Op Shop Mini Haul

I went with my friend to the College of Fine Arts annual exhibition today. Made me even more excited about going there to study design next year. I will post up pictures from there later. 

We also went op shopping afterwards and ended up buying these red wine Gap trousers which is way too long for me because I'm a shorty pants. It will look good folded up which will be perfect for summer. I also purchased a copy of Jane Eyre and Oscar Wilde Plays. They're both so battered (which means they were well-loved) and the pages are yellow and have that lovely old book smell. 

“In a second-hand bookshop head to the back, find the old books with dust undisturbed and woren off covers for these cloth true treasures.”

- Rachel Hall

Image is owned by me and cannot be reused without permission or crediting the original source.

Norwegian Wood and marginalia

Reading as a little boy I always wondered why there were blank pages at the end of books. Wikipedia offers us a technical explanation. Those blank pages are a result from the convention of printing books in large sheets of paper and therefore sometimes one or several pages are left intentionally devoid of content at the end. 

When I was ten years old however, I concluded that those pages were meant to be written on for the reader. Sometimes I would write alternate endings for books. For someone like me who was left utterly depressed by the endings of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, I found joy in writing a happier conclusion for the Baudelaire triplets. 

Or I would play pretend-critic and wrote what I thought about the book or noted down chapters and pages that I know I would want to revisit later on. 

Now I've moved away from writing solely on the end pages and now habitually write on the margins of all pages in the book, underlining quotes, writing of-the-moment reactions (usually immature) or just thoughts inspired by the writing. 

It made reading an active experience which is an essential part of this pastime. This is important especially for younger generations who are used to media acting as interactive spaces for them. 

I found this act particularly useful when I read Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood. A deeply saddening story about damaged, fragile minds. I found myself angered, depressed, amused and frustrated and writing about my thoughts was completely liberating. His writings are so beautiful that so many passages bore the underlines signifying their amazingness.  Murakami writes in a way that even the descriptions of the most banal object, character or setting can instigate a cleansing weeping session in one's room. It's like his words are stained with melancholy.

He is also quite blunt. He declares a character's death as if he was proclaiming the day's weather. The first sentence of the last chapter was written so plainly I had to re-read it several times to grasp what it actually meant despite its simple statement. A combination of shock and mournfulness swallowed me and I had to close the book to give me time to breathe. It was the first sentence of that chapter.

The characters are colourful, dark or just plain bizarre and they go in and out like ghosts. Once you start reading about one you end up forgetting about the others until you are jolted back to them.

Murakami is also a master of time. The narrative would weave the past, the present and the near future so seamlessly. It feels tightly constructed without being too antiseptic. 

If you have ever been interested in human beings and their minds and feelings, then please don't neglect reading this. 

All images are owned by me and cannot be reused without permission or crediting the original source.

Bookish Fashion and George Orwell

I blogged about Out of Print here before. They're an online shop that sell T-shirts and sweaters designed with iconic book covers. I was meant to get the Moby Dick one but, alas, they were out of stock of that particular style and it was already discontinued. 

They sent me George Orwell's 1984 fleece instead. I haven't read the book but I downloaded the e-book to my iPad when I received the fleece, just so I wouldn't look silly if people ask me if I have read the book I'm wearing.

I've never really had any urge to read this book but after the first chapter I was hooked. I don't know if it's because I'm a pessimist but I've always been drawn to dystopian fiction. Both The Giver and The Road are two of my favourite books of all time and I think I'm about to add 1984 to that list.

In one of the earlier chapters in the book, our protagonist starts to write in this blank journal he found in a store with a good, old-fashioned pen. In this futuristic world both items seem to exist as relics. He writes a banal entry but discovers that the act of writing, of putting thoughts into paper, is gratifyingly liberating. I can't help but look back when I was younger and identify with this particular sentiment. I felt (and still feel) exactly the same way every time I write.

Enough of the book rant. Let's talk about this unabashedly nerdy sweater. The fabric is so soft and cosy it's the kind of thing I would wear when I want to snuggle up and read a good book. I love the colour and according to the company's Facebook page, they're releasing new styles very soon, so I'm definitely going to get some more.

All images are owned by me and cannot be reused without permission

Read Forever

This makes me want to make myself a cup of hot cocoa and snuggle with a book (or my iPad).

I don't like the assumption that e-readers are killing off physical books. Unless someone discovers that paper is poisonous and are a danger to our health, books are never going to go away. Sure, we may buy less hard copies of books if we opt to purchase a digital copy instead but I don't see anything wrong with that. I'm sure there's enough room for all formats. I can already hear the trees breathe a sigh of relief. Think of the paper we save!

After purchasing my iPad and using it to read books I've actually found myself purchasing more physical books because the iPad has instilled inside me this intense hunger for reading. Now I can call myself a voracious reader - I've always wanted to say that!

Currently reading at the moment:

A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro

Safe Haven by Nicholas Sparks

Various university textbooks and academic readings.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling

Okay, this is going to be a personal post. 

I freaking love Harry Potter.

I was that 11 year old who checked the mailbox several times a day to see if I received a letter to attend Hogwarts.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban was the very first novel I ever read and finished. Don't ask me why I started with the third book, I don't really remember why but I just did. Even though I only understood small parts of it due to my limited understanding of English because I only just moved to New Zealand from the Philippines. I remember falling in love with books after that and spent so much time with my nose buried in a book, Harry Potter or otherwise. Apart from that TV show Arthur and that library card song they sang, I could only attribute my love for reading and writing to J.K. Rowling and her magical creations.

Not only did the Potter series inspire me to read and write, it also nourished my expanding sense of imagination. It also punctuated my childhood and reminiscing back, I realised most of my fondest memories involved Harry Potter. 

I remember reading too much books in dim light and sitting too close in front of the television so that my vision would worsen and I would get to wear glasses like Harry. This was when pretentious, non-prescription spectacles did not exist like they do today.

I remember playing faux-Quidditch using mops and brooms found in the garage and I ran around with my brother and neighbours in the backyard throwing around a Quaffle (which was just a basketball) and chasing a pretend Snitch.

Those Harry Potter rumours sections of K-Zone, Disney Adventures and other kids' magazines were my tabloids (Dumbledore's Animagus is Hedwig?!?!).

I remember trying to make Butterbeer using butterscotch and goodness knows what. It ended up tasting gross by the way.

I got into trouble after making a mess staining my notebooks with tea and breaking pens in half to extract the ink so I can use the feather I found on the street as a quill.

I used to have a journal and I called it Jesue's Standard Book of Spells, like the textbook Hogwarts students were prescribed with. I wrote spells in there, some taken from the books and some I made up on my own, complete with details such as wand movements, (Wingardium Leviosa is with a swish and flick) the incantation and how to pronounce it and instructions on how to fully master the spell (one must find their happiest memory in order to conjure up their Patronus Charm).

Those are just some of the memories I have growing up with the series. I'm sure there's lots more.

What are your Potter memories?

Image from SiixDream