“I must say a word about fear. It is life’s only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind always. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. Then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy.” (page 178)

This is one of the best fictional books I’ve read in a very long time. I struggled with the first few chapters, but in hindsight, they were necessary to set the context for the rest of the book. Once I hit the half-way point, I couldn’t put it down.

Briefly, the novel tells the story of Pi Patel, a sixteen-year-old Indian boy from Tamil Nadu. Pi boards a ship with his family and some of the animals from their zoo, but the ship sinks enroute and Pi is stranded on a lifeboat, fighting for survival.

I particularly enjoyed the allegorical elements of the story, both spiritual and literary (the latter didn’t become obvious until the very end of the book). My background in Hindu lore and scriptures added an additional dimension to the story for me – Pi makes many references to Indian gods and heros. Arjuna and Sri Krishna, of the Bhagavad Gita, both get a mention!

The ending of this book had me reeling; I was completely caught up in the story with unquestioning enthusiasm so the conclusion took me by surprise. This is one of those rare books that I would like to read again.

Why? You must read it to find out! No spoilers here! ;-)

I wrote a rave review of the second volume of this series and if I had written a review about the first volume, it would have also been very positive.

I find Sri Easwaran’s writing style very warm and engaging. Because I already have more than a passing familiarity with the Bhagavad Gita, it was very easy for me to put the ideas from the books into context. But I truly believe that even someone who is new to the Gita could benefit from reading these commentaries.

The commentaries are written with the intention of applying the ideas presented in the Bhagavad Gita to day-to-day living, with plentiful examples. The author discusses everything from positive ways to handle conflict, interacting with your family and friends and even world politics and the environment.

I wouldn’t hesitate to read these books a second time and will continue consult them as I study the Bhagavad Gita.

And when we look at things we think we’re just looking out of our eyes like we’re looking out of little windows and there’s a person inside our head, but we’re not. We’re looking at a screen inside our heads, like a computer screen. (p.116)

This is a tough book to write a traditional review about simply because it’s so unusual. It’s not a story in the usual sense, but an account of life (fictional; written by an author who works with autistic people) written in the voice of a 15-year-old autistic boy named Christopher.

I read this book quickly – in less than a day – and it kept me interested from beginning to end. It’s an easy read because the language is clear and simple. But the carefully constructed plot keeps the pages turning. I found it thrilling to view life from such a vastly different perspective. I even learned some new things.

Throughout the book, I found myself become so absorbed in Christopher’s world and point of view that I felt, like he often did, that the adults around him were acting irrationally. It definitely made me think.

This book stayed with me long after I finished – I even had dreams about it. I recommend it.

I found this book on someone’s lawn – a sidewalk giveaway. It smelled musty, like it had been stored for a long time in a basement. I really enjoyed Mitchard’s book ‘The Deep End of the Ocean’ and having recently read ‘Losing Jessica,’ a true story about a custody battle, I thought it would be interesting to read a fictional account of one.

The story revolves around the custody battle over a young child after the death of her parents. Both the paternal and maternal grandparents fight for custody, though the maternal parents have had primary care of the child since birth (their daughter was dying of cancer before dying, along with her husband, in a car wreck). The child’s bachelor uncle puts in a bid for adoption, but it’s refused because he himself is adopted (so he and his sister are not blood relatives).

It comes down to a court battle between the uncle and the child’s godparents. The ending is unexpected and sweet. The most intrigueing chapter of the book was the epilogue, in which the little girl, now much older, tells her own story.

This novel isn’t a work of great literature or anything, but it was entertaining and held my attention. The characters invited empathy and I do give Mitchard credit for offering the viewpoints of all the characters. She doesn’t place her characters up on a pedastal either – they all demonstrated typically human foibles and they all had sufficient redeeming qualities that you want to like them.

It was okay. I wouldn’t read it again, but it was free. I’ve already given it away to its next reader.

It’s very rare for me to dislike a book, but I really disliked this one. I plodded half-way through it before I realised it really had no redeeming value, then forced myself to finish despite my misgivings.

I picked this book randomly off the fiction shelf at the library – something I occasionally do to explore different authors and new genres. Kenneth Radu is a Canadian author, the synopsis sounded interesting and I had high hopes.

They were quickly dashed.

It’s not a very well-written book, though not horribly written either. The plot, such as it is, moves along. There is some character development, though the characters were so shallow I sometimes wished he would stop developing them. The book is readable, but not compelling.

The story, in a nutshell: A small bedroom community outside of Montreal is haunted by a series of strange deaths – all of them wealthy local women working in their gardens. The story is mostly told from the point of view of a widower who tends the gardens of these well-to-do residents. The widowers daughter, who was sexually harassed by her university art professor, is also a prominent character.

The book has a strange melancholy mood and almost every single character is potrayed in a negative light. There is no meaning, no hope, no redeeming moments in this novel. The reader is shown a dangerous world dominated by selfish, insensitive, petty people. Every character is either self-absorbed, callous or mentally ill (or all three!). It’s dark, dark, dark. Reading it made me depressed.

Worst of all, I fought my way all the way to the end in hopes that somehow it would all come together and make sense. It didn’t. How frustrating!

Definitely not recommended.

Proper utilization of time is so important. While we have this body, and especially this amazing human brain, I think every minute is something precious. Our day-to-day existence is very much alive with hope, although there is no guarantee of our future. There is no guarantee that tomorrow at this time we will be here. But still we are working for that purely on the basis of hope. So we need to make the best use of our time. (page 63)

This is my first read of this – it’s a book I’ve been meaning to read for many years now. In fact, I own the follow-up book, ‘The Art of Happiness at Work’ and found it very helpful.

I found this book a bit dense in spots and noticed that it didn’t flow very well. I grew bored as Howard Cutler delved into discussions of more psychological topics, straying away from the Dalai Lama’s ideas. In a few of the chapters, I wondered why the Dalai Lama was listed as the principle author, since this book was so obviously Howard Cutler’s (I should note that I didn’t feel this way about ‘The Art of Happiness at Work’).

However, there are some great quotes from His Holiness and some interesting dialogue between the Dalai Lama and Cutler. As I read some of the Dalai Lama’s thoughts, I found myself drawing upon my past studies of Buddhist and Hindu philosophy in order to understand where he was coming from. I’m curious how someone without a background in those philosophies would place those ideas in context.

Overall, this book does an excellent job of helping the reader understand how the Dalai Lama’s ideas apply to day-to-day living. I found the meditations in the book well-presented and useful. I found the book inspiring in many ways. I think this book will be interesting to people who know nothing about Buddhism and people who have studied Buddhist philosophy.

I recommend it to anyone who is interested in cultivating more contentment and genuine happiness in life.

My feet took me effortlessly around the room as I tried to see the flowers in his paintings. Even in his down-times he painted light, he painted with bold colours. Maybe that’s what he meant when he said ‘Creativity takes courage’, that very day he showed up and painted no matter waht else was happening in his life. (page 44-45)

I picked up this novel with healthy skepticism, because my previous experience with this author was not so good – her book ‘Gypsy Masala’ left me cold. But I pleasantly surprised!

This book was an improvement! Although I’m still uncomfortable with the author’s style of writing, the characters were vibrant and compelling (even the dead ones). The plot was interesting and kept me turning the pages. And the premise of the story was ingenious.

The main character, Nina, leaves her job in law and very accidentally (you could even say serendipitously), finds her way back to her true passion, painting. I truly enjoyed watching the Nina’s creative persona bloom as she rediscovered her passion for painting.

Most of all, I enjoyed the way this book pokes fun at the art industry. Last fall, I was exploring art galleries with my friend E and we coined the term ‘suchness’ (we found the word on a pretentious ‘intellectual’ description for an exhibition) to describe art that’s basically meaningless, yet has some quasi-intellectual meaning applied to it merely to make it seem meaningful in some dramatic way.

In this story, the art – Nina’s paintings – is ‘real’ (read: meaningful) but the ‘suchness’ is a big lie. The more the Nina tries to extricate herself from her own created ‘suchness,’ the more the ‘suchness’ takes on a life of its own. It’s both funny and breathtaking and kept me glued to the book until I turned last page.

I really enjoyed this one – picked it up at lunchtime and was finished reading it just before midnight. It made me want to paint – and listen to Madame Butterfly.

This book is volume 2 of a series of commentaries I’ve been reading to supplement my studies of the Bhagavad Gita. Because I’m using these books for study, each one is taking months to read through. I started volume 2 sometime last year.

It’s hard to evaluate these books in comparison to my typical reading. I have nothing but praise for Sri Eknath Easwaran and nothing but profound respect for the Bhagavad Gita. I’m in my third year of studying this Hindu scripture and each day, Eknath Easwaran’s commentaries help shape and inform the way I live my life and teach my classes.

These commentaries go way beyond ‘simple reading’ for me. For me, Easwaran truly demonstrates that the Gita is a ‘manual for daily living.’

I’ve now moved on to Volume 3, the final installment of the commentaries.

“When I forget who I am, I have only to return to my Yoga mat to remember. But I also understand that though those pockets are chock full of blessings, from time to time they can still feel empty. It is my embrace of that emptiness that brings me closest to the truth of being human. I would never wish for a life without pain. Pain is my teacher; it is what allows me to feel the suffering of others. I rejoice that I have a heart big enough to break over and over again.”(21-22)

Amy Weintraub’s words touched me deeply, because I too recovered from an episode of depression through therapy combined with daily Yoga practice. During a time when I felt like I had been submerged into a deep hole and couldn’t find the light, Yoga was the rope I used to pull myself out. My Yoga mat was my refuge, the one place on the planet I felt I could truly be myself – and love myself, just the way I was.

In the book ‘Yoga for Depression,’ Amy offers her own story and a wealth of information about Yoga, physiological effects of the practice and aspects of Yoga philsophy that can reinforce the work we do on our Yoga mats. This is an incredible, comprehensive and very useful book. If I’m ever offered the opportunity to teach a Yoga Teacher Training, this book will be on my syllabus.

In addition to its value in offering an alternative therapy for sufferers of depression, it also provides one of the clearest and most practical explanations of the various aspects of Yoga Philosophy that I’ve ever read. What’s most remarkable is the way Amy Weintraub seamlessly integrates the ideas of principles of the philosophy into the work we do on the mat and, as Yoga teachers, how we can integrate it into our classes.

Students of Yoga will benefit from this book, regardless of whether they suffer depression. This book is not a picture book full of postures – there are dozens of those books already on the market. Instead, the author offers ways to deepen your Yoga practice, to use yoga as a vehicle for self-knowledge and to have a happier life.

For teachers of Yoga, this book offers ideas and concepts to bring compassion and the true spirit of Yoga into classes. I was particularly inspired by her discussion of the language we use – how the words we choose can affect the experience a student has in a posture. I found the sections on pranayama and breath awareness to be very useful and helpful to me. I’ve struggled recently to bring awareness of breath back into my classes and I found Amy’s advice both practical and inspiring. I love the way Amy is able to bring the concept of the ‘true self’ into her classes – I aspire to do the same as I continue to develop as a teacher.

There is so much more I could say about this book – it covers so many relevant topics. The chapter on meditation is very good. The sections about how students hold and release past traumas in their bodies was enlightening. The chapter on ‘Why Yoga Works’ provides an excellent and readable explanation of what medical researchers have discovered about the efficacy of Yoga and Meditation.

How good was this book? I plan to buy a copy for my library. Those of you who know me know that there is no greater endorsement. I have been trying to reduce my library, not expand it, but this volume is a must-have.

Highly recommended!!

_“All sorrow comes from fear.
From nothing else._

_When you know this, You become free of it,
And desire melts away._

_You become happy
And still.”_

(page 29)

The Ashtavakra Gita is a Hindu scripture and in this volume, it’s translated by Thomas Byron. The translator is clearly fond of this text, and it’s rendered with poetic beauty.

This Gita is typical of the many Hindu Scriptures that are out there. The chapters explore topics like ‘wisdom,’ ‘the mind,’ ‘stillness,’ ect. Though beautiful, I found the word to lack depth. The book offered no commentary, so the reader was left with her own thoughts as she purused the verses.

I read it less as a book, or a study of ideas and more like I would a volume of inspiring poetry.

At times, it was repetitive and I grew bored with it. Having never read another translation, I’m not sure if this is the fault of the text or the translator. Byrom mentions in passing that he has removed some of the refererences to the ‘characters’ in this Gita – persumably this was a dialogue between two characters and that aspect of the scripture was not included. Perhaps this would have added some context and structure to the verses.

I was quite disturbed by one aspect of this translation. Over and over again, the text asserts that meditiation is not necessary or extraneous (ie: “Meditation is not needed” page 31). Because there is no context and no commentary, the reader may be led to believe that meditation is not a useful part of a spiritual life! In fact, the Gita is merely asserting that once liberation is reached, one reaches a plane that supersedes the meditative state.

Because of the lack of commentary and explanation, I would recommend this book only to serious spiritual scholars and then, only in the context of study with a qualified teacher.