Books


I can’t believe I am saying this, but I miss Hong Kong.  I miss the bookstores.

Nick Hornby and the terrible Bill Bryson are very popular among the bookstores here in Cologne.  But try look for Kurt Vonnegut or Norman Mailer in their English books section, it’s more difficult than finding a grocery store that is open on Sunday. 

Page One is my favorite bookstore in Hong Kong.  Its collections of classic and comtempory literatry, art, economics, etc… are impressive.  And if you cannot find what you are looking for, they’d be happy to place an order for you – without additional charge.  

I know, I should use Amazon, or better yet, imporve my German at the speed of light so that I can read Stefan Zweig in his native language.  On second thought, I’d prefer the first option.  But here is the thing, I found buying stuff online scary.  Pretty ironic for a person who spends most of her waking time in front of a computer.

So, can someone knock some senses into me please?

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Ms. Dowd is a New York Times Op-Ed columnist.  She has been writing about the White House and its occupants since the Regan era. 

Mrs. Clinton is a democratic contender for the top job.  She has been losing voters since her brainy husband invited himself to the race.  Clearly, he doesn’t want to be remembered as The First ‘First Husband’.  “Not cool.  What would Monica think of me then?”

Ms. Dowd’s here to offer some advice: “Sunny beats gloomy. Consistency beats flipping. Bedazzling beats begrudging. Confidence beats whining.”  That’s also a great advice for us all.  Life is full of politics, don’t you agree?

Coincidentally, I am reading Ms. Dowd’s new book “Are Men Necessary?”.  Not surprisingly, she understands politics between the sexes very well.  From feminist to sexist, from Barbie to Sex and the City, from Cosmo girl to Playboy, she’s seen it all.  Sexual realities and absurdities elegantly discussed in that biting, provocative, hilarious tone of hers.  She has easily made Oscar Wilde the ladies’ man by referencing him every other page.  (Clearly, dear Oscar knew a thing or two about hetero relationship.)

I think I’ve just found myself another Art Buchwald.