Wordy Eloquence

The Big Bad Wolf book sale is in town again and, in what is turning out to be an annual ritual, there I was with the whole family in tow.

South City Plaza was the chosen venue this year, and unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to find as it seemed on the internet-sourced map.

All that matters was that we managed to get there plus a few cousins of the young ones.

As usual, there were like a billion books in the somewhat claustrophobic hall. Once we have left the children in their section, my wife and I proceeded on our own search for books.

Alas, there weren’t that many which really said “Pick me up” for me. Being such an old timer, I was looking very much for the seasoned, tattered cover novels of old, and what BBW has plenty was the newer ones.

There were still plenty for those really willing to go through one title to the other.

I was practically skimming through only the hard covers, and picking out those which featured pleasantly-designed overleaf before reading the summary at the back page.

And the sum result of the long exercise – two books. A fantasy and another on the (US) comics industry.

Alas, as usual, comics remain the elusive category which BBW is lacking on. There were some Manga titles, but not that many.

I discovered some old-style, illustrated, “Tales from the Crypt” over at the children side and managed to read quite a bit whilst doing the book – search.

(Ironically, the same is also an aspect covered in the book on the comics industry I bought. Haven’t gotten round to reading it yet, though.)

A question bugged me later on: Where exactly am I as a reader? Am I someone concerned with storylines? Do I look more for wordsmith artistry? Or was I somewhere in between?

The more I thought about this, the more convinced I was of falling in the second category.

Sure enough, there are stories which I read and re-read until the pages required extensive re-glueing and patching up, but there were clear signs that there were also stories where the words attracted me more than the story.

Sure tells a whole lot about the person, doesn’t it?

I was hooked by the fantasy after reading the summary exactly because of the elegance in its prose.

Suddenly, the crowd was no longer there. There was only me and the words for the briefest of moments.

Preceding events meant that reading the whole book would have to wait.

I will discover then if the pages within fulfill the promise reflected without.

I’m hoping it’ll be a good journey but you just never know.

PS: The eldest cousin of my children bought two copies of “Tales of the Crypt.” Will wonders never cease.

Non Secret Woes

RM341.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the price tag; one that I could never stretch my budget for.

Wednesday provided an enjoyable hiatus from work and visit to a favorite bookshop courtesy of a work-related meeting with a former college-mate.

There it was, slotted next to a host of Marvel Omnibus (whatever that means) series: Secret Wars by Jim Shooter and Mike Zeck and immediately, my heart skipped a beat.

Alas, for the second time this year, I have had to forgo wishes in deference to stark economic realities.

RM341 is a whole month’s groceries and more.

It’s a sum that could easily cover the petrol and toll bill, with extras for breakfast and lunch.

A figure that would buy me the full set of Geoff Jones’ highly acclaimed “Blackest Night” with extras for, perhaps, a Burger King set meal and the parking fee.

Yet, my fingers felt leaden when it came to re-slotting the phonebook–thick miniseries into its place in the rack.

Instantly I wished I was in Singapore, or back in the UK which would reduce substantially the cost of adding such a classic to my collection.

(Of course this is based on the proviso that I am earning in SGD and Sterling, that is.)

I never did manage to get a single issue of Secret Wars as the mini-series came out when I was still relatively wet behind the ears and pretty much (ahem!) penniless.

(Scrolled Amazon and saw the same being retailed at USD70 (around RM230 at current conversion).

Still way too expensive to make sense, unless, that is, you’re an American buyer. Wonder of anyone of my friend’s going to the US… Hmmm…)

I took stock at my wallet-situation and decided instead on the reprinted copies of Marvel 1602 (Neil Gaiman and Andy Kubert) and Arkham Asylum (Grant Morrison and Dave McKean).

There was also Kabuki (David Mack), the aforementioned GJ’s Blackest Night’s series, parts 1 and 2 of Old Man Logan (Mark Millar and Steve McNiven), the New Krypton (GJ, again!)... the list goes on and on…

Next occasion considerations.

Yep. It’s been a while since I hung around the aisle of Kinokuniya’s comics’ section.

Perhaps the next visit will see even a paperback compendium of Secret Wars?

That'd be nice.

Serene Moments

Something a colleague said just on visiting the graves of loved ones cuts straight into my heart.

I felt a tinge of sadness and a great relief at the same as I have always been fearful of being too bloody cold hearted.

There have been quite a few deaths in my life and through most of them; I do seemed to breeze pass with minimal emotional showing.

So the sharp twang in realizing that it has been a while since I last visited my grandparents graves is a MAJOR thing for me.

It used to be a routine for me to drop by the Alor Merah mosque muslims burial grounds to offer my prayers to both of them.

I know some thinks that its bidaah to do so and that the offering of prayers to those who’ve passed away can be done anytime, anywhere, but it does evokes a different kind of feeling.

One of serenity, in fact.

Unfortunately, it’s been years since the last visit.

Often, we conveniently blame the lack of time in bypassing things which we rate as peripheral to our lives, and usually, life has a way of turning this around to bite you when you least expect it.

A few days ago, a close relative and childhood friend of my better half passed away. She was cancer stricken and had spent her last days at the Sungai Petani hospital.

Her death hit my wife quite badly, as she had talked about her, thought about her but never got round to actually visiting her.

It hit me hard even when I typed those words above.

Mike and The Mechanics’ “The Living Years” hummed in my mind.

I supposed it is normal to wish (pray?) for at least a closed one to be with us in out final moments.

The last thing we’d want is to pass this mortal coil with bitterness in our minds.

Or worse.

This part is a small obituaric afterthought to hate-mongering assholes.

Marina is correct. It has been a particularly fractious Ramadhan.

Seems to be that it’s bye-bye restraint for some quarters, with acts ranging from name-callings to downright warmongering.

What gives, hombres? Not enough sugar ka?

If only we can shut out these nincompoops and their horrendous babblings, eh, and the world may just be a better place for the rest of us.