i am defined by a hyphen

“”…there came a time when I was only half Japanese because one is not born in America and raised in America and taught in America and one does not speak and swear and drink and smoke and play and fight and see and hear in America among Americans in American streets and houses without becoming American and loving it…I wish with all my heart that I were Japanese or that I were American. I am neither and I blame you and I blame myself and I blame the world which is made up of many countries which fight with each other and kill and hate and destroy but not enough, so they must kill and hate and destroy again and again and again…”

“…when one is born in America and learning to love it more and more every day without thinking it, it is not an easy thing to discover suddenly that being American is a terribly incomplete thing if one’s face is not white.”

John Okada, arguably one of the first Asian Americans writers, wrote No-No Boy in 1954 and died in obscurity believing that Asian America had rejected his work. It is a pity that writers who capture the hearts and souls of the minority, the counter-narrative, are usually rejected by contemporaries or publishers and not rediscovered until they are dead.

The book is written in a stream-of-consciousness fashion with telescoping effects. Often times Ichiro would follow one thought to another and the reader can get a sense of ‘zooming out’ as his feelings turn into feelings of the neighborhood, then city, then state, then nation, and so on. It’s a very interesting effect because we must remember that Ichiro is not merely himself, he represents all Japanese-Americans who were “no-no boys” – that is, those who refused to serve in WWII – some due to confusion about the question, others because the thought of killing their own brothers and relatives was too much.Other times, Okada would switch point of view from Ichiro to an anonymous Japanese-American linked by a common thread of insecurity about their race.

What’s also interesting is the guilt, shame and embarrassment he has for himself- he would have rather lost his legs in the war than be a “no-no boy”. This is the backdrop to all his ramblings – every action he has is linked to his mother, or his father, or his love interest, or Kenji. Everyone has a stake in Ichiro, and all he can do is sort out the good advice from the bad and be comfortable for who he is. With a touch of Japanese nationalism along with good ole American independence, Ichiro realizes that maybe there’s nothing wrong with him – maybe America is a facade in the way it gives you all these hopes and dreams but never lets you become an equal with the white faces. Like all of us Asian Americans, we are seen before we are seen: and only when we stop seeing ourselves through the eyes of who we think have the most rights to this country can we have a stake in this country we grew up in too.

–

No-No boy meant a lot to me. I never knew where to place myself in the context of race; I only knew what I didn’t want to identify with. With Chinese people my age, I would feel a huffy sort of annoyance when they started speaking Chinese in public, along with guilt for not having enough balls to speak it back and also a yearning to be fluent. With white people, I felt inevitably a sense of inferiority and became instantly this shy, awkward person who wasn’t really worth getting to know. I envied those races in school who were stereotyped to be more acceptable to white people who found them interesting. But the truth is, the struggle between wanting to be a perfect traditional Chinese daughter and also wanting the benefits of being American, is a stupid struggle. I am neither fully American or fully Chinese. It’s too late. My parents can’t expect me to be 100% Chinese if they didn’t raise me from where they lived.  I am more than my race, I am Asian-American. And it feels good to finally know how to express that in words.

—

Academics:

Science classes are incredibly hard but I am dealing with it even with research and a job. There’s this really inspirational quote in my physics workbook: “either time controls you, or your control time”. How true is that?? If I dedicate an hour or so to studying everyday, I won’t be swamped. I wish I knew how to study like this in high school.

…thinking of an English minor.

–

Personal:

I have no way of telling people about something that’s been on my mind because everyone is still caught up in their own stuff. Also the one person I probably could tell I won’t because it’s such a pride issue. Once you make me feel vulnerable, I will never want to feel that way again. That’s why I need to keep that person at arm’s length. Not everyone can be who you want them to be and you shouldn’t force anyone into a mold of who you’re looking for.

in other news,  I made a lot of acquaintances into solid friends last night. I realized you can’t really get to know other people if you’re in a relationship. If I was tied down to someone throughout the whole kickback, then I wouldn’t have been able to have such awesome conversations with other people. But also I’m not bitter about it.. I just realized that I should never ever be in a “relationship”in the most rigorous definition of it until way later. Right now is not the time to have limits.

–

“Don’t stop inspiring me
Sometimes it’s hard to keep on running
We work so much to keep it going
Don’t make me want to give up”

 

it’s like punching a mountain lion in the face

“Society is so confused, Mitch thought. Everone wanted to become the person they were already pretending to be”

“As he spoke these forty-six words, twenty-two autonomous teenagers stared into his transfixing reptilian face, thinking the following twenty-two respective thoughts:

- how awesome it would feel to be sleeping
-what it would feel like to be asleep
-Sleeping
-the potential upside of being comatose
-the meaning (and linguistic derivation) of the phrase Gunter gliebe glauchen globen,” as heard during the preface to Def leppard’s “Rock of Ages”
-being asleep, possibly inside a ski lodge
-robot cows
-That one eigth grader with the insane tits
-Sleeping
-Robot Cows
-being Gay.
-The prospect of a person being able to successfully ride on the back of a grizzly bear, assuming the bear was properly muzzled.

… etc”

In this fargo-esque story of 3 intertwining narratives, Klosterman presents to us a down, town – Owl. Told from 3 different age groups, we are familiarized with the teenagers, the adults, and the old people of Owl. Nothing really happens, actually – just bullshit stuff that always happens in high school which is actually what makes it so entertaining. At first I thought it was a little like the Real World (in which Klosterman is obsessed with anyway) but quickly realized that 1) none of the characters were annoyingly vain and/or slutty and 2) these people are a lot more conscious and smart in realizing that their futures are largely going to lie within a nowhere town and die exactly how they lived- talking about the same bullshit that they’ve been talking about their whole lives.

But this is precisely what makes downtown owl so intriguing. These characters are like us, despite their rather quirky lives – Mitch is a typical sleepy teenager (though probably a lot more insightful than most people we knew as teens), Horace is the sweet old man (reminiscent of the man in Up – think grouchy, kind of cute, and super sad), and Julia is the vivacious newcomer drunk-in-training loving who she can’t have when everyone else is pretty much available. The stories are funny by unconventional writing – sometimes Klosterman makes lists, sometimes he does the whole “What they say” and “What they’re thinking” shindig and sometimes it’s long digressions from the conversation on hand about how so-and-so go their nickname. Everyone Klosterman introduces has some ridiculously wild backstory to them that makes the town instantly familiar and at one point I even questioned if this was an autobiography (in which I flipped to the front and read “This is a non-autobiographical work of fiction” and a friend said “It’s all a bunch of bullshit”.

This is the first I’ve read of “small town quirkiana” as some critics call it. There is one thing though – most people in that small town (besides Horace and other peripheral characters) seems to be too smart. That is, all the characters seem to be an offshoot of Klosterman and his ideas about life – and in this I see some kind of vanity that Klosterman has (no doubt without credit.. he is a pretty funny guy). So maybe he should stick to essays?

–

English 125E – books to read: oscar wao, extremely loud and incredibly close, road, atonement, never let me go.

That class sounds awesome. I want to take it. I saw the syllabus when I was at a meeting and instantly thought “now that’s a class that sounds really fun”.

–

“stop nagging me. if you say the same thing again i’m going upstairs”

“you can’t blame me for nagging you. you’re the only person who will listen”

probably the saddest response ever.

–

in other news, while cleaning my room, I found Where the Sidewalk Ends! it is genius.

–

got drunk txted by my friend. but nothing was revealed or shocking.

 

sober adventures

So yesterday my roommates thought it would be a great idea to take the zipcar to Lake Merritt, get some food from taco truck, go to a 24 hour donut shop, and then go to grizzly peak.

It was pretty beautiful and looked roughly like this. Except we saw it with our own eyes. We think that bright rectangle is underhill. Drove up the winding pathway with wilco and a supportive gang.

And then we went to LBL and sat on the slippery whale (from the rain). And then I saw this fountain, thought it was empty, stepped in it, turned out it wasn’t empty. Jumped across the water to the

middle of the fountain. Friend prompted roommate to jump, she barely got on but not without bashing her shin and skinning it to the bone.

Decide to go to Alta bates ER.

roommate: “It looks like my bone”

RN: “It IS your bone” *continues whistling nonchalantly*

roommate: *starts to cry*

extend zipcar reservation every hour.

take friend home, gives me a book and food. I read about one paragraph before I go in with roommate.

waited there until 5:30 AM to get stitches. roommate fell asleep while doctor was stitching her.

go to waiting room, listen to other roommate complain about roommate at home complaining about being home alone. Eat string cheese.

all i can say is, everyone deserves better and nobody deserves to be a sideline ho.

fun night though, despite injuries.

–

“everyone’s going to hurt you. you just got to find the ones worth suffering for”

 

don’t ever tell anyone anything…

RIP Salinger? although heard from Joyce Maynard you were a douche.

Turns out you still have to lie in college

- when you come home late

- about your true intentions

- for suitable first impressions

- about who you are, when you realize you don’t even know who you are.

where is the acceptance? since when do I have to justify myself? I thought my lying days were over when I left high school behind.. now I’m more honest with my dad than my roommates. Receive and don’t judge. I am not you.

leave me alone, i don’t want to listen to your music, dance, or go. i want to sit here and read anna karenina. sometimes i think all you are made up of is 10 meaningful quotes, arrogant music, and a headful of hair.

–

reading no-no boy

and anna karenina

also found an amazing bookstore in the telegraph-channing tunnel, bought seven books for 11 dollars. what a sweet deal, man.

–

listening to

the maccabees, the mother hips

–

hurdled with someone i love and hate

lied about where i was later to hairgirl, inexplicably. there is nothing really to hide?

 

never let me go…

” That was the only time, as I stood there, looking at that strange rubbish, feeling the wind coming across those empty fields, that I started to imagine just a little fantasy thing, because this was Norfolk after all, and it was only a couple of weeks since I’d lost him. I was thinking about the rubbish, the flapping plastic in the branches, the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing, and I half-closed my eyes and imagined this was the place where every thing I’d ever lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing here in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until I’d see it was Tommy, and he’d wave, maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that- I didn’t let it – and though the tears rolled down my face, I wasn’t sobbing or out of control. I just waited a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off to wherever it was I was supposed to be.”

It’s a long quote, but I think only long quotes can give a proper feel of the book. Written simply and honestly, Ishiguro writes an eerie yet very human story of a love that was found too late. I didn’t think it was much of a science fiction until I was jolted out of the blue with nonchalant comments after 50 or so pages. I remember I started reading this book when I was on a plane to Finland, and I actually stopped reading it because I was seriously confused as to why they were in a “special school” and was too frustrated to follow Kathy’s thoughts.

I think this book made it to the top 100 must read books (according to Times) because it is tragic, but not dramatic, a science fiction story but also a love story, and alarming but also melancholy. Definetly an addicting read that will dipslace you many times. Felt like I was in a beautiful nightmare.

* I found out they’re making a movie based on this book coming out next year with Keira Knightly! I don’t know what I think of that.

–

ugh i can’t wait until I’m in Berkeley. I feel like Sacramento is here where you raise families, get old, and get depressed. It is definetly not a place for a young adult to be. Get out!

also why are people so afraid of words and theories that separate someone who is “single” to someone who is “committed” I just had this conversation with someone, and I feel like people are so afraid of that word, being “committed”, even if you’re already going through the actions. As if suddenly saying you’re one way or the other makes what you’re already doing different. It’s like once you say you’re one or the other, things have to change instead of following your feelings that have kept you happy in the time being. Why are people impatient to label, and why are some scared of the word? I suppose it’s a sense of security one feels if you’re in “a relationship” but I guess I just don’t see the point of it.

/500 days of summer rant

 

the power of sensationalism

“The power of one is above all things the power to believe in yourself, often well beyond any latent ability you may have previously demonstrated. The mind is the athlete; the body is simply the means it uses to run faster or longer, jump higher, shoot straighter, kick better, swim harder, hit further, or box better. It meant thinking well beyond the powers of normal concentration and then daring your courage to follow your thoughts.”

Courtenay’s story of Peekay and the power of one would be sensationalist crap if it weren’t set in1940’s racist South Africa. The story was told from Peekay’s point of view, at first tedious and childish (he was only 5) but more interesting as he matured. However, his constant explanation of his actions gives no credit to readers to figure out his subtle intentions. Also, after his initial “humiliating childhood” (as quoted in the summary), everything seems to come easily for him after he learns how to box from prison guards and gets his education from a librarian and a German “doc”. His scams in private school with his Jewish sidekick also seem to come with no consequences and no difficulty, although it is annoyingly fun to read. The ending was not as digustingly sensationalist as the rest of the book, which is why I consider “Book Three” to be a refreshing break from precocious schoolboy Peekay maturing into dark young adult Peekay.

Other than that, it was a swashbuckling (I just wanted to use this word, honestly) story that could give Harry Potter a run for his money.

–

I felt like I was reading this as the main character’s diary, which was actually kind of interesting since the main problems later in the book he encountered were his struggles with his own motives and dreams instead of problems coming from external forces. Maybe the goal was terribly cheesy: “I want to be welterweight champion of the world” but I felt like the message was pretty important, for me personally, especially at the end when he decided to not go to college because he felt like all he was fulfilling the dreams of all his mentors and loved ones. And I thought, isn’t that what we all do, do whoever taught us, whoever loved us, wanted us to do? It’s time we get down to what WE want and be individuals in the world, and be come forces and influence other suckers into it later when we become old and IB teachers.

 

I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze.. my dolly, my folly

“The moral sense in mortals is the duty we have to pay on mortal sense of beauty”

^Think about it.

Lolita was such a wordgasm. Nabokov’s first language isn’t even English but he writes like it was flowing from his veins, like it is some involuntary act upon which he bestows on us little people. It was one of those books that I wanted to read with absolutely no sound around me so I could absorb each passage visually and have the words reverberate in my head. I actually moved away from the television, away from conversations, and told people to be quiet when moving around. If all that failed, I stopped reading until things were quiet again.

I would have never understood why anyone would read such a novel that is about an older man in love with little girls. That was perhaps exactly why Nabokov wrote this book – to make such a taboo subject  innocent, romantic, and beautiful.

I am not defending Humbert Humbert (the sorry object of Lolita’s allure) by any means, but this “tragicomedy” – some parts are actually really clever and funny… and even meta -  humanizes Humbert Humbert into someone we can all recognize and have sympathy for – someone who loves so truly and unconditionally it is at the same time pathetic and pure.

fun fact: Nabokov’s wrote Lolita in English first and translated to Russian after.

fun fact #2: One of the publishers he sent Lolita to asked him to change Lolita into a young boy and Humbert into a farmer.

fun fact #3: Nabokov coined the word “nymphet” and “faunlet” after this book was published.

cool new word: insouciance

—

While I was reading this I came across a really weird page that freaked me out:

I was really confused, but I was immediately filled with a sense of self importance: who else’s Lolita has a weird misprinted corner on page 245? Ha, that’s what I thought.

 

everything’s different, but not really

come hither

I read this book rather brokenly throughout the first half of my semester (back when I had time to read) and remember getting confused about the names. Then I realized, that was the whole point! Generation after generation was supposed to be the same – the Buendias were doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again as tales of love, lust, war repeat themselves generation after generation. Only Ursula stays, watching tragedy and love repeat themselves like a cycle.

I’m a sucker for this magical realism stuff. Marquez is obviously the master of it, creating a world so descriptive that it almost becomes tangible. Some passages just take your breath away – my personal favorite was the description of the rain that overtook Macondo near the end of the book. It was so magical and so beautifully melancholy that I found myself also submerged in that semi-awake state. It’s hard to find a book that is this powerful, poignant, and rich in description.

The slow decay of their house at the end of the book was also really well written. The overgrowth of plants, the invasion of ants, and the slip into decay and filth was curbed only temporarily by poor Ursula, the only one who was unswayed by by time. I would have quotes, but unfortunately I left the book in Berkeley.

——————————————————-

So a semester has passed me by with only occasional pangs of guilt for not updating, but with encouragement from two unlikely friends, I decided to continue this shindig, only with updates and revelations about my life as well.

Instead of the cheesy “Fall 2009: A reflection”, a poorly written and lazy reflection of my semester on my facebook, I have decided to make this post something that doesn’t make me wince when I reread it. And I have decided in general to make this now blog (part of me has died a little) the best I can write at that exact moment in time. So here goes, on christmas eve of 2009….

This semester… well… it’s been very fun, interesting, exciting, nauesous, bittersweet, sad, terrible, amazing, terrifying, grateful… full of life. I had a lot of fun. But everything comes to an end, and while I ended the semester so in sync with everything that is good in life, I will end this year on a much more melancholy note.  While I have lived life so freely, I have stupidly forgotten the consequences and responsibilities that come with being me. I forgot about some things I shouldn’t have, I let myself go, drunk on my freedom, my power, my epiphanies, ignoring the conscience in the back of my head, nagging me and now full out joining the chorus of voices in my head. My family, my friends, my love life… all hopelessly vying for priority in my head…

I come home to good friends, all of us at different points in our lives, usually with relief to a group of people that I feel have seen me at my worst and will never judge me.  In a way, I don’t think we ever could – because people you meet in college you have to judge as an adult… but the people you come home to, well, you’ve grown up together. You’re family. As we move on in our different worlds, I am grateful for this common thread that links us all together. That we can be amused for a whole afternoon by watching really inane movies, that we remember how to have fun while sober. That we are all still innocent in each other’s eyes, and that we can reminsice to when we actually were innocent.

Coming home also means family – nagging, repeating myself multiple times, chores, errands, whining, no privacy. And for this time of the year, holidays. I am not that big of a fan of holidays… let’s just leave it at that. I’m glad we are always travelling around these times so we don’t have to decorate, or pretend like we care about christmas. I guess when you have a cynic for a father it kind of ruins what is supposed to be a day of celebration for a religion we don’t believe in. However, I am a really good gift giver. Like I am super good. Or at least I like to think so. Tell your friends?

So this semester… a lot has changed: I stopped caring about what other people thought, stopped whining as much, started wearing sweatpants religiously, started expressing myself a lot more. But coming home I see that a lot of things haven’t. My friends are still my friends who watched jennifer’s body and had a good time, only now our conversations are more about feelings and emotions rather than describing the things that have happened to us. The only thing that has significantly changed with my family is that I stopped thinking about my house as “home” . 2329 1/2 is now my home, despite what my parents offer me. I think that is the point you realize you’re now an adult who has successfully flown away from the nest.

Everything’s different, but not really. I am glad I talked to Eva today.. I wish I could have talked to you longer.. your drawings are so beautiful and inspiring… never underestimate yourself!Now I’m going to hop on over to your blog =)

quotes and ideas (paraphrased) from this semester:

• Conscience is when there is no logical way to address a situation – gopal
• Maturity is hiding what you really feel to be socially acceptable – xilen
• Perfection is overrated- me
• Talking solves a buttload of problems – suitcase
• Do what you want – but don’t hurt anyone in the process – me
• Live life in the moment – xilen
• “You are the sum of everyone you ever hung out with” – gopal
• Berkeley steam tunnels are AWESOME and also once in a lifetime opportunities and totally worth getting a B in biology for – Dippy, Jessica, Trevor, Gopal (although he probably did not get a B)
• “Walking through Berkeley is like walking through a bunch of worlds. Running into someone can bring you back to a totally different world, one that you used to live in, and both of you temporarily occupy that world before moving on” – William  – this quote is horribly paraphrased. He put it much more eloquently.
• Life… is a very special occasion! – Lan

—-

Last thing, I swear.

So this spring break I am going on an Alternative Breaks Trip in the Tenderloin area of San Francisco. I will be learning about homelessness in a DeCal class Spring semester and then staying in a shelter there. Alternative Breaks is committed to engaging teams of volunteers to perform community service and hands-on learning in disadvantaged communities for the duration of their Spring Breaks. It’s not so much volunteer work but learning about the complexities of social issues in class and then learning through experience. I’m really psyched to be going on my first experience and service learning trip.

I understand we’re all poor students or just plain poor people in this economy, but anything, like 1 dollar to 20 dollars would be really helpful to this program. I need to raise money not only for my trip, but to keep this program afloat to teach future students and to spread awareness of the socio-economic issues that are prevalent today.

Any donations would be really helpful and thanks for your time!

Follow the link:

https://givetocal.berkeley.edu/egiving/index.cfm?Org=Cal%20Corps%20Public%20
Service%20Center%20Fund&Fund=FU0780000

Please specify Alternative Breaks Program and write your name in the box titled “Special instructions or designations for this gift” at the bottom.

–

okay that’s it I swear.

Have a great X-mas and remember to tell the people you love that you love them!

 

Oh, the webs we weave

spiders.. n stuff

” It all began with a song.

In the beginning, after all, were the words, and they came with a tune. That was how the world was made, how the void was divided, how the lands and the stars and the dreams and the little gods and the animals, how all of them came into the world.”

Neil Gaiman, why do you tell such awesome stories?

I feel like Anansi Boys was written as a side project, whenever Gaiman was bored or when he got tired of being awesome for coming up with Sandman. Whether this is true or not, Anansi Boys is an amazing story. There are several drawbacks – british humor, internal dialogue, and no comix. Use of run-away thoughts for a kind of lack-a-daisy main character   is funny approximately once. Maybe I’m just a stuck up arse. Also, use of the words “bum” and “bugger off” will always induce giggles from this American.

I never reviewed Neverwhere, but this is what I thought of it: This is such an awesome story! It’d be so cool if it was a comic! And this is what I think of Anansi Boys: same thing as Neverwhere! Man!  Luckily Matthew Vaughn read my mind to create some visual aid (a movie) for Stardust. Here’s the thing: Gaiman creates such freakin’ awesome worlds with all the mish mashed myths of gods and demi-gods you read about when you were a kid, but he writes very plainly.. such that the characters in his stories are predictable. Not to say that’s a bad thing: it’s actually what makes his stories more approachable, in the way in which you see the hero getting cornered in, and knowing that he/she will be saved by his/her stupidity/innocence. However, when you’re expecting something deep like Sandman in his books.. it’s just a little disappointing. Hype sucks. Anansi Boys is interesting and captivating, but not really seasoned with salt and pepper like American Gods was. In conclusion, this is a fun story in which you just have to sit back, relax and let Anansi weave you in.

I finished the book in between classes in the ever so classy Morrison library in UC Berkeley. Huzzah, Morrison!

—

 

The importance of reflection.. and being Ernest

don't be fooled

It’s been a year since I’ve been in college, and probably 2 years since I started reviewing books. Unlike a lot of other things in my life, I started this blog and my other book blog purely for myself – such that I wouldn’t depend on other people’s responses to keep me continuously reviewing. Because once you depend on other people for happiness, well, it’s over. My life is based on so many insecurities, and this is probably one of the only things that isn’t affected by that. It’s not really for anyone beside myself such that I can look back on what I thought of each book and how I attempted to analyze it. Lots of things have changed with college, but not too much. Mostly it’s a lot of realization of who you really are. People say that you discover yourself in high school, but I think college is really the place you test yourself and push yourself, and the place you realize a lot of ugly truths inside you. But the beautiful things will always outweigh that. Living by yourself, complaining, laughing, grubbing with friends, studying way too much, not studying enough, missing your dog, reading, soaking it all in.  Life.

On another note, Naked Lunch was ridiculously insane. I know it was written to shock and disturb people, but goddamn.  Burroughs, a notable 60’s writer is the very author postmodernists worship and get their material from. He’s the inspiration and friends of Ginsberg and Kerouac.  Who could resist picking up the book that has shocked and inspired so many?

Needless to say, I couldn’t resist it. I mean, just look at the cover, the screaming bright yellow and cool hip style of writing. In the first few pages, Burroughs writes with a bitter rage, of what it’s like to need junk, to want junk so badly that it completely consumes you.  The science behind detoxing and the drugs he’s been through were also carelessly written in as an after thought.

Then shit hits the fan.. literally. You’re tossed in this alternate world of the Interzone with a bunch of pedophilic men who use heroin and other drugs like nothing and exist solely, it seems, to hold another orgy with little boys. I tried looking for analysis and explanations of the point of orgy after orgy but the internet is not my friend. Basically, junk is compared to all kinds of addictions – and in this case, the need to defile a young boy in any disgusting way you think of. I’m not saying it’s not a great work, because I have by no means closely studied it , but it is definetely not to be read all in one sitting (like me) otherwise you’ll just keep wondering  why this is happening, and why am I reading this?

Summary: Orgies + drugs + disgusting sex.

Postmodern isn’t always cool, I guess.

Bunburying? oh yes

The Importance of Being Earnest is a clever play written by Oscar Wilde (!)  A master of twisting words and homophones, this play is definetely one of his most famous works for the underlying homosexual tones and for the tongue in cheek humor that is rare during his time era. I mean, he had 2 pages dedicated to the greed of eating muffins! That’s freaking awesome in so many ways.

The story is about two friends named Algernon and Jack. They both lie about the existence of two invalid brothers that exist in a place where they do not live so that they can get out of social parties if they do not wish to attend. Jack calls his brother “Ernest” and Algernon calls his brother “Bunburying”. Algernon is in love with Jack’s niece Cecily and Jack is in love with Algernon’s cousin Gwendolyn. Both have assumed the name “Ernest” in which the ladies fall desperately in love with – “Oh I love a name like Ernest. I absolutely love that name,” Ladies are silly. Both panic and try to rechristen themselves to change their name to Ernest. A quick read for a few laughs and good natured isunderstandings.