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!

American Gods by Neil Gaiman (2001)

My Rating: 5/5

Yours truly hepped up on crucial details from the book for the second time partly because I don't remember except for one thing, a vivid sexual scene of genie and Arab, and, partly because Starz channel has its own version airs every Sunday (American time). For me, it's wonderful to watch virtual thunder tremendously battered up the sky; winter coming up next let the myths be finally unleashed, while the ground has been preparing for unforgettable battle of all time, not just relying on the book. The TV series was superb and bit different from original which is good, so fans murmured theories how it should be.

It's an account of war between gods of old and new. Gods of Internet, Media, plastic, TV, radio, credit cards, technology in general are advantage indeed if we were to talk of the present, yet an old phrase reassured one's precarious faith that the older god has become the harder it subdued from its lair. So this happens in blessed land of America where state capitalism proliferates induced new gods to linger much and, for the record, during ancient times immigrants from all over the world conjured old deities out of fear and bring them to AMERICA.

Inexorable Mr. Wednesday, All-Father/Odin/Fucked Up/Grifter/Green-minded/Wrinkled man, has initiated the recruitment process and offered job toward big, ex-con guy named Shadow Moon. All together they travelled across America. Not Bethlehem, not Mecca, but America to befriend old gods rested upon each obsolete hole, obsequiously convinced them to fight on their side or, at least, win the f---king game they're about to play. Clue: it's a rigged game.

Gaiman magnified tales of long forgotten gods summoned by its tribes whom suffered or sold for slavery; fully entertained from various folklores which I've never been heard before, few interludes were added to catch its thrills. It was jam-packed with messed up, desperate, glorifying gods known from different races: Indian, Egyptian, German, African--- all were perfectly suited for its role wherein society carrying human body similar as Jesus Himself became a man spread news about truth of three persons of Trinity.

By the way, lemme escort you on quotation which I absolutely liked since I mentioned Jesus above. For clarity, it's just a parcel quote that could amuse you or whatever...

"There was only one guy in the whole Bible Jesus ever personally promised a place with him in Paradise. Not Peter, not Paul, not any of those guys. He was a convicted thief, being executed. So don't knock guys on death row."

See, what I meant. It's pure gold. It might explode Duterte's head if somebody from Human Rights were about to whipped these lines straight through him.

The book is judiciously good, mysterious and mythical that awakens own consciousness from lethargic abyss of real world. I loved it. I trust Shadow's own convictions for doing things right, awed at his deft manipulation of coins on his hands and admired his genuine love to his ex-wife, Laura. His acquaintance with old gods made me easy to conceive those cultural beliefs from the past that makes strong bonds among people who were riding altogether in ignominious fate and put into madness from oppression. Cacophonic storms, famine, disease gradually eradicate humanity and it is inexplicable divinity brings us hopes and peace of mind. That's how religion exist. It simply reminds me of Ishmael's companion in his levithian quest, Queequeg, bringing me back to the memory of heathen man creates by eloquent orator Herman Melville, one of my favorites (OMG, I cried). Unique, powerful and genius that only Neil Gaiman can provide.

The characters were special, not retarted or whatever, but rather has great impact to one's life leaves remarkable scars in soul. And I HIGHLY recommend it with strong mead, esp who likes to plunge through fiction for huge distraction on whatever chaos is brought by real world.

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1866)

My Rating: 5/5

I've been fully recovered from disease inflicted on reading Yossarian's both sanity and insanity, until Raskolnikov had mysteriously tapped on my door, began pouring out his horrid revelation. Another thing to worry about from someone else's business. Again, his delirium experienced after the execution of that outrageous crime was contagious in which he persistently designated to his dear readers that it was legit idea and calling him infidel was huge slander. I've been appalled from what I have read all throughout, but somehow manage to grasp lessons from the main POV. He created balance and manipulated theory of his own that led one's mind become more justice maniac that cares so much about humanity. World is kind of messy and distorted and it badly needs healing which was quite obvious on his doings at the threshold of this book.

Raskolnikov was brilliant, self-centered, law student, living alone under dismal attic until deprivation succumbs his senses, he stopped schooling and gradually suffered from migraine from constantly contemplating on how to get rid of bad particles roaming around the city of Petersburg. He had manifesto which nobody had ever tried to do so. So bad I have neither transparent background in politics or military history. I couldn't provide extra credits on it. He had been mumbling Napoleon's name and was inspired by him. He gets pestered whenever somebody disputed against his own idea, and managed to project himself that his conscience was as pure as distilled water. He crept along the series of doom he had thought and convinced to kill belligerent beings to maintain peace and order. But an inspector challenged to unleashed his expertise in psychological process on capturing slippery culprit for whom the  latter helplessly accept this bait. He was thrown to Siberia to face punishment and apparently observed that people inside cell were becoming suffocated, emancipated,  and mistreated by the peircing criticisms outside the wall; nonetheless, they appreciated life more than people who has freedom outside.

Dearest Raskolnikov, it was foolish move, I daresay. If you want to prove theory of your own you should have slyly flown to America with your mistress and leave those mongrels behind completely muddled on your own craftsmanship and buy more time on how were you able to make a change. Unfortunately, his fate ended in the dungeon with bunch of blunders like him. "Repent," he reflected. Crushed, bitten and punished.

Strangely so, it has occurred nowadays although this book published more than a hundred years ago. Reincarnation, perhaps. An oblivious cycle for those likened minds. I can suggest an example of an "extraordinary man" he's been implying to on his written article and it would be our 16th president of the Philippines. He has the power to perform metamorphosis by seizing one's life, ignoring obloquious MSM and Human Right ranting to and fro, which is shockingly similar to Raskolnikov approach, he gets furious whenever they crossed their line. The number of people get killed on his war have reached more than thousands, that is for illicitly connected to drugs alone, and he won't stop no matter what anti admin barking at.

My beloved president is looking at his own lenses, administered our country at his own desire (sure, people's power smoldering for whatever is good) same principles applied by the protagonists/antagonist character from Fyodor's. They're both acting like God. 'Louse' creatures remain like that and should be annihilated from growing hostile, but I like Razumihin's principles more than these two cannibal. Looking to another dimension on which killing evils without due process is considered solution by few and I'm one of them. Baffling on it?

I enjoyed reading it, so 5/5.

A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Sherlock Holmes #1, 1887)

My Rating: 5/5

I was completely stupefied the moment I'd finished the first part of the story. My heart pummeled, my nerves tingled, my eyes nearly fell off to the ground, neither blink a second nor attempted to dab it with my hand, and my head downright whirled. The consciousness went back after I'd burnt my rice and grandma's fury was anywhere (face palm). Of course I blamed Sherlock for the worse experiences I had that day. (woa! what a massive effects it had on me.)

The story was divided into two parts. First, it invited us to know the cleverness of the amateur protagonist and how he'd simply solved the queer murder case in three days, and had afforded to watch Neruda's concert while the two Scotland Yard blunders misled themselves to catch the real suspect, scratching their scalps so badly for indignity they received from the dilettante, but somehow triumphantly take the credit at the end. Doctor John Watson, his fellow-lodger at 221 B Baker Street, has strongly disapproved with Holmes' perspective letting the two get a public testimonial without him getting noticed; took his pen and write a pamphlet for his friend entitled A Study in Scarlet. Second course would be the murderer's story on how he'd executed his sweet revenge against the victims and why he'd plotted the felony.

Sherlock Holmes' capacity, for me, is very remarkable. He is quick to comprehend, sagacious, very accurate in details and reason out things logically. He's a pompous guy that would definitely blow you away for his awesomeness. I liked him very much. So bad he didn't get the merit after what he had done over the case.

It's a perfect five, tho. Highly recommend!