From Young Adult to Postcolonial? | My Reading Journey

"There is no reason why the same man should like the same books at eighteen and at forty-eight."

- Ezra Pound

In celebration of the last day of June (seriously, how quick did that go!), I've taken inspiration from the blog's quote of the month to think about how my reading tastes have changed over the years.

Primary school: 5-11 years old

Sadly, I can't remember what the first book I ever read or read independently was called. That would have been precious right? What I can remember is being read the Spot the Dog series every day before home-time by my favourite teacher, Tony. I was five then. I quickly began a 'healthy' appetite of reading as my literacy skills developed. I visited the local library every fortnight with my older sister and brother and together we would drag heavy bags of books back home.

As I read more, I fell in love with the writing, the world which the author created and the way the author used words to entice me into it. It was Jacqueline Wilson who first inspired me to become a writer at the age of ten. I know a lot of people say that she only writes about broken homes and relationships but coming from a background where I had a mother, a father, siblings, friends and knowing that I was loved, Jacqueline Wilson's stories made me appreciate what I had. It also prepared me for secondary school where I met people whose parents were separated or divorced. When Little Darlings (pictured above) came out in 2010, I went to a signing to finally meet and thank her.

I also became a fan of Daisy Meadows' Rainbow Magic stories. My favourite fairy was Ruby the Red Fairy and my gosh, I would squabble with my friends if they said they were 'her' too. You know that stage in a girl's life where she likes something pretty and becomes obsessed with anything related to it? Yeah, I went through that... Lastly I began the Harry Potter series and loved J.K. Rowling's brain. I'm still on Order of Phoenix however after my Bangladesh copy ripped in half but I've watched the movies except for the last. Please don't hate me; they're on my TBR pile. Honest.

Secondary School & College: 11-18 years old

My love for books was quickly apparent during English lessons and amongst my friends. I did go through a stupid phase in year 8 where I gave up reading for other things but in year 9, I frequented the school library so much that I became a library monitor, hooked my friends up and made the library our lunch-time crib. I remember when The Twilight Saga: New Moon movie came out that I became interested in young adult literature. I read Twilight and instantly became 'Team Edward'. In anticipation for the next movie, I began reading The Vampire Diaries series by L.J. Smith which was also having a tv show in it's name. That was all I needed to officially become a YA fan. Thanks to Goodreads, I can actually keep track of all the YA books I've ever read. Some of my favourite books/series are The Morganville Vampires (Rachel Caine), Shiver (Maggie Stiefvater), The Host (Stephenie Meyer), Graceling (Kristin Cashore) and I Am Number Four (Pittacus Lore). Before leaving school, I donated most of my YA books to the library but Becca Fitzpatrick's Hush Hush series (pictured above) was always pre-ordered on my dad's Amazon account and my sister said she would kill me if I even thought about giving them away.

I joined the book club in year 10 and read Pride and Prejudice for the first time. Mr Darcy is still as lovely in my head as he was then. As well as the classics, I was introduced to books about serious issues or real life events such as Purple Hibiscus (Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche), Chains (Laurie Halse) and Kite Runner. The latter will always hold a special place in my heart because Khaled Hosseini's novel showed me how I could confidently write about my own culture and religion.

Once I hit 16 I think this is when my 'reading for pleasure' began deteriorating. I didn't have as much time besides studying the chunky textbooks and slightly boring literature which all humanitarian students can relate to. Only Frankenstein stood out for me as a beautiful piece of writing by Mary Shelley. The situation became dire because I started reading Hunger Games during my A-level exams. It was such a thrilling read that I almost began to resist the oppressive system that was education.

University: 18+

After finishing my first year of university, I have to say that I'm more impressed with all that I've learnt as an English undergraduate than by the books I've studied. I only have two favourites which are Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe) and The Hours (Michael Cunningham). However I made two discoveries: I didn't like all the classics that were out there such as Beowulf, Heart of Darkness, Mrs Dalloway and I definitely enjoyed postcolonial and cultural books.

I've tailored my second year module choices around these discoveries and will hopefully be studying postcolonial literature, women's writing, the legend that is King Arthur and Victorian fiction next year. Studying at university has made me realise that there are so many books that I still have not read. Sometimes I regret reading all those YA books because after a few, the story becomes formulaic so you already know the plot but you're just waiting for the next romantic scene. I wish I had spent more time reading the classics or the less known authors' works on culture and race or even finished the Jane Austen series! But then I remind myself that YA literature hooked me into reading again after a reckless year. They were relatable because I was a teenager but they also inspired me to do more for myself and for that I will cherish my love of YA books. To prove it to myself, soon as university was over, I dove straight into Divergent (Veronica Roth). I was clearly starved of YA because I finished it in two days and wrote a review about it on here.

So, in response to Ezra Pound, I do think reading tastes change over time but they are influenced by the context we live in so our previous tastes ultimately don't leave us. In year 9, I needed a place to escape to and supernatural YA fiction was the perfect option but now I need to raise my awareness of the world and it's long history in order to empower myself and others around me. So I do that and occasionally indulge in a bit of teenage recklessness.

Share me your reading journey! Have you read any of the books I've mentioned?

Have your reading tastes changed or are you loyal to one genre? Let me know in the comments below!

Rima x



In Her Footsteps

I wanted to write this before I left for the airport because I knew I would be an emotional wreck when I returned home. However, I got busy so I'm now writing this as my dad drives us back home down the M4.

My mum is going to Bangladesh today for eight weeks and two days (yes, I'm counting) and she is leaving my eldest sister and me in charge of looking after the house and family. My dad has reassured us that we will be fine while she's gone but it's such a big responsibility.

When I first found out that she was going to Bangladesh, I was in denial and kept telling her, 'You're not going' to which she replied, 'Yes, I am!' But then I had to be practical and started learning how to cook typical Asian dishes once my exams were over. I knew cooking Asian foods would be my biggest obstacle because we're slowly approaching the month of Ramadan and my family (like most) seek comfort food after a day of fasting. Therefore, there were days when my mother shadowed me as I added the garlic or spices after which I would frantically wipe my hands on my apron to scribble this step on a piece of paper. Some days, however, she left me alone in the kitchen to prepare and cook three separate dishes. I'm telling you now that whipping up three individual pasta dishes is easier because the multi-tasking involved cooking curries almost killed me. Thankfully, my mum froze some dishes before she left so all I have to do is defrost them and they're ready to eat!

During the last few weeks, I have had to learn a lot. I've made many notes of recipes and mental reminders and I'm hoping I remember it all. Unfortunately, I have the worst memory ever so I'm praying my brain is screwed on tightly (FYI I did almost put a bottle of oil in the fridge).

There's so much my mum does for us that it would be futile to list (plus, many mothers do the same). That's why it's going to be really hard without her. I haven't stayed away from her for this long, none of my family have. I don't really know how I will cope. During the past few weeks I've wished several times that I could travel to the future when my mum has returned just so I could know how to manage things now. If I had my way, I wouldn't have let her go. My eldest sister was huffing about my mum going but it's easier to comfort someone else. I told her that mum needs a break, that she deserves time to herself. Then she says, 'this is how mum must feel whenever we go on residential' and I realise how true that is. Only difference is that she's going for eight weeks and not a week.

I don't why it's so hard to let go of you mother...

Who will plait your hair when your arms ache from fatigue?

Who will stir the "perfect" amount of sugar into your tea?

Who will clip your nails when you can no longer reach your toes?

Who will bother getting a bowl of Frosties and milk when you're craving a midnight snack?

I don't really do it because you can't. I do it because you did it for me.

I hadn't cried up until now. I was the only one besides my dad who would be available to go to the airport so I knew I was the last to say goodbye. It's so hectic in the airport and when she had to leave for immigration I panicked and started blubbering. My dad didn't let that go on for too long though thankfully because he urged us towards the airport exit. I don't know how the next few weeks will be. I don't know whether I will remember all the things my mum has said I should remember. I don't know whether I will be able to coordinate the things that happen in my family. All I do know is that I will try my best to act in my mother's footsteps.

After God, I devote my life to my mother and father. I try my best to help them, make them laugh, make them proud. It's only recently that my mother and I have become really close. Whenever we're laughing together about something, my younger sister often randomly says, 'amma (mum), lal afa (what she calls me) is your favourite daughter innit?' I always respond that I wasn't always her favourite. You can tell when you live in a big family such as mine whose your mother's favourite and a year ago it certainly wasn't me. But then I learnt how Islam teaches that 'Paradise lies beneath your mother's feet' and that transformed my attitude towards my mother.

I began to change the way I spoke to her. I reminded myself of that teaching whenever I felt like raising my voice. I realised that although it was my life, my parents were responsible for that life so they deserve to be respected irregardless of my rebelling hormones. Because of that teaching, I finally understood why in year 7 my friend was shocked that I had shouted at my mother. I also regretted the time I told my parents that I would visit them in the care home near our house because Islam taught to look after your parents in old age as they did for you. So I honour the upbringing they gave me and treat them with respect. I recognise the sacrifices my mother made to ensure that we were happy and sacrifice my time to revise or study to help her in return. Our relationship isn't perfect (whose is right?), we do argue sometimes but I'm practicing. I will always be practicing.

I don't ever want to be angry and impatient towards her because a mother's grief never goes unanswered. I remember once at an Islamic gathering, a student said how her friend was arguing with her mother and then when her mother asked for water, she refused to bring it because they had just argued and that would be awkward. Shortly after, her sister in law brought water but her mother had passed away. That story serves as a strong reminder whenever I feel too arrogant to forgive my mother or anyone. My mother on the other hand is amazing at forgiving people. She will be annoyed with you one second and offering you a plate of rice with meat the next. No amount of anger could equal to a mother's love.

My mother taught me to love, to laugh and to cry. She taught me how to sacrifice, how to give up, how to dream for something better. The next few weeks will be hard. They will put everything she taught me to the test. I just hope I do half as good a job as she does.

I hope I make her proud, walking in her footsteps. 

 

Don't Appropriate My 'Dress and Trousers'

A new trend in the fashion industry has supposedly emerged called the 'dress over pants'. Kendall Jenner was recently seen sporting a long white tunic over a pair of white trousers and suddenly articles were calling her "excruciatingly cool" and a "pioneer" of the outfit.

The tunic-over-pants actually originates from the shalwar kameez* which Asian women have been wearing for centuries since the Mughal era. They wore them when they first arrived in Europe and America and they wear them to this day. But no one is taking photos of them and praising how "chic" they look. What's more, they can tell you about the humiliation they received in the Western world. How their garments were compared in relation to Western clothing and deemed "backward" or "unfashionable". So do you see how it's wrong to applaud Kendall Jenner's stylist? It's just another example of cultural appropriation existing today: only when a white celebrity wears another culture's clothes, it is deemed a fashion statement.

As a daughter of Bangladeshi migrants, I was brought up wearing shalwar kameezes. My grandmother wore cotton sarees* and after having six children, my mother began to wear printed maxi dresses. But whilst they wore an over-garment when they went outside, I was expected to wear a shalwar kameez. I owned several in different colours, prints and materials.

I slowly began to dislike them when I joined primary school. When there were any school assemblies and we were told to bring in our own clothes, I would be one of the few girls in shalwar kameez whilst the rest wore t-shirts and jeans. My sisters and I were not allowed to wear jeans because they were "tight" and "not cultural". It was only during Eid and Christmas parties at school that I felt I could proudly wear my shalwar kameez - this time a sequined number. But as I grew older and witnessed more of the world, I began to long for t-shirts and jeans. I saw them on my friends and on my teachers, on strangers in the streets and on television actors and asked myself, "Why can't I own a pair?"

I didn't know then that I was being brainwashed into thinking I needed to adopt a certain culture in order to fit in. I didn't know the Western world always had a knack at showing off things they possessed to intimidate its colonies. To intimidate me. They made us realize that we were not "white" and we will never be regardless of our expensive polo shirts from Oxford Street.

When my parents eventually allowed me to buy two pairs of straight-cut jeans and three t-shirts from Asda for my residential trip in year 6, I was ecstatic. I would finally look like the other girls! During the next five days, I acted as though I had always worn t-shirts and jeans. The reality hit me when a week later I was dragging my feet to my grandmother's house in a black shalwar kameez with printed roses. Looking back, I wish I could tell myself all the things I now know about my culture:

"To my twelve year old self,

Hold your head up high when you wear your dress over your trousers.

Be proud that whilst you live in one country, your mother's country still welcomes you.

Look how beautifully your shalwar matches your kameez, how the chador hangs on your shoulders and rests on your chest in an embrace.

It isn't a prison. It is freedom."

I'm 19 now and I still wear shalwar kameezes at home. I love them. They are a part of my identity. Over the years, I have come up with several styles. I can present myself in a shalwar kameez with a chador* flung across my chest before my parents and siblings, or throw the chador quickly around my head before opening the front door, or I can wrap it neatly around my neck before greeting guests. I no longer desire t-shirts and jeans because, for me, they symbolize the power Western culture held over my origins as a British-Bangladeshi.

Therefore it is unfair that Kendall Jenner is able to wear an outfit and be praised for her ingenuity when Asian women have been fighting for this right for decades. The unjust glamorisation of diverse cultures by Westerners is worryingly abundant, adopting clothing, hairstyles, speech and art, and Kendall Jenner is a representation of this insecure world. They compared my culture in relation to theirs before I was even born. And when I was, they didn't see a British girl wearing a shalwar kameez, they saw a brown girl peculiarly wearing a dress over trousers. This is why I ask them not to appropriate a culture they were initially ignorant to accept.

*** Glosses:

- shalwar kameez: outfit made up of a tunic and trouser

- saree: 5-8 meters of material wrapped around the waist with one end draped over the shoulder

- chador: piece of cloth matching a shalwar kameez, typically known as dupatta

Divergent | Book & Movie Review

My mum guilt-tripped me into taking my little brother to the park today. She says I spend too much time with my books in bed (lol). So I'm currently sitting on a blanket in the park, the ground feels rough under me, and I'm writing a review of Veronica Roth's YA dystopian novel, Divergent.

I've been meaning to read this book ever since it came out in 2011 and was rated a New York Times bestseller but my studies overwhelmed me. Now in 2015 and off on summer break after my first undergraduate year, I made sure it was the first thing I read. Due to my English degree I have not been able to read for pleasure this year therefore this was appealing in so many ways. I will also include my review of the movie adaptation of Divergent below so you can see how the two worked together.


Divergent tells the story of a teenager, Beatrice Prior (Tris), searching for her identity. The world has been divided into five factions: Dauntless, Abnegation, Erudite, Amity and Candor in an attempt to avoid the five flaws of human nature: cowardice, selfishness, ignorance, aggression and dishonesty. Every sixteen year old is required to choose to live in one of these factions based on an aptitude test. Therefore when Tris receives inconclusive results after hers, she learns that her divergence poses a threat to the system. Her conflicting identity leads her into danger as she constantly needs to assess who is to be trusted with her secret.

I really enjoyed this book. It has to be my favourite YA dystopian novel alongside The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Although, I do have a bone to pick with Divergent's publisher (and all publishers guilty of doing this) because they constantly compare it to The Hunger Games. Consequently, I often felt frustrated reading about Tris' initiation process thinking why it was dominating the plot, because in The Hunger Games Katniss' training was described in a few chapters.

My favourite moments of the novel are in relation to its strengths as a piece of writing. The concept behind the faction world was interesting because it is true that current world affairs are due to cowardice, selfishness, dishonesty, aggression and ignorance. Therefore while Tris struggles with her identity, the novel simultaneously reveals several morals for humans. It questions whether humans can be perfect and if not, can their flaws then be justified? My favourite line of the book, and my quote of the month, is when Tris' mum reminds her that '"human beings as a whole cannot be good for long before the bad creeps back in and poisons us again."'' I've read many YA books over the years exploring different aspects of teenage-hood which we can all relate to but I felt Divergent did something better: it made me want to be a better human. It made me question whether I can be brave, selfless, honest, peaceful and knowledgeable and revealed that there is strength in striving for these traits. an

What was also refreshing to discover was the lack of a love-triangle (yes!) in Divergent. Roth depicts a teenager with a crush on her teacher (we've all been there) but he does not suddenly become the air she needs to survive. Instead we are shown how their relationship slowly blossoms from respect for one another into something more.

Furthermore, I used to hate criticising books I fell in love with but my English degree has made me cynical. Since the initiation process was so long, I felt the ending of Divergent was a little rushed. Tris witnesses the attack but we aren't given a wider scope of the horror that is unfolding before she runs to save everyone. Nevertheless Roth creates a character who is confident in recognising right from wrong but is not a superhero to have figured out everything by the age of sixteen. I can imagine she is a role-model for teenagers and adults of both gender across the globe and therefore I would recommend Divergent merely because she symbolises something we are proud of but also struggle with: our humanity.

MOVIE TIME!

I get awfully excited when a good book is being adapted for the big screen. Divergent is one! I knew about this before I had read the book and as hard as I tried to avoid any media coverage of the cast, my will is weak. Therefore I may or may not have watched every single interview of the Divergent cast on YouTube during my A-level exam revision... (procrastination is wonderfully unique). It didn't help that EVERYBODY was talking about how Shailene Woodley was an amazing actor in John Green's The Fault in Our Stars but at least I had high hopes she would propel Divergent into the next big blockbuster.

Directed by Neil Burger and released in 2014, Divergent was intense, witty and inspiring. The opening scenes portray the world of five factions and the fence bordering it all. My favourite scene is right after the Choosing Ceremony where the Dauntless initiates climb up to the train platform and jump onto a moving train. Shailene's acting was brilliant here because I felt anxious for Tris who had lived in Abnegation for sixteen years as well as cringed when she struggled to climb the metal rods supporting the platform. Much like the book, Tris in the movie did not suddenly exhibit dauntless skills in jumping off trains and hand combat. Rather you get to see her character progress physically and mentally 
throughout the movie.

In terms of casting, I accepted Shailene as Tris because her acting reputation was more valuable than the fact that Tris in the novel is much shorter than Shailene's 5 '8". However I am stunned by the resemblance between the character Tobias Eaton (Four) and actor Theo James. The benefit of seeing the cast before reading the book was that I got to see how Theo James's physical appearance suited Four's very well. And then when watching the movie, Theo carried himself exactly how I imagined Four would.

The only thing I am unsure about is the way Neil Burger decided to script the movie. Instead of sticking to a linear adaptation of the novel, he connects different moments together in the movie. I was very surprised that the movie still worked and suggest that in Burger's defence playing around with the events revived a plot which fans were aware of since 2011. It is definitely a must-see blockbuster movie. The movie sequel of The Divergent Series: Insurgent is out on DVD next month so if you like the sound of a movie that will keep you on your toes (on the sofa), check out the compelling Divergent series.

If you have read Divergent / the Divergent series (I'm still completing Insurgent) or watched the movie or done both, let me know what you thought of them in the comments below. I'm always up for discussing Four's tattoos. ;)

Any feedback is also welcome!

Dreams on Post-it notes

A singer once came to my secondary school during assembly to talk about how she followed her dream.


She's been singing from a young age, sharing her talent before family and friends after Christmas dinner but really she wanted to sing to the world.


Every night, before she went to bed, she would ask herself, "what did I do today that's one step closer to my dream?" Every night she had an answer and she scribbled it on a post-it note.


Her advice stuck with me to this day. So when I'm busy handing in an assignment or just having a bad day, I still have my dream waiting for me, pushing me past the present, making me stronger.


I'm only just starting to realise how easy it is to get trapped in everyday life. We wake up, eat, work and sleep, conditioning our bodies and souls into thinking that's all there is to exist for.


It's poisonous. Snap out of it.


Somewhere in everyone is a little child who dreamt to be an astronaut or a doctor or a writer. Your life may be busy now, you may need to make money to survive but you don't have to sacrifice your dream.


You can walk towards it, one post-it note at a time.




~ Rima

Dear Mother

Dear Mother,

Why do you cry so much?

Why do you cry when they betrayed you?

When they left you?

You suffered and sacrificed for them all these years but they disowned you within minutes.

Don't you know their heart is sealed over with stone and they are blind to your love?

Your heart aches for them daily yet I can't understand why you cry so much.

I hear you from my room. 

At first the clattering of dishes, the dropping of lids to stir.

Then, the memory of their betrayal, the loss in your life jolts through your body.

Your moans crawl the stairs and find me, they strike the depths of my soul.

It infuriates me.

I avoid being alone with you because of this.

You remind me of the pain I thought I had buried deep within me.

Dear mother, why do you cry so much?