Maybe I've became cynical... I noticed I can't enjoy those philosophical full-of-meaning yet so straightforward kind of book anymore. Once upon a time I've loved Coelho's The Alchemist. I found it so profound and it enriched my life to the point of overflowing. Now I cringe each time I read deep-meaningful sentences. I run away from books that were marketed as insightful, life changing, etc. I bought Laskar Pelangi series for my mother and refused to touch it despite her being wax poetic about it. I'm afraid to re-read Seno's short stories collection that used to be my anchor in life, afraid of ruining what it meant for me.The thing is... I suppose all those books are so keen on being sincere and earnest I can't trust it anymore. They practically spelled out their belief on good way of living your life as if me as a reader is incapable of reading between the lines; incapable of learning from something bad as much as from something good. Perhaps I found that a bit insulting as well. What about being subtle? What about letting me find out what I want to learn from it by myself? What about crediting me with some brain? I never did like being lectured or reading books with an obvious lesson in it.Hector... was ok I suppose. I read it at a wrong time. I should've read it years ago when I saw it first filling bookstore's and library's shelves in Germany. When I still liked to read Jostein Gaarder. Not to say that this book is completely bad. The list itself is fairly valid for me. It's just wrapping story that sucks so bad. You know what, if he had published only the list in coffe table format with some wonderful illustration, I might've enjoyed it more. As it is, I needed to force myself to read through it just because I'm so near the end and the book is so thin I don't think I can forgive myself to abandon it.Goodbye Hector, don't expect to meet me again. Perhaps I'll continue reading the book on history of marriage which feels so dry yet authorative. Give me some statistic or technical elaboration. Give me acidic words, burnt bridges; I'm swearing off cotton candy for a while. Give me some Greene; Greene is always good; Greene is a nice piece of medium raw steak. Btw, had I known being a psychiater meant having the capability to talk yourself out of brigand's clutch or to make friends with practically everyone or made yourself being loved by all women you met, I'd have chosen your career long time ago. Tough luck for me!