I recently developed a habit which I find most insufferable. Reading a book halfway and for some reasons not able to finish it. I could not fathom the rationale behind it because back in Singapore I never had that problem.
Okay, maybe once.
I attempted Peter Carey's Oscar and Lucinda but I guess I was probably too young and too ignorant, not to mention too impatient to fight my way through the long thick book that I gave up eventually. Till today, I still wonder about the plot and the characters development. I kick myself for not sticking it out till the end and be rewarded by its (as claimed by many) beautiful literacy style. Like how I did with Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie.
I might have grumbled to the friends just how long-winded Rushdie can be that it takes pages before he reaches a point and not forgetting his weighty political talk. Midnight's Children remains however an extraordinary piece of work because Rushdie is without a doubt a literary master. His wittiness and intellect and his knack for an array of puns, wordplay and rhyme is dazzling. His cleverly crafted lines left me mesmerized and yearning for more.
Naturally after such a masterpiece, it is almost impossible to find another book of the same caliber. Not that the current book, Absolute Friends by John LeCarre, is mediocre. While it is rather engaging, it lacks Rushdie's Midas touch of witty wordplay which I often devoured with relish. Sure, the comparison is unfair to LeCarre. But it's like having to choose between a durian and rambutan, the choice is very obvious. The durian, the king of fruits it is of course.
Hence, I am currently stuck. I am itching to get another Rushdie's book to quench my literary thrist. And many other books on my list as well.
But to avoid history repeating itself, I have to repress that temptation for now and bloody finish my current book first!
On second thought, having the humble rambutan once in a while is not such a bad idea at all.
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