Lisbeth Salander

It is not so often that I encounter fictional characters who are so captivating that I feel like they really exist. Last time it happened in 1991 when I came across Milan Kundera's "Unbearable Lightness of Being": Tomas, Tereza and Sabina. I lived with them ever since.

Now I just found Lisbeth Salander from Swedish writer Stieg Larsson's trilogy. I watched the movie adaptation of the novel "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" on DVD and was so intrigued by the movie: its plots and social commentaries, but especially the heroine Lisbeth Salander, a genius computer hacker with a troubled past. She is a social misfit, so damaged but will never be crushed. I went to the movie theater to watch the sequel "The Girl Who Played with Fire" the next day and bought the third book "The Girl who Kicked the Hornets' Nest" afterwards.

Larsson is a writer of incedible talent with a conscience for social justice. He left us too soon at age fifty in 2004. These are the books that people all over the world are now reading. Their popularity is a phenomena in Europe. These series of books are mystery drama, somewhat reminds me of "The Silence of Lamb", but I find Lisbeth Salander so much more complexed and fascinating. Swedish actress Noomi Rapace has transformed herself into the character. Her performance is a chilling perfection.

I am yet to find out more about Lisbeth and what will happen to her from the novel. I think I will live with her for a while, studying about her, as if I really know her.

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

"Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" has always been one of the children's books which I can really relate to. This Judith Viorst's 1972 classic still speaks to children and adults today.

Alexander has one of those dreadful days. He woke up and his hair was a mess. Everything went wrong. School was awkful: His mom forget to pack his dessert; His teacher did not like his drawing of an invisible castle; His best friend called him a third best friend. At home, he had to eat lima beans for supper; and when he went to bed, his cat decided to sleep with his brother instead...

He pondered maybe he should move to Australia...

***

Dear Alexander,

Today I have one of your kind of day.

I planned to enjoy my Monday without school by web surfing and listening to music online. I also tried to clean up my living space as well as the clutters on my computer.

I accidentally deleted some important files and it ceased to function properly. You know how I could not live without my machine. I labored six hours to try to fix it in vain.

Everything in the house went wrong as well. In the evening, I tried to cook myself some soup for dinner. I forgot I left it boiling because my mind was fixated on the computer. The house was almost set on fire. The pot was burnt and there was not a drop of soup to eat.

So at the end of the day, I was alone, exhausted and hungry. The computer was down, the house was a mess. Nothing went as planned: no music, no art, no book, no dinner...

Dear Alexander, indeed we should move to Australia...

Emma and the present moment

After three months of my book club , I finally finished Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary.

I put in on the nightstand after I finished reading the last chapter. It made me depressed.

It is not my favorite book, but it is certainly one of the greatest literature I have ever studied.

Many experts have explored the book's near-perfect structure and the author's superb artistry in poetic expression and realistic observation, and I won't attempt to add more.

It has been a very sad journey for me these days to dwell into her world. Emma is someone who does not live in the present moment. Boredom and disengagement of the now is a constant malady in her mind. She only lives in the past or in the fantasy of the future. She only lives in the romantic world of her dreams.

"At the end of some indefinite distance there was always a confused spot, into which her dream died" (II-ix)

Emma loves the image and glamour of music instead of music. At first she plays the piano, but she soon "gave up music, What was the good of playing? Who could hear me? ..it was not worthwhile boring herself with practicing."

For her, religion is a veil for existence. She "loved the church for the sake of the flowers, and music for the words of the songs, and literaure for its passional stimulus, rebelled against the mysteries of faith as it grew irritated by discipline." (I-vi)

It is a pity to see how she led herself into destruction. How she hurt those who were closest to her and loved her.

"She found in adultery all the banality of marraige... She was not happy. She never had been. Whence came this insufficiency in life-this instantaneous turning to decay of everything on which she leant?" (III-v)

She is a narcissus. If loving others is a capacity and a determination, she is incapable, and have no purpose.

I have been reflecting on human conditions. Flaubert's fatalist perspective and pessimism is depressing to ponder. But, looking at the dim light from my lamp, I realize how precious is redemption and salvation.