Friday Five Archives: Books!

I had planned on doing a Friday Five, but they haven't yet updated the ones for this week, so you now get the inside story on my favourite books. Haha, I made a pun. A weak one, to be sure, but one pun is better than no pun.

I was tagged by Sumana a really long time ago. It has to do with books, and is similar to today's Friday Five, but lazy bugger that I am, I will do it some other time.

The Friday Five!

1. Who is your favourite author?
Oo, toughie. If they mean the author whose books entertains me the most, that would be the Queen of Crime. Sure, they are fun, and all that, but her writing seems rather unoriginal to me, and her characters feel one dimensional. On the other hand, Gerald Durrell's books are sheer poetry. Even his animals are full of character in a way Miss Marple can never be. But I have been bored by some of his books, so I refuse to label him my favourite author. If it has to be an author who has never bored me, Richmal Crompton gets the grand prize. William Brown is one guy who can always make me laugh out really loud. More like cackle wildly, to be honest. So Richmal Crompton is my favourite author. And Richard Gordon, and Roald Dahl. They are my 3 R's.


2. What is your favourite book/series?
The Harry Potter series. Not. Yes, I love the books, but, I did not like the ending. You hear that, J K Rowling? The Bartimaeus trilogy depressed me, and the Wheel of Time got really boring after a while. Ah, I have got it- Asterix! Goscinny and Uderzo are geniuses. Remember the legionary named Gluteus Maximus? It began to make more sense after I became a medico.


3. Who is a book hero you most wish to be like?
Anne Shirley. She has brilliant gray eyes, long thick hair, an imagination, queenishness and she got Gilbert. Everybody likes her, and she knows Joseph.
You don't blame me, do you?


4. Who is a book character that you envy?
This one is really easy- any romance novel heroine. They are all gorgeous and intelligent, everything goes perfectly for them, and they get to live happily ever after.
"Fiercely dedicated medical student Anna Whitfield couldn't have been less suited to become Daniel MacGregor's submissive, heir-producing wife even if she'd tried. So why was the arrogant self-made millionaire moving heaven and earth to prove she was his perfect mate?"
Um, Mr. Millionaire? I am single. Just saying...


5. Which book do you wished you lived in?
Any book written by Alexander McCall Smith. There is something delightful about his characters and the idealised world they inhabit. Even the most terrible occurrences are trivialised, and the people handle it well.

So, now you have it. I hope you have a great 2009, in which you will all tell me about your favourite ones. I promise to blog more next year.


UPDATE: Turns out this week's Friday Five was about books, and is quite similar to the one I have done here. And then I got all tempted, and here are my answers.

1. Do you enjoy reading?
No, I do not. If I have ever led you to think that I do, I lied.
Man, really dumb question.

2. What is the first book you remember reading?
The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I was about seven at the time, and my Dad was in the hospital having his first heart attack. My aunt had very kindly taken me away from the hospital during the day, and I thanked her by raiding her library. Other books I 'borrowed' during the same time include The Five Have Plenty of Fun, and a Nancy Drew, The Whispering Statue. This is one of my favourite childhood memories. Even the hospital bit, we came through that pretty OK.

3.Who is your favourite author?
You are really lucky, you know. I am not going to answer that again. Please do not allow your sigh of relief to blow stuff away.

4. What is your favourite book?
See previous answer.

5. What is the last book you read and the first you'll read next?
The last one was Sue Townsend's Number 10, which wasn't as funny as the cover claimed to be. The next one is Davidson's Principles and Practice of Medicine. I have exams in February!

This was more like Friday Ten, or more accurately, Friday Five and Saturday Three.

Yes, I am leaving now. For real.

P.S. I got bored with the template.

Practice, In theory

We were really surprised to hear that we would be having a theory class on Forensic Medicine that day, since the university had held the theory exam a week ago. The practical exams were to start the following week, and all the departments had announced their intention of giving us lab revision classes. All of us had totally forgotten what congested spleens looked like under a microscope, and it was real nice of them to do that, especially when the trouble we've made over our year and a half is considered.

It came as real shock that the Forensic guys were taking a theory class, and that too from 9.30 AM to 3.30 PM. That's 7 hours, for the mathematically challenged geniuses like me. Almost everyone turned up for the class with unquenchable enthusiasm, an astonishing event, since the turnout is only about 78% for the classes where attendance is compulsory. The class turned out to be about the theoretical aspects of the practical exam, and was a total washout. Nothing more will be said about the class, and the title loses its relevance.

Unaccustomed to having both eyes open as early as 9.30 in the AM, I had raced to class with the minimum of fuss, without wasting time over frivolities such as breakfast. I had brushed my teeth and washed my face, but only out of consideration for R's feelings, who is submitted to the rare privilege of being my friend. After the lecturers exited the torturing chamber at 11.30 amidst thundering applause (the 3.30 ending time turned out to be a myth), I dragged R to the canteen and polished off some atrocious food giving it the respect all edible materials command. After racking our brains for a while, we discovered there was nothing further to do at college, and tearfully decided to return home.

We were joined on our journey to the bus stop by G, and the three crazy females had fun giving a cute guy the directions to the office. I believe he ended up at the pharmacy college. Suddenly, A rang up R and announced that all the inmates of the Ladies' Hostel were going to catch the new Harry Potter movie, were we interested in joining them. Even after years of friendship, I haven't been able to convince R that the Harry Potter books are fun to read, and she nixed the idea on the spot. So did I, but for different reasons (a book is a book is a book is not a movie). G had already seen it, and considered 2 hours from her life as hopelessly wasted.

The three of us walked on,waiting for the next cute guy to pop up, when G suggested we see the new comedy. R and I liked the idea, and we rang up A to discuss the new development, but A remained true to Umbridge. That's when we ran into our good friend K, and begged him on our knees to accompany us, promising him a place in heaven as St. Peter's right hand man, since 3 'little' girls isn't a strong enough number for my folks. But K said he was going to see Harry Potter no matter what, but a couple of his friends were getting the tickets to the comedy that very second and to call one of them to book us tickets if we wanted to go. Torn by K's betrayal, we wearily trudged to the bus stop. Everyone we met on the way had the same thing to say, "Ha-rry. Ha-rry. Ha-rry." Unable to take more of this harrying, the three heartbroken girls decided to drown their sorrows in Sprite, and unhappily took a detour to the bakery.

After a couple of swigs from the Sprite bottle, washed down by a sandwich, our spirits rose high enough to catch a bus to the Planetarium. But Fate had a different idea...

While in the bus, G's boyfriend, N, rang her up and said he'd go with us, even though he'd seen the movie twice. Moved by his sacrifice, we arranged for K's friends to book us tickets. Having an hour and a half left for the movie to begin, we thought we'd sample the delights the planetarium had to offer, only to discover that the planet show began at 2.30, the same time as our movie.

That's when I realized we had no idea where the movie theatre was. N informed us over the phone that it was only a 5 minute walk from Big Bazaar. That was all we needed to hear. The next thing I knew, we were taking the escalator to the clothes section at Big Bazaar. All hail department stores. It's a deep unsolvable mystery, how we lost track of time. The highlight of the mad rush to the theatre at 2.28 PM was running into the seedy lodge next to the movie house.

We found N waiting outside with our tickets, and entered the hall just as as the movie began. The first sight that greeted our eyes as we shuffled inside was a smiling K waving to us. A closer look revealed the reason for his smile, almost all the seats in the balcony were occupied by our classmates from the Ladies' Hostel. Then the lights went off, we switched off our brains for a couple of hours and watched Communism being massacred on the screen.

I've been busy. Studying.

The title isn't true, you know. It's true that my exams have been going on for the last 3 months, the last I checked. Yeah, yeah, I know. But I haven't been busy studying. I've been busy lazing around every couple of days, then getting all edgy and panicky the day before the exam, ringing up R for 'inspiration' only to find out she's in the exact same state, and hanging up after a zillion "What's wrong with us?", "Why are we like this?" and "Maybe it's the climate.", noticing the situation is worse since I just spent an hour on the phone, bringing on another panic attack, prompting me to attempt an all-nighter, and then falling asleep at 1230 hours to wake up at 1000 hours the next (or technically, the same) morning with the revelation that there are 20 chapters left, and less than 4 hours in which to complete that. That's when I get busy.

Where does all this terrifying efficiency go when I know the exam is still a couple of days off? I read 200 pages in less than 2 hours the night before the exam, but I get through only about half a page (alright, half a paragraph) a day otherwise. I can watch TV for hours, browse for even longer periods, and these days I manage about 12 hours' sleep. Oh, my God. What is wrong with me?

Penicillin, here I come.