The latest book I read was The Ruined Map by Kōbō Abe. I gave it two whole weeks. Halfway through, I was still lost in the hunt, and not the fun kind of lost. The kind where you keep turning pages hoping for a breadcrumb, but all you get is dust and déjà vu. I realized that I just don’t have the patience for unsolved mysteries right now. I don’t like being stuck in an endless loop of uncertainty, digging for answers that may not even exist. Sure, I love stories with emotional and intellectual complexities, but I need some kind of purpose or clarity towards the end, rather than endless confusion.
It reminded me of how I felt reading Piranesi. People rave about the twist at the end. Me? It didn’t work. I hated it. Then it hit me. Maybe I hated it because it felt too familiar. The spiral. The confusion. That stagnant feeling. The loop of uncertainty. I’ve been living in that narrative for the past few years.
So no, if reading is supposed to bring me joy or escape, I’m not going to spend my quiet moments wandering another fictional maze that mirrors my own.
I rarely do this, but I decided to DNF this book.
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The Literary Fiction:
I’ve been slow-reading There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak, going on two months now. And honestly, I love it that way. It’s the kind of storytelling that invites you to take your time, to pick it up whenever, and be gently carried by the lives of these three characters as they move across time and continents.
Honestly, I could read their stories the way I once watched the first ten seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; dedicated, stretched across years, invested in every ache and arc. I’m learning bits of history and culture without even realizing it. No one weaves the intimate and the epic quite like Elif Shafak. She makes you feel like you’re sipping ancient rain through modern skin. Let me enjoy this for awhile.
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The Japanese Classic Literature:
I tried Ryunosuke Akutagawa's short stories - surprisingly nice and easy to read. Sometimes odd, sometimes bland, but always carrying something underneath. Let me mention the top three that are absolutely worth your time:
- In a Bamboo Grove - A dead samurai. Seven testimonies. No resolution.
This one’s less about who did it and more about how truth bends under ego, guilt, and self-preservation. It’s basically the original unreliable narrator hellscape. Short, unsettling, and kind of genius. Everyone has their own truth (or lie), and the brilliance is in the contrast, not in what they say, but why and how. You’re left to decide what's real. Or just embrace the confusion. - Dragon: The Old Potter’s Tale - A cheeky monk plays a prank, announces a dragon will rise from a pond on a certain day. People show up. A crowd forms. Tension builds. It’s not really about the dragon. It’s about belief. About how mass conviction can turn fiction into shared reality. Feels like a silly bedtime story, but hits you later like a quiet philosophy class.
- Kappa - Now this one’s a trip. A man falls into a world of mythical river creatures, the Kappa, and instead of awe, we get a dark, satirical mirror of our own messed-up society. Think Gulliver’s Travels but with more existential dread and passive-aggressive frogs. It tackles mental illness, selective breeding, capitalism, and creative despair, all in under 60 pages. Wildly strange, uncomfortably real. A weird little masterpiece.
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Been reading a lot since last month, I stopped reading after I started working last year because I didn't have the energy (and time). But lately I really make an effort to read, it is hard for me to consume any media since I started working (not even Youtube). I am not sure why.
I love that I started enjoying reading again.
