I’m linking up with Jamie’s annual end of year bookish survey again this year.
I spent 11 months of this year without internet, so I’ve hardly reviewed any books, and posted about books rarely too. I also haven’t read much this year. It’s been a tough one. Jamie has a lot of questions, and I don’t have answers to them all, so I’ve actually left some of them out.
When I was asked by Figure 1 which one piece of medical equipment I valued above all others, I said “my hearing”. We were taught from the very beginning that a good history was our first step to an accurate diagnosis, and I have always valued a physician who LISTENS: to their patients, their students, their allies, and their contemporaries.
Remember the game we always played? – “If you had to lose one sense, which would it be?”
I thought of my dad, who is blind: when he applied to do an honours degree in Psychology, his application was denied based on the fact that he would not be able to see his client’s faces (ridiculous, really. That was nearly 30 years ago). It had me thinking: what about a blind physician? We have many blind physiotherapists, but surely doctors must SEE… a quick Google search proved me wrong.
I have been wanting to write you. I wanted to give you a “list of things to do” to survive your Hell Week, but time got the better of me and thankfully so, because trying to reduce your finals to a list of survival tips is a slap in the face of the hard work you have done, and will still do.
Last year’s Vascular Surgery rotation gave rise to a lot of horror stories and concurrent lessons in medicine for me. I will never forget that week. It was my last week of taking PEP, so I was feeling gross already. The last Friday of the rotation was Valentine’s Day and by then, we were a miserable bunch of students (our superiors were miserable all week long).
London, 1905: The city is alight with change, and the Stephen siblings are at the forefront. Vanessa, Virginia, Thoby, and Adrian are leaving behind their childhood home and taking a house in the leafy heart of avant-garde Bloomsbury. There they bring together a glittering circle of bright, outrageous artistic friends who will grow into legend and come to be known as the Bloomsbury Group. And at the center of this charmed circle are the devoted, gifted sisters: Vanessa, the painter, and Virginia, the writer.
Historical fiction tends to be hit or miss for me. I love history and I have lists of favourite historical fiction novels (and not-so-fictional ones too). Still, I often DNF historical fiction simply because it is on a completely different wavelength. It’s just such a niche genre that they often miss me completely. Continue reading “Book Review: Vanessa and her Sister by Priya Parmar”→
I’m waiting on exam results (nail-biting!) but I remain surprised and grateful that I actually survived TWO hell-weeks this year. Our exams don’t only assess our competence as future doctors, but also our nerves. They are an emotional game, pushing us to our limits in the span of a week. I mean, they won’t admit it, but that’s pretty much what happens.
When you’re studying and it feels like you will never know it all, this helps:
Today with Top Ten Tuesdays we discuss books that were hard to read, for whatever the reason. I also just want to add that I suggested this topic so yay! But admittedly, BookRiot did it first. Heh. Anyway. I’m focusing on books that were hard to read due to subject matter, not due to style or difficulty grading.
This book, set in South Africa, follows two seemingly different young women: one wealthy, new money, removed from her culture and floating along, wondering about her roots; the other working herself out of poverty, doing her best to rid her of the dregs of her culture. This book was hard to read for me because I have friends like both these girls, and I realise that there is so much in their cultures that I can never try to understand, and I was unsure what I could DO. It is a beautiful book, though.
I have a reading idiosyncrazy idiosyncrasy. When some readers really enjoy a book, they tend to devour everything by that author. Me? I STAY AWAY. It hasn’t always been like this – the reason I have read tons of Jodi Picoult and Karen Kingsbury. I think it started in university when I realised I don’t have time to read everything I want to read. So now, when I have read a book that I absolutely adored, I actually willfully stay away from reading another work by the same author. I think partially it is because I don’t want to ruin my experience, but also partially because I want to read as many different voices as possible, and not restrict myself.
In Detroit, violent death – along with foreclosure and despair – is a regular occurrence. But the part-human, part-animal corpses that have started appearing are more disturbing than anything Detective Gabriella Versado has ever seen[…]
[…]Broken Monsters lays bare the decaying corpse of the American Dream, and asks what we’d be prepared to do for fifteen minutes of fame, especially in an online world.