Essentially, the novel concentrates on only one character: Jonathan Noel. It narrates his life grievances and how they have filled him with distrust, caused him to cower in fear at change and cling timorously to his daily routines. It explores how a slight disruption in his mundane routines, caused by a pigeon, leads to his mental collapse.

Seventy-five pages long, yet packed with unfathomed riveting content, "The Pigeon" is the most fitting book for someone of my otiose nature. Perfect almost. It passes all of my requirements in a book: (1) Brevity (Seventy-five pages long. Hell yes! Tick!) (2) Well-written (Tick!) (3) Engrossing factor (Tick!). Fantastic!!

I loved Suskind's writing style in this book. The words moved with pace and vigour, trudging across each page with no cerebration of rest, with no intention of admiring sceneries with superfluous, fanciful verbs and metaphors - no, there was no hiatus, there was only a crusade of words marching diligently towards the very last page of my orange Penguin book. That's not to say Suskind did not write the book eloquently - no, no, no! Far from that, very far from that. Concision did not prevent him from showing off artistic verbosity- each word seemed to selected with purpose and each sentence seemed to be constructed to be relished. He has recreated every mundane, everyday event into something enthralling. For example, an excerpt from the book, pertaining to Noel's room:

"... it would remain Jonathan's island of security in a world of insecurity, his refuge, his beloved- yes she received him with a tender embrace each evening when he returned home, she offered warmth and protection, she nourished both body and soul, was always there when he needed her and did not desert him. She was in point of fact the only thing that had proved dependable in his life." - page 7

Fantastic!

Should you read this book?
In celebration of Suskind's style of brevity (but without the grace and brilliance), I will keep this review brusque. YES. YOU SHOULD READ THIS BOOK!!!

I must preface this entry with a sobering disclaimer - I am no art aficionado; in fact,I am far, far, far, very far from it. I'm pretty certain my critical appraisals for art are limited to "Wow, that looks awesome!" and "I like that!" So yesterday, equipped with zero knowledge and predispositions, and accompanied by a much smarter and cooler companion, I headed to the Ian Potter Centre to gawk at some creations.

I think one of my favourites has to be "The Station Yard" by Russell Drysdale; I think I have a soft spot for grey chiaroscuros.
Okay, so wait for it... WOW, IT LOOKS AWESOME! *GLEE*
This next one, by James Gleeson, has a title that's a bit of a mouthful: "We inhabit the corrosive littoral of habit". What do you think this one is about?

Well, the caption under the painting purports:
"Gleeson draws the imagery of his dreams and depicts a beautiful coastline eroding and slowly washing away. Like the landscape, the figures appear passive and comfortable, however ultimately corroded by their inability to embrace much needed and necessary change."

I think, despite being thoroughly inapt in artistic observation, my enjoyment was not hindered. That's what's so fantastic about paintings - you needn't have esoteric knowledge to feel something grand, because what they communicate, and the emotions they evoke are so subjective. Sometimes you may not have the slightest idea what a painting is about, it may make absolutely no sense - but it exalts your imagination and elicits a sigh of beguilement, and you find that's more than satisfying.

Entry to the Ian Potter Centre is affordable - all current exhibitions are free, with the exception of the Rupert Bunny Exhibition ($12 concession). Pop by if you're in Melbourne city, it's great!
I'll leave you now with some portraits I captured on my phone (before it died), after the jump.

My frequent bus rides to university are prosy and boring when divorced from the company of a book. One of my previous gallants had been the non-fiction, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. The purchase had been made on a whim, with the encouragement of a 30% discount offer that gleaned at me in its imploring way (like all discount vouchers do). How could I resist? Yeah, you would have done the same. Yes, you would. Don't lie.

In Cold Blood takes place in 1959, Kansas, where the Clutter family resides. The Clutter family consists of Herb, his wife Bonnie and their two children, Nancy and Kenyon. In a nutshell, the novel is about how they died at the hands of Dick Hickock and Perry Smith.

Well, the title of the book is a pretty accurate synopsis of what the book is about. But of course, how can I possibly leave you all unsatisfied with such a laconic review? The Pigeon Finds a Hotdog is an adorable, albeit simply illustrated book. Nothing of grandeur like profligate sparkly stuff, complicated pop ups or extravagant characters. No, no! This ill-tempered pigeon needs none of that! A few rough lines here, a circle there and voila! A handsome yet modest Mr Pigeon is born!

Who are Professor Bobby & Co.?
Professor Bobby is an athletic youth, a real go-getter. Eyes of china blue and chatoyant grey, with Adonis good looks. His nicknames include Bobster, Bobz, Bobbinator and Bubzy.

Bobby, when he was a pup.