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The first word

Emotions

Translated

Flowing Ink

Strokes from Within

Book

Review

The First Word By Maryam Mirza | Editor Once while riding the bus from college I had the misfortune of sitting next to a Lecturer from my college. I was reading a book by Barbara Delinsky (don’t remember which one) and she asked me to show it to her. After turning and examining the book from all sides: Her: How do you read this? I: It’s actually quite simple. Her: No, I mean how do you read Popular Fiction? It is so basic. I: Umm… I enjoy it. Her: Well, I only read classics. I: Oh.. (I suck at making small talk) Her: You should read them too, they make you see life from a different angle. I: I do read classics. It’s just that I do light reading too. Her: Oho, I’m sure I know what classics you read. Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Or maybe Dickens if you want something heavy. (Dickens is heavy?)

Aspiring novelist, not-really-a-closet poet, and a blogger; Maryam is a freshman at Kinnaird College for Women, majoring in Media Studies. She is forever ‘adopting’ words that have been forgotten (current word: Traboccant, meaning superabundant). She hates being told that she should be studying Literature.

Those are books that I read in school. (well, so did I, but I’m too polite to mention) You should read Tolstoy and Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Read them already) I could lend them to you if you want. I: Oh thanks but when it comes to classics, I prefer Kafka and Dostoevsky. And Euripedes and Aristophanes when I want to read ‘Heavy’. That kept her quiet for the rest of the ride. Sweet satisfaction. Moral of the story: Never judge a person by the book he/she might be reading at a given moment And so with the third issue of Reality Romanticized, we bring to you another helping of quality writing and artwork, the creative flourishes of really talented young people. Dive right in and enjoy, it might look ‘light’ reading at a glance, but there are definite deeper undertones!

Emotions Translated

Missing Victory I question my choices and the air swiftly replies with a bullet into a familiarly young shell-shocked face I was the very model of good intentions but also the model of what was required Stick me up a billboard and give everyone a gun.. I was the hero for once And I still am Doing braver things than I ever thought I could ..So why does this feel wrong? Everybody knows that peace is worth death a million times over Everybody except for the one holding the gun and wishing that he would notice the contradiction I search for a friend, the silver lining, and I am slapped with distant khakhi splodges Useful only when things take a turn for the worse Identity dependent on the number of shell-shocked faces we have seen die Is this what I should have chosen? Maybe this is what I am meant for Without a doubt, this is honorable and everything good Just what I was taught to be

But then again, I am slapped with distant khakhi splodges on paper, written on by suited men in swivel chairs, while my nose drips from the smell of butchered bodies Maybe in my next life and in some other world war, I should relish this all once again and be tested by how many humans I can watch die before I give up Start my training, Only this time, no more searching for a victory that was never there in the first place I'll know my place as a human killing machine or perhaps not even that much- just a method for sorting out problems that will only start all over again Won't waste

12 By Ayesha Khalid

Untitled I was born to fill these spaces between your fingers. You And You *looks over their shoulders* Yeah, and all of You too. I was meant to turn your worlds upside down then ease out before you came to your senses because like Nanny McPhee, I can only stay as long as you need me. I'd just be in your way afterwards. I was born to help you live your dreams. To kick start them at least. To take away the White Rabbit's pocket watch. And give you over to the Mad Hatter. To help the Knave lock away the Red Queen of work thats terrorizing you. And- even if it’s just for a moment- relax. because, just like Alice You're just a little lost And you'll find you’re way out once I get rid of these idiots And because Right here right now, is just a blot in the poetry of time And right now, right here All that matters is getting you out of that gutter from where you gaze everyday to those stars and wonder if you’ll ever muster the courage to be like them. Right now my job is to shake up that perfect constellation. And to show you All their flaws and cracks Hold you both up in front of the mirror that’s been conveniently put up for this very purpose. And show you that yes, you’re pretty messed up too, but Baby, at least you’re not like them. That you’re better. Right now my job is to shake up that perfect constellation. And to show you All their flaws and cracks Hold you both up in front of the mirror that’s been conveniently put up for this very purpose.

And show you that yes, you’re pretty messed up too, but Baby, at least you’re not like them. That you’re better. Because that’s what friends do.

By Noor Rehman We fill up the cracks in each other’s Yellow brick lanes We ghost soothing fingers over each other’s wounds We dance at each other’s weddingseven when we don’t like each other’s grooms and our high heels really weren’t meant for this. And yes, I may be making a fool of myself shouting out my heart like this. And yeah, I am probably-definitely-going to get into trouble for sneaking all those chocolates out of the cafeteria (In my defense I paid for them) But you seriously can not expect me to go my own merry way When you’re sitting in the corridor , staring at the crack in the tiles with that “eat me now” expression you’ve got. So no, I will not come down, because these branches are pretty damn comfortable. and yes, this is going to keep on happening till you realize that I’m here for you. Or have you really forgotten that oath we signed so long ago. The one you have to read with a pair of Pink, Xray sunglasses. Because to the untrained eye, it’s just a piece of paper. And to those dogs that dragged you down , it means nothing. So yes, in accordance with article 9, subsection 42 a, I will be the Hermione in your life bushy haired and buck toothed and in your face Like Evan and Ethan. Pushing you and pushing you and pushing you. Until you scream “All right!” And get up and lunge at that thing you’ve been ignoring -poem or video or novel or painting or whatever it was, that’s irrelevantyou’ll get it done and say “see? I did it!” And then I’ll slip out to alert the Media (or Tumblrbots) Because there’s this really pleased expression on your face. And you need a moment to comprehend this amazing thing you just accomplished. So yeah Call me crazy, stupid, creepy, annoying, stalkerish, Whatever I’m your friend you idiot. And it comes with the position. Don’t understand?

Once Upon A Time By Neshmia Tahir

(http://www.ruminations-nt.blogspot.com/ )

Once upon a time, three words were enough; You couldn’t have asked for anything more. My love for you was something, Of which you were rigidly sure. In my eyes you saw your future My smile brightened your days like the sun – Each other’s company we desperately craved Separation we would shun. But alas! ‘Forever’ suddenly took on a new meaning When we encountered days bleak and dire. When uncertainties and doubts plagued us mercilessly And our friendship fell in the line of fire. Dark clouds loomed, the silver lining disappeared And all I felt was confusion and pain. For your absence felt like a warping of the world; And in company, even polite smiles I couldn’t feign. Perfection was what you and I had, And when perfection is tarnished it cuts deep. Agonizing emotions raged within me – The only escape was sleep. And in my slumbering dreams I saw: You and I under a sky so vast As we laughed and rejoiced and defeated time; Forever, that moment seemed to last.

Pop Ups By Mehreen Mujeeb away tree, The cresent moon behind the far Was smiling at another galaxy. es, The dark grey clouds had the blu veling a floral cruise. The sky in second place was tra sky, Just one star there was in that was high. But it did not smile although it ud, distant lightning in a distant clo th wi n pla me so ng tti plo s wa It y would stitch my shroud. Maybe scheming about how the adow of my mind, The sky is like a translucent sh to find. Only parts it shows with others , It's one thing to not feel or think at or sink. Another to not know if you'll flo At times when I try to ponder, I end up lost in wander. ke me sleep, So much sand in my eyes to ma dream too deep. The sand turns to mud when I Through these years I've grown In my own chest I fold.

so cold,

Captured in self-made fences, senses. Which constrict so many of my and my reflections, Trapped between my shadows these elections. Confiding in darkness to avoid

The sky is still beautiful.

I was always there Right by your side Whenever you needed me I was there to guide I wish you could have noticed what I did for you I wish you had loved me the way I love you Whenever you found yourself crying You came to me For I comforted you like a child Hugging you when the need be Those moments I knew were the closest, I would ever be to you I wish you could have said just once then “I love you” I waited & waited patiently Bearing all the pain For I knew there was nothing to lose Yet everything to gain If you had been in my position I don’t know what you would do But I was captivated by love, hurt yet strangely content too!

You started running away from me

Unnot

Ali Ha

As if I were snak But maybe that was u Or maybe it w

I still feel the fire insid I wish you would know w

The moments I Crying, Sobbing I was there wanting While you were ther

I am all vacant inside du yo I often cried on the outsid

I kept all my so A choice I It broke my hea But I wanted

I wish you would have re der The way you shared your

ticed

asan

ke who would bite unintentional from you was just spite

de that still requires you what I had to go through

I spent alone g and Weeping to tear myself apart re peacefully sleeping

ue to the emptiness left by ou de and inside I cried too

to do that too I wonder when I would be gone My presence would you ever miss Or would you cry every moment like me Devoid of any bliss The pain I felt everyday to that you have no clue I loved you like you were my everything but maybe it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t enough for you I am wounded so deeply That I have come to a place Where pain surrounds me so much That I am totally deprived of solace I may not mean so much as I am so far away from you But my love never diminishes; I will always love you true

orrows from you still defend art every second yours to mend

ealized I needed a shoultoo r pain with me, I wanted

21| Footprints in the Sand 23| My Subconscious Reality 27| 3rd time is the Charm 3 1| Jawab-eShikwa

Flowing Ink

"Dear Karen, you weren't jus the best part of my life. They Towers, now only one remai separated us and that i am le So i am leaving this place to be together again..."

She finished writing and cal tucking it inside a glass bott

st my sister, you were y called us the Twins ins. It is cruel that fate eft alone in this world. join you so that we can

lmly folded the paper tle and smiled.

Karen always taunted her on her knack of drama yet it was ironic that her own end was designed so dramatically. There was no solution to her anguish. The pain and guilt of her sister's death was pure agony. She could not live in a world where everyday memories of Karen tortured her conscience. No matter what the psychiatrist said, she knew things would only get worse. Her solution was quick-simple. The sea-gulls chirping in the distance and the sound of waves rushing upon the deserted shore was very soothing. The sun was patiently resting on the horizon and after weeks of a mental bedlam of emotions, she was at peace. Calm and quiet, just like the waves. She could now think about the car accident which led to the death of her beloved sister. The doctors immediately declared Karen as dead but she was saved to live a pitiful life. It was survivor's guilt, they said, but she knew better. It was pain. Pain, watching Karen's lifeless body being lowered in a coffin. Pain, seeing their parents devastated. Pain, receiving Karen's diploma on Graduation Day. Pain, living every second with the memories of the person that mattered most to her... No more, she thought. People may call her selfish but escaping the regret, sorrow and guilt was not being selfish. People could never understand the extent of helplessness that in itself was killing her. Inhaling, the salty scent of the sea, she got up and walked steadily towards the water. She had left the bottle in the sand. The cool water touched her feet and a shiver ran through her spine. She knew she could not swim but continued walking until she was waist deep in the water. A voice at the back of her head was shouting at her, begging her to reason--to return. Her heartbeat raced and arms trembled. Doubt and fear lingered in a corner of her mind. Just then the face of Karen visualized in front of her and her destiny was crystal clear. The girl plunged into the dark blue waters and all that remained were footprints in the sand...

My SUB By Ayesha Raees, our ambassador at LGS Paragon I reached out my hand and saw how it became a silhouette against the moonlight. Outstretched and open, against the sky… so far away from the stars. Though, from where I lay, it was still a part of the sky; a dark shadow, like how it wasn’t even supposed to be a part of my body anymore. It started aching and it was not until it was numb that I allowed it to fall down beside me and continued dreaming of the sky. Wide awake, I dreamt. “Do you think someone is watching you back?”

The voice thundered upon me but I knew it was only my madness. The mess of my mind had created a replica; a male form totally opposite of me. The teasing smirk, the cynical voice, the degrading commentstearing my eyes from the sky- I looked at him. Perched in a perfect posture, he gave me his full attention like I was the most important being in the whole universe, like what I did and what I said were worth knowing and mentioning. Maybe it was what my demented head wanted; to create a perfect being that would listen and absorb me.

“You are a fragment of my imagination. Go away,” He laughed. Loud. Clear. Harmonic. If he was real, his laugh would have woken up the neighbors in a start. But he was nothing… which was more painful than being a no-one. He smirked down at me and my ungraceful, grass covered rough lying form. I had been staring at the night sky for how long… I hadn’t a clue but it had become something like a hobby. When everyone slept, I crept out and looked at the eternal universe above my head. The moon and the stars… and everything else. “You always answer me like that,” He said to me, staring back, making me realize I have been staring at him ever since he had appeared. His hair was styled too flawlessly and his face had the perfect cut. He was worth staring at and even touching. Yet I knew better than anything else; he was just nothing but a fragment of my imagination and I absolutely didn’t want to think otherwise by making any contact. Physical especially.

“You don’t exist,” I was talking to myself. Dear myself, you don’t exist. “Of course I do,” he said in a weary factual voice, like he had gone though this conversation so many times before… maybe he had, “You created me,” “I am not God,” “But you are not like anyone else either,” His answer was so quick that I coward back. He was staring too hard at me. I knew my heart was racing and my hands were sweaty. I breathed out, wanting to look away but wasn’t able to. He saw my condition. Of course he could. He smirked again, this time it was devilish, with a glint in his eyes that outshone even more underneath the moonlight.

“You get scared of me too quickly My breath came out heavy but I w in it. “Of course. Who wouldn’t in my p His smirked vanished as though frown and I was right; he WAS of “Do you wish I was real?” “Are you stating you are not?” “You are my creator. The fact tha subconscious wanted me to be h “I am no-“ I was cut off as he reached towar was the first time something like only conversed but after three or ty, I would walk away and shut o ing him simply wither away… dis nothingness as it was supposed t but a fragment of my imagination like this. I retreated back in retaliation an arms to block his retreating figur light, my hands became silhouett hovered, real as a human’s and st tiful like some god’s, above me, a “Stay away!” His strong hand wrapped around strength I had never experienced above my head. His touch was re He was not a fragment of my ima could touch me. He could act bey control me.

He was above me now, on his elb me; showing me his humane gen a tease as his legs entangled with hovering anywhere he wanted to “Stop,” I was literally shaking wit for my innocent maiden heart an talking to him had made me feel bidden ride and now he was bein

y,” was able to find my voice

position?” he was offended. I saw his ffended.

at I am here means your here,”

rds me. I was startled. It e this had happened. We r four dialogues of insanioff myself completely, maksappear into air… like to be. He, being nothing n, was not supposed to act

nd in shock, throwing my re. Underneath the moontes again and his body trong, powerful and beauapproaching towards me.

d my wrists and with a d before, pined them eal. He was suddenly real. agination anymore. He yond my power. He could

bows so he won’t crush ntleness but there was still h mine. His other hand o touch. He could touch me. th fright. It was too much nd body. Just looking and as though I was on a forng intimate… his eyes star-

ing down on my face as though I was some princess he was not allowed to touch. “Accept me,” What is that even supposed to mean? “Wha-“ “Acceptance will make me real,” I stared at him back. He was demanding me to stop thinking sane. “You are not insane,” He read my mind. “It’s because you created me,” “Stop. Just stop. Get away from me,” I muttered my heart clenching. His legs shifted and I shivered. It was the night chill. Definitely the night chill. “You are different,” “Please…” His hand brushed against my cheek. No. It felt good… the caress was so gentle. Suddenly it relaxed me and I looked at the softness that his eyes suddenly held. Some sort of sadness as though it was reflected off me. “Ray,” His eyes shot open in surprise and his hand froze. The voice had come out of my lips without a warning. A name. I had given him a name. From outside, there was a dance of lights as a car passed, indicating the reality of things. It destroyed the silhouettes and shone in my eyes painfully. Squinting, I heard it go away and when I focused again, he was gone, leaving me behind underneath the early morning sky. Disappeared into the air… vanished. This time it was him that had walked away from me. In the washroom, as I washed off, I glanced at my wrists and my heart skipped a beat. Red and swallow they were indicating the promise of purple bruises that were going for last days to come. Stupid fragment of my imagination. … The moment I had given him a name… his eyes had not only shimmered with surprise but also with joy.

The cab driver screeched to a halt in front of the tall white building. ‘It will be 30 dollars madam.’ Emma jumped out of the car, held out the money distractedly and headed towards the building without waiting for the change. It looked as innocent as any other building but once she stepped over the threshold it seemed like stepping into hell. There was chaos, confusion, screams wails, tears and a huge sign saying ‘Welcome to Rosewood Hospital’. Taking a deep breath she walked slowly ahead, nodding to the receptionist who just gave her a sad smile and nodded as if to say that she understood. Emma couldn’t bring herself to smile so she just nodded and kept on walking further. ‘Emma!!’ she heard Doctor Reynolds behind her. She turned to meet him, her face still not giving away any emotion. ‘How are you?’, he asked. ‘Do we have to do this?’ she whispered ignoring his question. ‘Yes,’ he said nodding professionally ‘we have tried everything else.’ Taking a deep breath she nodded and turned away continuing her walk.

‘Remember. No later than 3 o’clock.’ He shouted behind her but she didn’t turn around.

time’s the rd charm By Hina Khurshid

As she closed the door behind her and took a chair beside the only bed in the room she could hold if the façade any longer and she burst into loud painful tears. For sometime she held her face in her hands and let the tears flow. ‘You know what Allie, they won’t listen to me’ she finally spoke, wiping away the tears and taking the hand of the woman lying on the bed in front of her. ‘That Reynolds, he says that you have no chance of living, that the accident completely destroyed you and he’s got to take you off that ventilator so that the bed could be given to another patient. I tried Allie I tried but he wouldn’t listen to me anymore…’ She burst into tears again and in those hazy tears her mind wandered to a scenario 35 years ago…. “I want three pencils or I can’t give this test.” The girl wailed to the teacher. ‘But you have to write with only one pencil Alison.’ The teacher sighed, clearly exasperated by the tirade that had been going on for 10 minutes now. A seven-year-old Emma watched from her seat. After sometime she got up walked over o the teacher desk and held out a pencil to Alison. ‘Here take one of mine. I have two.’ The teacher and Alison both beamed ant her. The teacher sighed with relief while Alison jumped up and down and exclaimed ‘Thank you so so much. I’ll return it I promise.’ Emma was on the swings when Alison came running to her and held out her pencil. ‘Thanks, you saved my life!’ she beamed. ‘Your life?’ Emma laughed, ‘It was just a pencil!’ ‘Yes but it saved my life. You see if I didn’t have three pencils during the test I would’ve failed it’ ‘But you wrote with only one.’ Emma was confused now. ‘They weren’t all for writing, they were for luck’ seeing Emma’s confused face Alison explained further ‘You see my granny was a psychic and before dying she told me that three’s my lucky number. Everyone makes their own luck and if I do everything in threes I’ll always be lucky.’ She finished with a grin. Emma’s expression changed from one of confusion to one of utter disbelief. That was the day Alison and Emma became best friends. It wasn’t the kind of friendship that stared in Kindergarten, strengthened in Middle School and ended by the time they reached High school and indulged in different activities. No, it was the kind of friendship that started in Kindergarten, strengthened in Middle School, became unbreakable b the time of college and continued to this day. As Emma stared at Alison her eyes wandered to her ears and her mind wandered down the memory lane once again. They were in 8TH Grade. Emma was studying at home one Saturday morning when Alison burst into the room.

‘Look what I got!’ she exclaimed jumping and pointing to her ears. ‘Three piercings Allie?’ Emma screamed as she jumped off her bed and stared at her. ‘Whaaaaat?’ Allie wailed ‘I couldn’t just get one and become unlucky could I? What if I got hit by a car on the way over? What would you have done then?’ She finished and gave Emma her beseeching look which said ‘Please come and get three piercings too so that my mom doesn’t scold me!’ ‘You’re sick.’ Was all Emma said as she followed Alison out of the room to get her ears pierced too! Alison’s obsession with ‘three’ had never ended. She had had three bracelets on her wrists at all times, three favorite pair of shoes, she even had three kids. Why not three best friends huh?’ Emma had teased her one day. ‘That’s where I’m ready to take the risk.’ Alison had said and they had instantly hugged knowing that nothing could ever separate them. And nothing ever did, except for that wretched car accident two weeks ago. Alison had been driving home from work and a huge out of control truck had hit her car. Her ribs were broken and lungs badly damaged. She had been on ventilator for two weeks and now the doctor wanted to take it off. He believed that there was no hope for her and instead of fooling ourselves we should just let her die a peaceful death. She had tried to prolong this day as long as possible but she had to give in at the end. Emma looked at the clock. It was almost three. Just five minutes to go. ‘Hey Allie,’ she whispered, “Remember how we used to tell each other each and every single thing? How we decided that no secrets would ever come between us? Well there was this one time when I lied to you. Remember in 5th grade when you couldn’t find your favorite rubber? Well I took it to hide it and tease you but then I lost it. I was so afraid that you’d be mad at me that I lied and said that I hadn’t seen it. I’m sorry Allie. Please don’t go.’ She cried, her grip on the hand becoming stronger. She wanted time to stop so that Allie would never leave her. She raised her head when she saw Doctor Reynolds entering the room. ‘Emma...’ he began but then he stopped and turned his face away, not being able to face the accusing eyes looking at him. ‘We have to do it now.’ He said after a while as the clock struck three. He slowly moved his hand towards the ventilator. ‘Stop!’ Emma shouted ‘let her take three last breaths.’ Dr Reynolds waited silently and after three breathes switched off the ventilator. Emma closed her eyes in pain as Alison’s chest stopped moving in rhythm with her breathing.

The writer would like to offer her apologies. She can never, never hope to achieve what the Allama Iqbal did with his “Shikwa” and “Jawab e Shikwa”. But she feels that the people of our times have once again reached that point where they need a shock to their systems- perhaps a long hard look in the mirror- to realize that the ones truly at fault are not the political leaders, but ourselves. “Jawab e Shikwa this is not… But it’s her take on it. In fact, she’s not even sure what this is. As often happens with pieces of literature, the writer writes… and leaves it to the reader to dissect, analyze (read: rip apart in an attempt to “read between the lines”) and disembowel (does that make sense?) the literary efforts of the poor writer.

There she stands in the rain Eyes closed to the world and its pain There she is on her own In a crowded place all alone

And I wonder if she knows about how they w jeer

If she notices their pointing fingers and their Then I wonder- does she even care?

Because she’s a light in the darkness in her c dress.

In the downpour, she’s a beacon shining brig

She’s stronger the hurricanes, burning brigh

She’s the last of Nature’s children taking her gun. There, I found him; there he stands, The greenest oasis in the sands Like the sun-he’s not the brightest star But you couldn’t tell from how he shines Like a dreamer, he walks a fine line

And I wonder if he notices the Philistines an

If he sees the barbs strewn on the cluttered p way through it

And then I wonder, should I tell him about it – at all? Because he’s blessed shade in the blinding light slaying dragons with his pen In this drought, he’s a Godsend; he’s the fleeting summer rain. He’s fiercer than the blizzards, warmer than that blazing sun.

whisper and they

r stares

clashing colored

He’s the last of Nature’s children taking his stand against the gun. They’re the faces in the mirror. They’re the children you used to be. They’re the heroes you planned on beingThat’d bring down Man’s greatest enemies.

ghter than the rest.

They’re still there waiting, hands outstretched-

hter than the sun

But will you take the chance to run?

r stand against the

nd Hypocrites

They’re God’s greatest gift to man. They’re taking down the gun. For a moment, God is silent. And then God answers. And God replies: “I did do something. I made YOU” Just a thought.

path as he makes his

Strokes from within My name is Fahad Hussain I born in Karachi in 1995. I am currently studying in Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Levels in The City School Boys Campus Gulshan-e-Iqbal in the efforts to obtain my higher studies in Civil Engineering. I am considering major in this subject because I have always been interested in creative work by making drawings, paintings and sketches. I am actively participating in extracurricular activities of school. I was the President of Art Academy and Deputy Head Boy in 2010. I am also elected as Head Boy for year 2011. Painting, Sketching and Music is my hobbies. I love to sing and play guitar in spare time.

Photograph by Mashal

Hasan

Featuring

Sculptures

Haris Khan Born in August,1987, Haris Khan is an Electrical Engineer, Lead Guitarist, a Painter, a Sculptor, and a Poet.

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BI' yy , .

4 out of 5 star

Eighteen per one time been

The title of th has much to with the girl w mentioned on The mysterie wrapped up, few things I m picked it up a

1. I thought it dragon tattoo above. 2. That it was young adult. least, there a

So, the begi The narration into. After a f

The Story.. So, Mikael Bl out a mystery girl. With com rounding this tery. What co surprise to m you too.

The charac Mikael. A fin fallen, and so involved in th

rcent of the women in Sweden have at n threatened by a man.

his book is quite misleading. This book do with a girl - but not quite much to do who has the dragon tattoo. The tattoo is nce, I believe, and the topic is let alone. es of this book are not completely and so there are sequels. There were a misunderstood about this book when I and I'd like to clear those up:

the chronicles of the Vanger family, and (the real objective) to find out what happened to Harriet Vanger in 1966 when she disappeared. Not much to say about him, he wasn't a bore or incredibly exciting to read about...he was okay. Salandar. Lisbeth Salandar. The girl with the dragon tattoo. She's a mystery on her own until the end, hence the sequels I believe. Annoying at times, but mostly just full of secrets waiting to be revealed in the next book...

The mystery... The mystery was...actually a mystery. It keeps you in t'd have much to do with the girl with the suspense until the very end, and the things revealed o (Salandar, her name is.), as I said are quite a surprise.

s Young-Adult. Trust me, this is NOT I'd suggest this for you if you're 16+ at are some very disturbing visuals in this.

The Name and the Main Topic... The original name of this book was supposed to be M채n som hatar kvinnor (Men Who Hate Women) which is a MUCH more fitting title, in my opininning... ion. Sad to say that the insane treatment of women n in the beginning was quite hard to get that happened in this novel does occur in real life, few chapters, the story picks up though. still. Rape is still a big issue. I know of a girl who got raped a few years ago, and she reported it. Yet, no ac. tion was taken much to my dismay. At times, society lomkvist is a journalist. He's hired to find and culture are still male dominant. And it's very tryy. A 36 year old mystery about a missing ing for women then. mplications and other mysteries surs, he tries to work out this historical mys- Low Points omes out of this mystery comes out as a The narration gets tedious at times. And the characmany, and I'm sure it'll be a surprise to ters are kind of sex-starved. Hence the 4 stars.

cters... nancial journalist whose reputation has o he takes the offer he's given (big bucks hat as well) to write a book containing

Overall, a great mystery though. Much recommended to fans of mystery. Getting through the first part is hard, but the rest is a breeze.

g n li

b a n

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