I have just finished 2 ebooks by Atul Gawande, an American surgeon who wrote memoirs in his spare time. He had this writing style that gives one the impression of Malcolm-Gladwell-in-a-white-coat. “Complications” and “Better” were interesting and very relate-able to one working in the “healing profession”. Gawande was living and describing the US healthcare system which my country borrowed, warts and all.
Next on my reading list is Sandeep Jauhar, still yet another American with Indian roots struggling to live the medical dream. I’m curious about his effort at describing the life of an, “Intern”; and I am anxious to know if he found that year of medical training to be as horrible as I did. He also wrote “Doctored: The Disillusionment of an American Physician.”
Hmmm … if he is disillusioned, then I wonder what Chinese doctors in China must feel.
I hope to find some of his books in Powerbooks or National Bookstore. Ebooks are ok and I love my Kindle … but there is just … something about the smell of paper and the weight of a paperback that does it for me. Maybe it’s a fetish.
When I was eight, my greatest dream was to live near a bookstore. I realize now how terribly lacking in ambition I was at 8 (still am, actually). If I were more ambitious, I would have dreamed of owning a bookstore … or a bookstore chain … better yet, I should have dreamed of owning a publishing company … or owning Google!
But then, my idea of heaven was to be surrounded by stories and ideas and pictures … and to have the time and energy to absorb them all. I love that the Internet had been invented (again, thank you Tim Berners-Lee, for making the WorldWideWeb possible). It’s like having a library without the shelves.
But still … there is something about the smell of books …
I used to see a lot of National Geographic magazines in Booksale. Not anymore. Is it because they have gone mainly digital? In any case, this is a picture in Nat Geo of an Afghan girl in 1985 and then 17 years later in 2002. Before and after the fall of the Berlin Wall. In 1985, her face was sad, beautiful and haunting. In 2002, she looked, sad, older, angry and tired.
She hardly knows how to read.