finally got down to reading something. saw someone reading this thingy, couldn't resist. didn't recognise the author of virgin suicides, whocares. 2003 Putlizer Prize for fiction.
about this person who's born apparently female, but filled with male hormones inside.

how's the book?, long. first 1/2 or 3/4 is filled with the history and tales of the grandparents' lives, the parents' lives. whatever the heck for. maybe the author finds this gene lineage thing very fascinating. so many people just can't grow up with all this obsession over the magic of genes and DNA. so it's powerful, and incredible how much our genes determine and how they 'function', but it is like a poem which contains so few words:
1)it says more than it writes;
2)there are complex interwoven patterns;
3)there are seeming regularities which are not regularities and vice versa;
4)there are more and more meanings and themes and undertones than the one u're currently discovering;
5)you never know if you've interpreted it fully. people out there are like marvelling that it rhymes! dah!

at least the book's away from the seeming overflow of stories about love in India, poverty in India, twisted souls in India, China, and other exotic countries, about twisted love stories, about old egyptian hieroglyphs and curses. but still, serious fiction is better than common fiction(mystery, detective, thriller, romance), at least there's a greater range of stories.