Book Review: Happily Ever After

“Everyone’s allowed to be in love with the wrong person at some point. In fact, it’s a mistake not to be.”
― Harriet EvansHappily Ever After

Much like hot chocolate on a rainy Sunday afternoon — which is what the coverpage conjures as an afterthought — was exactly how the book felt in my hands. This is my first Harriet Evans novel, snatched up on a whim, and as I read it from cover to cover it gave me a couple of laughs and a few sighs, as I am  taken on a ten-year roller coaster ride that constituted Eleanor Bee’s dramatic life. Very much delighted by the wit displayed by Evans’ mouthpiece (Eleanor Bee) in times of turmoil and change, though bits of the novel did infuriate me where sexual morals were concerned, but hey this is a very intimate, very discerning piece of chick-lit that gave very real insights to the modern world.

Eleanor Bee definitely isn’t the uptight middle-class Londoner where personal problems were concerned, and that made me love her more. Who wouldn’t love a semi-psychotic, seasonal alcoholic, Big Apple convert?

Love how secrets of the lucrative and mysterious publishing world were exposed in bite-sized juicy bits, which left me wanting to know more about the actual publishing society.
Thank you, Harriet Evans, for this romp of a read!

hea

Publisher: Gallery Books
Release: June 5th, 2012
Genre: Chick-Lit, Fiction, Love, Romance, Change
My Rating: 7.5 / 10
Recommended for: Chick-lit lovers, summer reads, weekend reads, beach reads

If Happily Ever After was ever to be made a movie, I would cast:

ELLE BEE: Kristin Cavalleri
Kristin-Cavalleri-026a

RORY (the boss): Mark Wahlberg
mark-wahlberg-29

TOM: Mark Salling
a-eye-candy-mark-salling-3

plugged into my iPod under my umbrella in the rain

Nobody knows we were meant to arrive in somebody else’s life
for reasons so obscure we speculate,
and plunge into the same mistakes,
putting a name, a cause, a title, a status allowing them to stay.
I’m listening
to your favourite overrated songs;
button sunken from the days you’d hit replay.

Plugged into my iPod under my umbrella in the rain,
I’m mistaken for a trespasser –
“ma’am I’m sorry to say
we’re closed for the day”.
Apologies to the most important people
are hardest to articulate.

We overlook –
Miscommunication, misunderstanding,
misinterpretation, mistakes
mis-en-scene
mishaps.
Drafted apologies.
I have my music,
I am okay.

Micro-managed music libraries, neatly filed, documented, genred,
starred biases;
playlists with names we (only) appreciate.

Useless music loops through my headphones,
caught in spirals
unable to escape,
muffled by the downpour
outside my

Splintered spokes of useless shelter
then carelessly discarded by the sidewalk
as I watched you
Ice-cold raindrops.
Your halo bruised from standing too long in the rain.

Can’t I simply like your smile,
the way you toss your head as you turn to walk away.

XOXO
silhouettekiss

umbrella

P.S. It is so cold in Tokyo my lips are blue
Why on earth didn’t I bring an extra coat…

the fields are frozen gold

reindeer

As though ten winters have passed since we arrived,
thin ice beneath our heels, snowflakes in our breath.
Lucent white in ten miles’ sight
no sign of impending summer.
Yet somebody dreamt of this perfect world.

Such a waste of lush green pastures
every leaf chilled to the very spine –
botanical shards of piercing ice.

White winter world.
Wherefore art thou, Colour?
Blood runs through these icicles,
every touch ten Fahrenheits too cold.

Truth be told, it’s colder as your heart gets old,
even the summer fields are frozen gold.

P.S FTS. Wrote this so quick.
So many fricking things in my head.
For the first time I can’t count
the number of times I swore out loud.
Adieu.

take me away

takeme

Let me know in low whispers
if it’s alright for me to follow
you, utterly devoid of faith,
just so you may lead me
away
El retrato de Dorian Gray.
A place it’s fine to holler
all which is fighting to be said.
Ad infinitum;
no limits to retreat
no reasons not to stay.

P.S Why does this all rhyme with Christian Grey?
Too easy to lump it all to one ending vowel.
Stop.

had my heart aglow

repetal

Memories aren’t created to be tossed aside or fed to the wind.
Most unfortunately whoever created Man didn’t engineer our brains to work as per a shredder does –
feed it in, tear it apart,
then proceed to expel the remnants.

Letting go takes tremendous practice –
a dab of ignorance, a handful of shrugs,
closed eyes, uncountable sighs
and a whole lot of pretense.
Until it doesn’t hurt to think of it anymore.

Till then, perhaps I’ll simply look away.

xoxo
silhouettekiss
 

HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR, lovelies.

Continue reading “had my heart aglow”

Russian Roulette

Today I’m acquainted with a peculiar sensation – a sense of life revolving recurrently around a game of Russian roulette and I’m holding the gun to my own head. Why else then would judgments make or break a person with such permanence? People aren’t always allowed to make hopeful choices in life; every shot you partake of comprises of loaded chambers, a series of hits and misses, chance and luck. My finger on the trigger, I’m left deftly undecided.

Today I’m looking upon the future like I’m staring down the barrel of a loaded gun – how long more before the bullet hits me? Murakami’s gaping black hole were thou always lying in wait or have I always carried that infinitesimally bottomless abyss within? One day perchance it shall swallow me whole and hungry. When that comes I shall pray to my atheistic goddess that my fall into the chasm would be quick and painless. All I know is, no one would really be there to catch anyone. Rather, we selfish beings have learnt to save our own asses. Afterall, we all perish alone.

It is a cold night and I am smelling like the sea from the walk I just took along the river. Unless I make a choice now, the big ocean would be out of reach and I would end up a washed up sea-shell. Close up now and keep swimming against the current, only then will you really get somewhere.

Perhaps it’s really time to go.

Goodnight.
xoxo