I remember exactly the first time I ever read C. S. Lewis' fourth installment of the Narnia chronicles: I was off to spend a long weekend with the family in Tanay, Rizal, a place, although quiant, did, at the time, only had electricity and basic indoor plumbing to add to its (extremely short) list of luxuries. The place did have, however, a hammock slung between two trees of star apples. And I remember spending most of my time on there, reading (as much as the light and the mosquitoes allowed me to). In a peculiar kind of way it took…