Dolly Parton

Obitutary of country-music legends, such as George Jones, had filled half page in Time magazine in 2013. After the death of Dolly Parton was announced by her family less than two months ago, the magazine dedicated the cover and a four-page feature to pay tribute to the country-music superstar. 

I didn't know too much details of her rags-to-rhinestones career, and wasn't aware that she won eleven Grammy Awards. I then borrowed the novel written by Dolly Parton and James Patterson: Run, Rose, Run. Featured in the thriller, a young singer-songwriter AnnieLee Keyes met a reclusive music legend Ruthanna Ryder who has retired. To a certain degree, AnnieLee looks like the next Taylor Swift, and Ruthanna is the familiar Dolly Parton who created the Book Garden to put books in the hands of needy kids in the story.

A story of make-believe. That's like what Dolly Parton said, "I don't practice my faith; I live it."

Grief

Wally Lamb's novel The River is Waiting is a daring exploration into the question if the weight of having been a good parent can atone for atrocity of killing one's child.

After the loss of his job, a stay-at-home father, Corby Ledbetter, killed one of his children in a car accident. He was sentenced to prison because blood test results indicated he was drunk and strung out on benzos. When the judge handed down the charge of manslaughter, she said some sentences were easy to decide, others kept her up at night. And Corby's was one of the latter ones. 

For me, this book by Wally Lamb is both an easy choice (one of the best I have read this year) and one that keeps me up at night (from a heart-shattering story). 

Age

Who hasn't, at some point, picked up a book but dropped it after a few chapters?

I heard about the fifty-pages test after the age of fifty. The formula, somewhat like how runners calculate the maximum heart rate by "220 minus your age", is dubbed Nancy Pearl's formula. 

Known as "America's Librarian", Nancy Pearl coined the Rule of 50, which has served as a handy blueprint for readers. She says we should give a book fifty pages. If you like what you're reading, keep going. If you don't, set it aside and quit. 

But if you're over the age of fifty, take your age and subtract it from a hundred. The result is the number of pages you should read before deciding to move on. So, if you're seventy, give the book thirty pages. 

"Life is too short to waste on reading a book you're not enjoying," argues Nancy Pearl. If I have to explain her formula, it would be that after the age of fifty, we should have been more keen-eyed and sharp-eared. So much so, we know how to find the right book that matches us within the first few pages.   

Twice

Come to think of it, you do something wrong and can always go back and redo your past.

A bad grade on a physics examination? Go back and ace it. 

A wrong investment in today's stock market? Time travel to cancel the transaction.

A strikeout in a baseball game? Replay the game and hit the pitched ball.

A stupid choice in your driving route? Get a second chance and have do-overs.

That's exactly what happened in Mitch Albom's new novel Twice. At first glance, the power to relive any moment seems to be a gift. We don't have to take responsibility for the first mistake; we always get the second chance. 

Not endless chances, mind you. Alfie Logan, who discovered his magical power at the age of eight in Twice, learns to take advantage of the second chance. But it won't fix everything. He can't keep messing up and wiping the slate clean. He can only undo the first and get the second shot. Then, no more. The second time won't always be better than the first.  

And at some point, as Alfie finds out, we can get tired of reliving the past. If we count all the repeated hours, days, months, and years, Alfie Logan should have had many lifetimes. Which is why he said, "You're ready for what comes next."

Curry

How to have the best shot? That's what thousands of students are asking – about the basketball, not the flu shot – after the four-time NBA champion Stephen Curry's visit to Hong Kong.

That reminds me of Ann Napolitano who wrote the story of a basketball player in her novel Hello Beautiful. The player, five foot eight, has endless hours of practice before entering the varsity team. He has the innovative idea of taping cardboard to his glasses so he can't look down and see his feet. Wearing those glasses and dribbling up and down the sidewalk allows him get the feel for how the ball bounce without looking. 

Ann Napolitano watched countless Golden State Warriors games on the way to writing this novel. She even gives a shout-out loud to Steph Curry for the joy of watching him dribble with no-look passes.

Her book turns out to be a slam dunk.

Balance

"Hey, dad. You're busy as a beaver in flood times. Busy as popcorn in a skillet."

So begins The #1 Dad Book by James Patterson, whose storytelling skill is remarkable. Trust me, this book on parenting is even more powerful than his novels. 

I read this book after walking my daughter to the taxi station this afternoon. She carried the birthday gifts for her friend who is turning 17. That gave me chance to help bringing a bottle of non alcoholic white grape sparkling juice. There's no getting around it; I have to admit that the ones and twos and threes are over in the blink of an eye. My girl is grown up. Gone girl.

Like what James Patterson describes a dad's life: a life as a game in which we are juggling five balls in the air. You name them – work, family, health, friends, and spirit – and you're keeping all of these in the air.

Now I understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back.

But the other four balls – family, health, friends, and spirit – are made of glass. Drop them, and they will never be the same.  

History

Historical fiction is to hang a story on a background of historical facts. Getting the historical facts right is one thing, and filling enough gaps of colour for readers to dive into is another.

When an author crafts the work like a memoir, we are led to time-travel. That's more or less what Eve J. Chung did in her debut novel Daughters of Shandong, a straightforward story written in the first-person style. Right at the beginning, I knew this is a fiction built from kitchen-table stories told by Chung's grandmother and interviewing her mom. But with time, page after riveting page, I was tangled up in the look-so-real story, mistaking the book as a memoir of Chung.

The profoundly brutal history of the Communist Revolution is best captured by the opening chapter's line: "The China I knew ached, and the hometown I knew bled." 

Thank goodness I didn't have to witness the narrator's trauma in real life. I can't imagine a thirteen-year-old girl being walked like a dog on a leash by the cadres. I can't imagine a little girl who spent hours kneeling on the ice, tied at the wrist, jabbed against her back by the butt of rifle. I can't imagine her carrying that land in her blood, in her bones, and in her memories. I can't believe Mao Zedong could have more followers than MrBeast. Who can?