There are some books that provide you entertainment,some that provide you food for thought but there are books that provide you both, while making you curse yourself for not having such an extraordinary book much earlier. The Name of the Rose, or rather, in its true form, Il Nomma della Rosa, by Umberto Eco, is such an underrated classic. It is written in Italian, but the translated work is excellent. You may even call Umberto Eco, the author, as an inspiration to Dan Brown.  It serves as a veiled paradigm to authors such as Brown and Ashwin Sanghi, who thrive under the genre of semiotics. The story follows William of Baskerville through the eyes of young Adso of Melk, as they visit a monastery in Italy to investigate the death of a young monk. William is depicted as a medieval Sherlock Holmes, for the story is set in the 1300s , and it is clear that Eco has based his protagonist after Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's most famous character. Adso of Melk serves as William's Watson, and the book follows the thought process of those times, which are unorthodox to say the least, and sometimes operates on a such a high level of spirituality, religion, which when combined with the language that Eco uses, masterfully capture the reader's imagination. After some time some of the interest that the book set by its fast pace may wane off, as the speed decreases substantially as the novel progresses, as both William and Adso learn several things about philosophy, spirituality, and religion. This is a classic, but not for those who seek Arnold Schwarzenegger style entertainment in books

These days, English TV shows are gaining more and more popularity. I have a shrewd suspicion that I have started this blog a little too bluntly, but the shift is subtle, yet can be felt. I don't whether to be happy, or to feel unfortunate to have been part of the same wave. But it is happening, and for now, my decision seems good. The fact with these shows are that they seem so different from each other. I am a huge fan of Sherlock, the Jeremy Brett one, as evident from one of my earlier posts. And in the same post, I also professed my liking for his modern day successor, Benedict Cumberbatch. His acting prowess are out of this world and he seems to bask under the pressures surmounted over him, for he is playing one of the greatest literary characters of all time. Not to mention the high standards set by his predecessor, Jeremy Brett. Martin Freeman also oozes class while playing Watson. Perhaps the best actor to play the doctor. There is something so sophisticated, no, not sophisticated, but a polished air  about the show. An excellent TV show, with actors who make you watch them again and again. Another show worth watching is Psych. James Roday is the fake psychic Shawn, who along with his friend, Gus, played by an effective Dule Hill, help solve crimes in the Santa Barbara district. The show is comical, nonsensical, but it is difficult not to love it. Juliet and Lassiter act as an encouraging supporting cast, and it is probably the best comedy TV show I have seen till now after Friends. These two shows are worth your time. People may have heard of Sherlock, but Psych is just as brilliant. Hats off.

Well, after, I think, a month's hiatus, which saw me ride the waves of Class XI while doing the juggling act of meeting the expectations of over expectant relatives and the ravings of under expectant friends, I can finally dedicate some time again to my blog. First of all, congratulations to Manchester United for qualifying for the Champions League. Yes, a playoff may still be under the wings, but Louis van Gaal has the talent, the quality, to become the wind under these wings, to take the club back to its soaring heights. And, hearty welcome to Memphis Depay to the club. What a talent. If he continues in the same vein, he will become a legend in no time. And, since we are on the topic, wishes to Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard and Didier Drogba, rivals though they were, but they were Premier League legends and deserve a standing ovation.

Even though these are the summer holidays, for Class XI students such things are almost non existent. So when my mother expressed her surprise when I told her that I had read the latest Anthony Horowitz novel, House of Silk, it was justified. But then, these books are to me what money is to a pauper, though my mother was hardly pacified. It is another story.

The House of Silk, in its complete form, is a very good book. Anthony Horowitz has tried to bring back the magic of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, by recreating his most famous protagonist, The Great Detective, or for  people who have just woken up, Sherlock Holmes. Undoubtedly, a tough task. And he has done appreciably well. At first, and this is my thinking, I thought that some of the reasons Holmes gave for his deductions, were a little far fetched, but I don't think this weighs against Horowitz's cause. This man must be praised for trying. He even had the courage to bring back some of the older characters which I found interesting. It was during the climax, or rather, it was the climax that I found a little too cold, a little horrifying. But then, this is Holmes. This is Horowitz. A must read,even if you are not a Holmes fan.