April 19, 2007
What we don’t see in our bookstores
Every now and then the husband and I would take a trip to the bookstore, one of two places (the other being the library) where I could stay for hours on end and just soak up my mind on anything. The first time I visited the library in the area I was simply amazed at the vast collection of books. It is truly a bookworm’s delight. The place is so welcoming it is not uncommon to see kids going in with their parents in tow. I wish we have public libraries like this in the Philippines and perhaps we’ll see more kids hooked on reading and learning.
When I think of public libraries, or at least the ones I’ve been to, I am reminded of pages threatening to fall out in one flip, dingy hallways and vandalized tables and chairs. I lived in Cebu City for 10 years and each time I passed by the public library the “ongoing repair” sign that had been there for ages was discouraging enough. Access to quality libraries oftentimes becomes a privilege, such as being enrolled in a private school that offers excellent learning facilities.
As to bookstores, Borders is pretty much the place to go to when book-hunting around here. The sheer number of books is just dizzying and there’s always something to catch your interest. Case in point: a whole row of books on bedroom matters, something you’ll probably never see in the Philippines save for Margie Holmes’ dissections on horizontal action. (Speaking of Dr. Holmes, she’s blogging too!)
Self-help books also seem to be the rage here. If you’re stuck with something, chances are there is a book out there to help you out, down to the nitty-gritty. This is the age of convenience so it doesn’t come as a surprise that how-to books easily become bestsellers. Plus, when it comes to life-changing decisions like divorce, these books might just save you from you skyrocketing attorney’s fees.
From our last trip to Borders, I acquired Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s latest book, Memories of My Melancholy Whores. I was ecstatic. I have fallen in love with Marquez since reading One Hundred Years of Solitude and Chronicle of a Death Foretold so I was only too eager to get my hands on his latest opus. It took me less than a day to finish it. The magical realism that Marquez is renowned for was still there. As with most of his works, Melancholy is both bizarre and erotic. The prose is hypnotizing yet something was missing. When I reached the 115th page, I felt like a kid promised with ice cream and walked away with a lollipop. What a letdown.
