The books of friends

Each special read will get its own page. Once I’ve read the book, I’ll write about it, have a kōrero with my nearest and dearest, stamp it (yes—I even bought a cute little embossing stamp), and then it’ll be shelved.

Here’s how it works:

• A friend tells me their life-changing book
• I track down a copy
• I read the book
• We kōrero
• I write about it here
• I stamp it
• My dearest writes a little note inside
• I shelve it

It becomes part of my story—a bookshelf full of friends and whānau.

A growing little library of love.

I can't recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn't immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I've literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can't anymore. I don't know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn