Sanghyuk really hates Hongbin more on nights like these.

“I don’t know what to do” he confesses to Hakyeon weeks after they break up. His feelings for Hongbin have always been a vine that grips his heart. He knows he cannot be rid of them without significant pain and hurt and so like a coward, he lets it fester because he knows he can ignore them forever. The roots dig into the walls of his heart and make him bleed and he bleeds because he is the biggest coward to exist on this planet.

“You do what your heart tells you is the right thing” is all Hakyeon says. He’s disappointed and it’s more than Sanghyuk deserves after everything Sanghyuk has just told Hakyeon. Hakyeon who is all gentle smiles and understanding and who Sanghyuk is grateful to even if it must end this way.

“Loving Hongbin is dangerous. He hurts you and nothing comes out of it and then he hurts you some more” Sanghyuk tells Hakyeon. Hongbin hasn’t called or texted after that night. Sanghyuk hasn’t either but its only because he knows Hongbin hates confronting his own feelings. He breaks hearts before his own can be broken and Sanghyuk thinks limbo of not knowing is better than definite pain.

“I don’t think you have it in you to stop,” Hakyeon says. His words would hurt if Sanghyuk didn’t feel tormented enough already. He sighs because he has no words and Hakyeon shifts the topic to other things that don’t matter in the moment and keeps the chatter up till it is no longer awkward to end the phone call.

When the call ends, Sanghyuk brings up his messaging app and stares at Hongbin’s number and watches the bubbles appear and disappear in the messages window.  As always, no texts follow and Sanghyuk leaves his phone on the nightstand because he should know better than to have hope.

Sanghyuk wonders bitterly if he has loved Hongbin or if he has regretted him longer.

-

[tuoyu]

oooooo what are ur favourite Murakami books/stories??

aah ty v much for asking!! sorry for this long reply i j have. a lot of thoughts abt mr. murakami djfsk i do like most of the books ive read by him...i have terrible memory of what actually happened in them but i do rmm how much i enjoyed them ;o i think my favourite is his debut work(s) wind/pinball. i think the atmosphere, the carefree yet mystical tone was perfect. i can’t rly describe it, but it’s definitely my favourite despite this work of his being usually overlooked...there’s also norwegian wood, the first book by him that i read .. i was in high school n feeling v edgy lol so it resonated w me a lot back then? so that’s another favourite for sentimental reasons i guess! 

besides here r some other works by him i liked

1q84 / ,,, some aspects of this was big yikes but the intense longing between the two leads ... *chef’s kiss* literally the only thing keeping me going thru 900+ pages hhh

dance, dance, dance & after dark / idk i jus found these works to b v pleasing to read.. similar to why i liked wind/pinball sm? the ~vibes~ 

edit: wait i forgot sputnik sweetheart wtf kdjfkds sputnik sweetheart !!!!!!!!!! <33

kafka on the shore / hhh the mystical , surrealist writing jumped out! i was . kind of bored sometimes but there were some rly nicely written dialogue, a trans character defending himself iirc !! the protagonist is a 15y/o but i jus love how mature he sounded lmao 

wind up bird chronicles / this is included for having one of the best novel beginnings ive ever read,,,

ive read some of his short story compilations but ngl i cant rmm any of them !! maybe the second bakery attack was rly nice and also the stories included this compilation called desire. 

also acknowledging that even though i enjoy his writing style... i found some of his content consistently uncomfortable to read ie. the way he portrays some characters, (esp underage girls) + some other v cursed scenes i can’t think of rn.. hmm yeah bad vibes 

[chiefbuttons]

Happy New Year! Books are the Best!

In 2018 I went to Japan, filled some bookshelves, and read more than the usual amount of literary biographies. In Japan, we navigated the bookstore in which Haruki Murakimi apparently bought his first fountain pen. While there, I bought copies of two of my favourite Japanese books: Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto, and Book 1 (of 6) of 1Q84.

Japanese books are very beautiful, and all very uniform. There were hundreds of book protectors on sale in every bookshop and stationery shop (we went to a lot of those – the Iroshizuku ink was soooo cheap!), I had to remind myself that books in the UK don’t fit into them to stop myself from bringing them all home. Now that I have at least one  Banana Yoshimoto book in Japanese, there’s more incentive than ever to try and learn the language. I’ve been thinking a lot this year about how much is lost or gained in translation and what that does to a book depending on the language you read. This Little Art by Kate Briggs is a novel-length essay on exactly this topic, and I read it not long after The Idiot in which the protagonist has a crisis about language and how words can lose their meaning. They fit together very well in my head – both asked and tried to provide answers to questions about translation, like why even do it at all if meaning is going to be lost? Having read Murakami’s most recent book, Killing Commendatore, I’m still not sure if the absence of Jay Rubin as translator is responsible for my disappointment with it, or if it was just a bad book, or if Haruki Murakami has never been that great and it was all Jay Rubin all along.

This Little Art, The Idiot, Shirley and Romantic Outlaws are probably my favourites from this year. Also Daphne du Maurier’s short story The Breakthrough, from Don’t Look Now. Sinister, terrifying, haunting, all words that fall short of describing the atmosphere of that one short story.

I read Shirley after reading Outsiders by Lyndall Gordon. I had tried to read it before and had never been able to get past the first chapter, but something about Outsiders made me want to try again. Reading Outsiders made me realise in a way that I hadn’t before that books written in the last couple of centuries aren’t as far removed from us as I had thought. Previously, when reading books from different time periods, I had become as detached as if I was reading fantasy; I forgot that the stories being told were often very firmly set in social, political and cultural climates that had once existed. It helped me to find ways to empathise with the narrators and the characters, and make them much more human and relatable. While reading Shirley, instead of feeling like the characters and situations were a million miles away, I forced myself to remember that Charlotte Brontë was writing about events that were important to the people in the time she was writing about. Her father witnessed Luddite uprisings. The setting of Shirley with its discussions of workers’ rights and its attacks on mills was as real for Charlotte and her father as Brexit and Trump are for us now.

Turtles All The Way Down – John Green

My Twentieth Century Evening and Other Small Breakthroughs – Kazuo Ishiguro

Manderley Forever: Daphne du Maurier, A Life – Tatiana de Rosnay

Don’t Look Now & other short stories – Daphne du Maurier

Outsiders: Five Women Writers who Changed the World – Lyndall Gordon

Shirley – Charlotte Brontë

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The first time I tried to read Shirley, I struggled to get past the first three chapters. "This is not as good as Jane Eyre or Villette," I thought. And, of course, I was wrong. How did I come to change my mind and try again? It was because I read Outsiders by Lyndall Gordon. It was sometimes difficult to read; lots of what felt like fact-listing, and the events of the five lives studied are not always in chronological order, which would not be a problem if it was made clearer. This made it difficult to get through but did not affect my ability to be grateful for all the new information and the future reading list (I have a charity shop copy of Middlemarch now sitting on top of a book pile, and am searching for some Olive Schreiner). It also provided me with new reasons to persevere with Shirley. Though the Brontë sister included in this book is Emily, not Charlotte, it is impossible to talk about one without mentioning the other. Especially when Charlotte included a characters based on Emily in a novel: Shirley Keeldar and Caroline Helstone. To read someone's fictionalised perception of her sisters' characters, I thought, would be a very strange experience. And it is, it sometimes feels weirdly voyeuristic. In the future we are all in on the secret. A huge theme throughout Outsiders is the rights of women and how their role has changed over time; Shirley is referred to as an incredibly feminist book. And it is. Jane Eyre has nothing on it. Still feminist, but this is in-your-face "what are we supposed to do all day, cook and sew??" "…yes. I hate womenites." So I decided to read it again but placing it as contemporary, rather than viewing it as a relic of the past which I should accept that I can't always understand or relate to. Putting these new perspectives on it has really helped me to get into the book. This is a huge post. Shirley is great. (Also the first time Shirley was used as a female name!) #bookstagram #Shirley #charlottebrontë #outsiders #lyndallgordon #brontë #nowreading

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Feb 22, 2018 at 1:34pm PST

In Search of Anne Brontë – Nick Holland

Moshi Moshi – Banana Yoshimoto

Asleep – Banana Yoshimoto

Valley of the Dolls – Jacqueline Susan

Eleanor and Park – Rainbow Rowell

Winter – Ali Smith

Banshee, Volumes 2 & 5

My Uncle Oswald – Roald Dahl

Young Hearts Crying – Richard Yates

The White Book – Han Kang

Wuthering Heights – Emily Brontë

The Idiot – Elif Batuman

Emily Brontë Reappraised: A View from the 21st Century – Claire O’Callaghan

A Cup Of Sake Beneath The Cherry Trees – Yoshida Kenko

This Little Art – Kate Briggs

The Lonely City – Olivia Laing

The Diary of a Bookseller – Shaun Bythell

Sputnik Sweetheart – Haruki Murakami

A Cat, A Man and Two Women – Junichiro Tanazaki

N. P. – Banana Yoshimoto

Romantic Outlaws – Charlotte Gordon

The Pilgrims – Mary Shelley

Bartleby The Scrivener – Herman Melville

Behind A Wardrobe In Atlantis – Emma J. Lannie

The Hatred of Poetry – Ben Lerner

Convenience Store Woman – Sayuka Murata

Demian – Herman Hesse

Revolutionary Girl Utena 20th Anniversary companion book

The Penguin Book of Japanese Short Stories – Edited by Jay Rubin, Introduction by Haruki Murakami

The Beginning of the World in the Middle of the Night – Jen Campbell

The Tales of Beedle the Bard – J.K. Rowling, Illustrated by Chris Riddell

We went to a talk given by Chris Riddell at Nottingham Trent University. He was answering questions about his work on the newly illustrated Beedle the Bard while drawing for us live. He signed my copy of The Edge Chronicles Maps, and was generally very lovely.

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Tonight we went to see Chris Riddell speaking with Dr Sarah McConnell at Nottingham Trent University. There were live illustrations, and Shauna Shim did dramatic readings from The Tales of Beedle The Bard. I've been reading The Edge Chronicles since I picked up a copy of Beyond The Deepwoods AT THE LIBRARY (libraries, man!), aged 11, and thought it had the best front cover I had ever seen. Now that I'm older, if Chris Riddell has illustrated something I assume it's good and read it. Thank-you @chris_riddell for staying super late after your talk to speak to everyone and sign everything! @ntucreated #nottinghamtrent #illustration #theedgechronicles #beyondthedeepwoods

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Oct 3, 2018 at 2:26pm PDT

Ariel – Sylvia Plath

Charlotte Brontë Revisited: A View from the 21st Century – Sophie Franklin

Killing Commendatore – Haruki Murakami

By The Light of My Father’s Smile – Alice Walker

Agnes Grey – Anne Brontë

Rough Magic – Paul Alexander

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HAPPY FRIDAY GUYS

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Dec 21, 2018 at 1:55pm PST

How To Be Invisible – Kate Bush

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Merry Kate-mas =D

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Dec 25, 2018 at 9:34am PST

Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom – Sylvia Plath

This year I would like to write more about the books I am reading – this blog has been very neglected for the past couple of years! I’ve been occasionally taking part in the Are You Book Enough bookbinding challenge on instagram again. This time last year I was working on the January 2018 theme Darkness. I wrote and illustrated a story called The Black Ribbon. It was inspired by the Tatiana de Rosnay biography of Daphne du Maurier, in which de Rosnay refers to Daphne du Maurier’s depressive episodes as her “black ribbon.” It’s also a tribute to Edward Gorey. I thought his style of illustration would be best suited to the story I was telling, so I had a go at reproducing his style.

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Part 2 of my #AreYouBookEnough January book. Here are all the illustrations and the story I wrote inspired by Edward Gorey, Daphne du Maurier and Tatiana de Rosnay. Please see my previous post for the explanation! #bookart #bookstagram #handmadebooks #illustration #edwardgorey

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Jan 30, 2018 at 1:43pm PST

Another of the books I made this year was a book in a box for the theme Listen. I chose to bind a book of Kate Bush’s Fifty Words For Snow from her song and album of the same name.

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This is my contribution to the August #AreYouBookEnough bookbinding challenge, #listen . I love to listen to music, and Kate Bush is one of my favourites. Why choose Fifty Words For Snow when I could choose any of her songs? Why does it fit the theme best? The song is a list. It's Stephen Fry reciting fifty words for snow – some made up by Kate Bush, some real. She wanted him to be the narrator because people believe the words he says, he is intelligent and speaks with a quiet authority.  Hearing him speak her fictional words for snow makes them sound real. Snow itself deadens sound but has sounds of its own; one of the words is "creaky-creaky." I hope whoever looks at my book can hear the snow behind the words. This is the first time I've made this kind of box, and my measurements are a bit off (the lid is loose!) but overall I'm pleased and know what to do better next time! The paper is very fibrous, I wanted something that looked and felt like snow. Both the front cover of the book and the lid of the box are padded. The ink I used to write the fifty words is a mixture of two different inks – white calligraphy ink and a Grey Plum Kwiz ink. I'm going to have to find a way to photograph it properly because it is almost pearlescent! If you hold the paper a certain way it disappears. Hold it to the light and it looks like it is glowing. I'll try and get some video footage of it. #AreYouBookEnough #bookart #handmade #katebush #fiftywordsforsnow #50wordsforsnow #listen #books #snow #music

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Aug 30, 2018 at 12:36am PDT

I will leave you with a picture of the new bookcase. I hope you have an excellent 2019!

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Got a new phone. The cats ran away so I took a picture of one of the bookcases. It's so shiny

A post shared by Adelle Hay (@chiefbuttons) on Dec 6, 2018 at 1:28pm PST

  Books I read in 2018 Happy New Year! Books are the Best! In 2018 I went to Japan, filled some bookshelves, and read more than the usual amount of literary biographies.

[scriptaed]

wow. just—wow. ink nemesis 4 just ripped my heart out of my chest, yet it felt more like a dream than literal sense ??? like ??? i can’t even put my feels down properly; it made reminded me of one of Murakami’s book called Sputnik Sweetheart //my all time fav// and just— gosh i really am in love with your writing :’)) and since yoongs captured my frail heart too, these two combined would most probably be my cause of death once you finish the series :’)) thank you for the update i appreciate it:)

is my work actually being compared to an actual novel ?!?! i definitely need to check that book out sometime cause it sounds ~magical~ :o ahhh thank you so much for this message :”) you have no idea how much it means to me. i’m smiling so hard gahh thanks bb!!!

[bentostudy]

10, 14, 29 for the asks!

Hey hey hey!!!!

10. Do you like your name? Would you ever change it?

I’ve never liked my name. It’s never sat right with me but lots of people call me by my surname, mostly my close friends and that makes me feel more comfortable because it’s less personal in a way? Idk I’m weird abt it. I don’t think I’d change it though, for the simple reason that I don’t really care what people call me. I’m down for whatever other people prefer to call me!

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic?

ABSOLUTELY NOT *hides the romance novels cramming my book shelves* *closes 500 tabs of fanfic* *closes the curtains to shut out the sunset which is NOT encouraging cheesy romantic, poetic daydreams* *deletes entire Spotify playlists dedicated to romantic moods*What the hell’s romantic? 😳

29. Do you like reading? What was the last thing you read?

I do like reading, (mostly romance, heh). I don’t read enough books, but recently I read Sputnik Sweetheart which I really enjoyed and I’ve started to read Alone in Berlin. I’m about 30 pages in and already it’s probably the most depressing book I’ve ever read. I read a lot of fanfic, and the latest one was (for the third time) Eyes Wide Open all the Time by @macbetha. If you like the anime Free! then definitely check it out. It’s my favourite story, counting both published books and fanfic. It’s a bit dark and heartbreaking but it’s really beautifully written, and the happy moments make up for it!

Thank you for asking! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[healthy-adult]

PSA please read Murakami

last month, roughly 8 minutes after i rolled off a cot from an painful ink session Mikka called me and spewed their thoughts of Sputnik Sweetheart to me, i thought oh yes one of my books that survived the fire, still impacting people beyond me! tell me more! so they read a couple passages back to me and concluded it's entirely about dissociation, and that's probably why i felt possessed by the story at the time. and i was like oh shit everything irks me. and i told them it made me feel adjacent to satan

[je0n]

tagged by: @eatsjins (nina i love u)

1. Name: ann 


2. Nicknames: ann is technically a nickname but my aunt sometimes calls me nino and my friends sometimes call me nessie abdbsn
 (my brain @ me: bitch what friends)

3. Zodiac Sign: gemini


4. Height: 5′9 


5. Orientation: bi


6. Nationality: bosnian 


7. Favourite Fruit: RASPBERRIES 


8. Favourite Season: summer


9. Favourite Book: anything by haruki murakami tbh.. at the moment I really like sputnik sweetheart


10. Favourite Movies: too many absjsks some of them include blue is the warmest color, carol (just feed me all that Gay shit), anything w tom hanks in it esp forrest gump, bridge of spies, saving mr banks & apollo 13, uhhh also the imitation game, now you see me, the martian, the devil wears prada, inception etc. etc. 


11. Favourite Scent: my favorite perfumes atm are NYC by elizabeth arden and feels like summer by s’oliver (i literally looked up the name of this perfume online bc i was too lazy to get up and check the actual perfume adsgbjksfnsjknf) 
but out of ‘regular’ scents i really like lavender and orchid

12. Favourite Color: any shade of blue


13. Favourite Animal: dogs


14. Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: hot chocolate


16. Favourite Fictional Character: i love hyde and kelso from that 70s show and also seto kaiba from yugioh and prince wang eun from scarlet heart


17. Number of blankets to sleep with: highly depends on the season but anything from 1 to like 3, sometimes even 4......i have poor blood circulation and im highly sensitive to cold ajdjksfhjk


18. Dream Trip: uhhh a n y w h e r e??? i really wanna go to jeju island though


19. Blog created: july 2011 (l o l)


20. Number of Followers: 6145

21. Random fact: i like classical music........A Lot 

i tag: @k-o-o-k-m-i-n, @jahehyung, @defendkimseokjin, @jeylovestoblog, @bbgguk, @joonienamjoon, @sugareds, @mygsjjk, @sixiz, @btsyf, @floofiejimin, @velvetjjks, @gukiday, @hobintae & anyone else who might want to do this!!!!! obviously you’re in no way obligated to do this but it would be fun to read more about you guys!! also lmk if being tagged in is annoying andjdsfs ily