I talk to dead writers and literary characters at times, when I am daydreaming. As one does.

Perfume the book: When Jean-Baptiste Grenouille came to the village



Rumors had been going around for days, about a man who had come to the village. Some of the villagers said that he is a writer because of the way he disappears in a crowd, leaving them unaware of his whereabouts, while others said he was a ghost because of his tendencies to roam around the village during the night when the place falls quiet. CONTINUE READING...

Reading The Human Stain


There’s often a moment in a good book that stands out and becomes imprinted in our mind. It’s a moment that never dies, that feels alive, despite it being fiction, and it happens over again, every time someone picks up the book to read it for the first time. Moments like Mrs. Dalloway’s pause comes to mind, Captain Wentworth’s letter to Anne Eliot and practically everything Remedios the beauty does in One Hundred Years of Solitude. CONTINUE READING...

Reading A passage to india


Lost in the world of E.M. Forster while reading A Passage to India.

Let’s go to India darling. Let’s drink tea in the shadow of elephants and hear our voices reverberate in the Marabar Caves. Let us hush darling, come, come, so we can allow the quiet world of Forster to unfold. CONTINUE READING...