| broken daydreams |

♪ listen ♪

delicate black lashes graze my fingertips as i turn
to capture the wonder in his star-studded eyes

“what do you feel?”

he breathes and i smile at his
curious little question

“tell me, please,” he sings a whisper
(does he want to feel it too?)

i wish i could tell you:

how it feels to be blinded
become one with the dream
that i cannot bear to touch right in front of me

how i hear the universe breathe
a wistful serenade
for you and i as we lie
beneath its velveteen skies

how i long for a taste of your soul
as the layers to your broken, bleeding heart unfurl
for me to touch
naked. bare. vulnerable

you.

“what do i feel?”

i am enchanted
by a Miracle

“nothing. nothing at all.”


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Beatrice Reviews “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” by Heather Morris

“The Tattooist of Auschwitz” by Heather Morris
☆☆

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One day in July 1942, Lale, prisoner 32407, comforts a trembling young woman waiting in line to have the number 34902 tattooed onto her arm. Her name is Gita, and in that first encounter, Lale vows to somehow survive the camp and marry her.

A vivid, harrowing, and ultimately hopeful re-creation of Lale Sokolov’s experiences as the man who tattooed the arms of thousands of prisoners with what would become one of the most potent symbols of the Holocaust, The Tattooist of Auschwitz is also a testament to the endurance of love and humanity under the darkest possible conditions.


I hate to be that person, who reads a book of hope and love set during one of the darkest times of history, who goes, “meh, I’ll give it a 2.5/3 star rating”. A love story set during the Holocaust – that’s exactly what we need to remind us that love can trump all and prevail, even in the darkest of times. But, in this case, I just could not find myself consumed by the novel. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the true story of the two individuals (Lale and Gita) on who this book is based on. It’s the execution that I have a problem with.

Let me explain. It all boils down to one thing really: bad writing.

It isn’t great. It isn’t horrible, but it isn’t good either. It’s that awkward attempt at trying to do justice to a true story but failing to tick all the boxes, resulting in a novel that’s both here and there.

I love dialogue but when there’s too much of it, it creates a block in the reading experience. The simple rule of ‘show, don’t tell’ can also be applied to leveraging dialogue to keep the story moving forward. With the lack of prose, much of the story is stifled and contained to the interactions and conversations between the characters without exploring the spectrum of their emotions. It gives away too much of the story, in a way that leveraging descriptive prose and imagery [especially of the setting i.e. the Auschwitz concentration camp] would have done better.

Secondly, the pacing. I didn’t feel the urge to frantically turn from one page to the next, anxiously waiting to discover what befalls the characters next. Again, the use of so much dialogue could factor in here but moreso, the actual progression of the novel. There was no ‘rising action’ or tension that drew me in as a reader. That being said, I in no way am commenting on the true events or the nature of the subject matter in itself, merely on the writing style.

It was very choppy – with quick changes in the scenery, abrupt flashbacks that acted as an attempt to provide more depth to the characters but fell flat.

Speaking of which, the character development was disappointing. I finished the book, still feeling a disconnect to Lale and Gita whose story, though beautiful, just didn’t touch me in the right way. And this is coming from someone who gets sad at the idea of a bee stinging me and dying.

Lale is a charming young man that manages to slip in and out of tricky situations, literally translating to do-or-die scenarios. Fate leads him to Gita and the entire story has us believing that they were destined to be together. The storytelling, in itself, however has much left to be desired. The sense of detachment I felt from the book afterward was not what I’d expected to take away from the read.

That being said, the book acts as a testament to a true account of love and survival in one of the most harrowing periods of history. The world needs stories like this to be shared, people whose love has withstood the trials of time and reality to inspire those who feel there is less beauty in this world worth living for.

I would recommend this book to those of you who’d like to experience that on some level. Maybe this book didn’t touch me on a sentimental scale but you might feel differently.

Here’s to hoping you do.

 

| come home, darling |

♪ listen ♪

i dream you are out there – some/where
floating in the ether
as lost as i but
towards me
you’d wander

we’d find each other by the tips of our
starkissed fingers
and the universe would shatter
the Gods would weep

i would touch your broken pieces
cut myself on the rough edges of your
pure, glimmering soul
i would bleed, my love
for you, i would

for if to have you, i must dream
dream i shall
enough to fill this wanting little heart
enough to hope
to see

you will return
you will come home to me
and i will wait

for our forever.

Under the Stars - Bodie Lighthouse


| revelation |

listen

you breathe
and i break
as i watch you weave magic in your careless, unfiltered way
that sinful mouth parts and out tumble your tales
and i wish that i could show you that
you’re more than your mistakes

you still can’t see, can you?
how i’m fighting to sit still
and not trace your imperfections
with the tips of my trembling lips.

you can’t see –
how i’m doing everything in my power
to not fall deeper into your laugh
or into the kindness in the pools of your chocolate eyes

you can’t see.
but: i do.

then one day
you turn with this catch in your breath
that stills my own heart
and you ask me, eyes wide,
“what does love look like?”
(i break a little more)
and shrug
“if only i knew”

oh, but i do, my darling:
it looks like you.

Para alcanzar lo que nunca has tenido, tendrás que hacer lo que nunca has hecho.
this is all i ask for.


The 2019 Redemption Reader’s Journey

I would call this one a challenge but I thought – hey, why not mix it up a little?

Totally not because my previous reading challenges have crashed and burned due to my utter lack of continued persistence to keep it going.

Jokes aside – this will be my year of redemption. I’m absolutely determined to read all these books by December 31st, 2019. For the books that stand out, for either good or bad reasons, I’ll be posting book reviews (hyperlinked where available).

May the Gods of Literature provide me the strength, energy and renewed passion for the written word to make it through this list!


Italicized – read / completed month
(R) – book review available
Bold – currently reading / current month

Month Target Genre Book
February
Romance Pride and Prejudice and Mistletoe (R)
Romance The Next Together
Romance Persuasion
March
Historical Fiction The Book Thief
Historical Fiction The Red Tent
Historical Fiction The Tattooist of Auschwitz
April
Mythology The Palace of Illusions
Mythology Who Fears Death
Mythology Dream Keeper
May
Novella Animal Farm
Novella The Little Prince
Novella Every Heart A Doorway
June
Sci-Fi Ready Player One
Sci-Fi Brave New World
Sci-Fi Here and Now and Then
July
Contemporary A Thousand Splendid Suns
Contemporary Fangirl
Contemporary We Were Liars
August
Drama Waiting for Godot
Drama The Kiss Thief
Drama Big Little Lies
September
Fantasy American Gods
Fantasy A Game of Thrones
Fantasy An Ember in the Ashes
October
Horror In the Miso Soup
Horror Misery
Horror Stillhouse Lake
November
Manga Tokyo Ghoul
Manga Akatsuki no Yona
Manga Otoyomegatari
December
Romance Let it Snow
Classics A Christmas Carol
Crime The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding

| y o u |

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

e.e. cummings

listen

too often we find ourselves treading a path
one that puts us in the same place as everyone else in this
broken, mess of a world

and when we try to break the mould, we find ourselves falling back into this
cycle
that humanity has built to justify the means to an end
that society thinks is right

i don’t, and (maybe) you don’t either
and that’s perfectly okay. to not be like the rest of them
rather than be a face in this plastic mass of orphaned identities
choose to be you

so don’t let yourself be corrupted and shaped into what they want you to become
be what you were born to be

wherever that may take you.

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