Hello there. Well, okay, I admit, the title of this post makes no sense whatsoever. But what can I say? I like playing with words. Hehe. And besides, it kind of has a ring to it.
Anyway, I did have encounters of a closer kind with books recently as Deric, my parents and I made a happy trip to The Big Bad Wolf Sale late last night.
As usual, it was fantastic, with piles and piles of crazy cheap books to dig into and salvage from. But what made this year’s sale even better than before was that now it was open 24 hours and had a theme of its own which was a pirate one. Arrr.
What you see before you in the above picture cost somewhere around RM100, with the exception of one thick book on the subject of (feminine) beauty advice which I somehow accidentally left out (fiction over non-fiction any day, as far as I’m concerned hehe).
So yeah, I’m rekindling my love for reading. It’s amazing how my reading habits have been on an alarming rate of decline ever since I’ve started taking on a job as a journo. And that is not a good thing.
Notice too, the presence of certain types of books in my pile of newly acquired treasure.
There’s a solitary BM (Bahasa Malaysia ie Malay language) book in that selection, as I told myself I need to cultivate a greater love for the national language (especially since I do need to use it while on the job).
There are also THREE classics in there, which is my attempt to appreciate some of the finer literary works of times past which I somehow neglected to read in my younger days for some reason or another.
A book featuring a collection of poetry is also present there. I have not written much poetry in the longest time, and it’s a habit that I do not want to give up. But I feel I lack inspiration and ideas for how to write poetry differently, so why not learn from the masters by reading some of their works?
There are two recurring names in this stack of books: Dean Koontz and Terry Pratchett. I am a huge fan of Dean Koontz (have loved just about every single book of his that I’ve ever read) and the works of Terry Pratchett were introduced to me by a fellow friend and writer, Anna Tan. I’ve only ever read his Going Postal book but I did enjoy it, especially his style of dry humour that he deftly brings to live in the pages of his stories.
Henning Mankell is also here, and I would have loved to buy more of his (I presume it’s a he?) books if only I could afford to do so at this tempting sale (a writer still has to eat normal food, besides maintaining standard diet of devouring books).
Dinner time has arrived, and my poor husband is labouring alone in the kitchen, so I must take my leave now. But I do hope to stick my nose into a book later. This holiday would not be complete without some time devoted to doing so.