Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (1996)

My Rating: 5/5

Alright. It simply reminds me back or sort of déjà vu feeling from Stranger Things show I had recently watched, where a despicable Demigorgon dwelt in murky, wet and unpleasant Upside Down setting. A kind of story that could somehow relate to Neverwhere, because of its quick flip from place to another place, from lightness to blackness. But the only thing differ is that there's a large community has took fancy in living underneath London. That sounds gross, I know. London Below is accommodated by a thousands of ragged, bizarre beings ---- burglars, vagabonds, nomads, hapless ---- whose entire stinky image cannot be seen by ordinary eyes living in London Above. They're those low profile conventionally ignored by fastidious elites, extending one hand on the street begging for anything that could satisfy their needs. Gaiman is definitely a genuis hero in constructing a slots for them to be recognised as one group striving on same path, nevertheless clamored to live peacefully beneath the earth.

Richard Oliver Mayhew has pure heart and soul lived a normal life in London Above, managed a good job, and had beautiful fiancee until it all vanished in an instant after helping a young girl bleeding on the road whose name was Door. You will offer a hand too if you were in Richard's position, no doubt, but something... something uncontrollable volition that urges Richard to do such thing. What if he's the one? (a thought that might be playing, unexpectedly.) Afterwards Richard's life turned downright bemused, he was literally become invisible, ignored by people he used to work with. No one could see him except those who reside downside, and, so he was determined of finding Door, who's right to be blamed all his misfortune, hoping his life back to normal again.

Richard fumbled all the way to unfathomable chamber of madness uncertain what fate awaits him under. Is death could be sole answer from all his misery inflicted or is there any miracle that could save him as payback from all good things he's shown that angels above knew it all? The chap Richard reminds me completely from the guy who gave this book to me as a Christmas gift way back a year and a half ago. Weirdest --- I mean also the best--- thing though is that his name too appeared to be almost just like Neil himself, Nielbert. The latter and protagonist are both good-natured, trustworthy and a good friends. Richard few peculiarities are afraid of heights and claustrophobic. Two qualities to reconsider to withhold him from dangerous undertaking, but he did remarkable and unforgettable history anyway.

The story was lavishly twisted, mysterious and surprisingly hilarious to the bone. I laughed from clumsiness of our hero and amazed at the same time from what he turned out into. Door was also playing an important role that somehow taught readers to be brave enough to stand firm. She lost her family and I know exactly how it feels to be an orphan, but she endured the pain and become dauntless Lady of Temple And The Arch. Hunter too makes you believe that nothing is impossible. The plotline was completely ravishing, bright ideas oozed its way; ceaseless fights thud one's heart while reading it, the villains too were ridiculously eloquent. I freaking loved it. I missed everything from Above down Below. It somehow drag me to other grotesque dimension and cast about. I begged for more, because the ending will make the one left wonder. What happened to Anaesthesia? Is she really really dead? What about something magical on her beads? Tell me moreee.

She glanced at the little fires across the room. Then she looked back at Richard. She smiled again. "Do you like cat?" she said."Yes," said Richard. "I quite like cats."Anaesthesia looked relieved. "Thigh?" she asked."Or breast?"

One important thing I've learned from it was the hunger for something worthwhile, not repetitive, not convetional you ought to be doing every day. Somewhat an explorations that could help widen the horizon. Maybe this is reason why I loved reading a lot. I may be scarced from any resources needed, but books is one portal away from dome of nothingness. Books add color to a dull life. And I'm glad I've encountered Gaiman's rare stories on my reading challenge. Searching for more, yay!

ASoIaF Book #1 by George R.R. Martin (1996)

My Rating: 5/5

Utterly fantastic book so far. I couldn't tell how long I gawped in every line just to make sure I fumbled the truth that could possibly make out the whole conspiracy that has been long interlaced by the enemies; furthermore, in our real life there's always an inevitable trap that needs to be riddled out entirely before it was too late to take upon the right moves. Always remember how to play chess correctly. Once you ushered pawns through your desired position, try to figure out earlier the consequences of your moves. Let your mind be on its proper condition.

But seemed like everything was planned to kill good people and it was already too late to take another course away from horrible nightmare.

None of us is ever ready.

For knighthood?

For death.

Appalling indeed. The massive plot would bring you to carnage scenes, maim you so bad and where people roared heavily, fighting until death it's either for the reason to protect the realm or for their personal interest to hold on much longer to its promising power. The power to hold the kingdom. It makes me become wary as person, not to mention that a lot of culprits rambling round city nowadays or worse a murderer trying to stab prey unnoticed; and being cautious in every minute whom to be entrusted or rewarded such faith. Should have activated one's impulse, give it a second thought or perhaps relay a message to white raven and not to muted serpent whose ruthless blood meandered throughout each limb (sounds like old people from old scene). Didn't I tell you it has classic theme which old people wear garments from past century? No one used and discovered digital things and people predicts his bastard son/daughter by heedless observations on physical identities.

My favorite character is Tyrion Lannister. Fuck that waddling, little, witty Imp. I want to lick his crooked smile and consume his words against him, but he's not too wimpish that easily gives in. He scourged his own enimies out of his own plot or rather maneuvered his á la mode plan and prefered to call it: another toss of dice.

And now I couldn't wait to see more of Tyrion's banter and wisdom. And also I need to check out the bastard, Jon Snow, on his black adventure. His destiny compelled me even harder. Apparently, I want to talk about it the whole summer.

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (1937)

My Rating: 5/5

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” — Thorin’s Last Words

But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. 1Timothy 6:9

You know, JRR Tolkien was a Roman Catholic and I could write anything out here from bible verses I fancy which has slightest possible connection to the story. I would have fallen into such miserable abyss if I haven’t been ventured on some queer quest with dwarves and Tookish slash chosen burglar named,  Bilbo Baggins from  Bag End, Underhill, Hobbiton. I was engrossed by this tale. I had finally met and visited this hobbit-lore in these splendid and magical words after I had watched it on screen some time in the past. Gazing at wooden panel-walled tunnel, as if I was completely bewitched by its beauty and snugness and its cozy breeze filling me entirely from head to toe. Those words from JRR Tolkien would make you shrouded with mystical vibration and awe. I was immobilized, indeed, therefore I would proclaim that this hobbit-hole from West of The Hill is the perfect place to inhabit for the introvert person like me. Tranquil, away from distraction, mirth everywhere, devour savory food, quench my throat with tea, and smoke rings with the wizard (which is not my usual type, but who gets qualms smoking with a wizard?). I love fantasy and I love mysterious adventures and I love drawing out picture from my shabby attic called mind those eerie, filthy and menacing creatures (orcs, goblins, wargs, trolls, spiders, and Smaug) chasing after me under the mystifying and aghast effects composed by nature orchestra. And a thrilling sound from your throat was clamored “Threatening adversity is coming. Buckle up!” Follow these lines:

“All was well, until one day they met a thunderstorm — more than a thunderstorm, a thunder-battle. You know how terrific a really big thunderstorm can be down in the land and in a river-valley; especially at times when two great thunderstorms meet and clash. More terrible still are thunder and lightning in the mountains at night, when storms come up from East and West and make war.”

And Gollum be like . . .  (well, careful with his rabid breath for he had been under Misty Mountain for countless years)

“Is it nice preciousss? Is it juicy? Is it scrumptiously crunchable?"

Yes, it’s terribly creepy yet it’s terrifically crunchable.

 Did I mention the burglar himself? Bilbo was a respectable hobbit folk from The Hill until he was not anymore. Auction happened into his house after a year of his disappearance. He was requested to be as part of adventure all the way to Lonely Mountain where dragon’s lair awaits. Not a simple adventure, of course. Grotesque world heaped up with remarkable inventions. JRR’s imagination was wide and fantastic. I can tell no more. Read Bilbo’s documentation he had written “There and Back Again, a Hobbit’s Holiday” and you will absolutely LOVE it.

MAY YOUR SHADOW NEVER GROW LESS. Highly recommend!