Non Standard Issue: The (partial) lifecycle of a bookworm

Two years old – the bookworm inside me hatched. I had a crush on the alphabet and the interest soon flamed into a full-fledged love affair with reading.

Now I am twenty one, and boyfriendless I might still be, but “bookfriends” I do certainly have aplenty. (Duh...what a corny way to start a blog.)

I first chewed my way into the copies of komiks scattered in our home. Note that komiks was spelled with a “k” instead of a “c”, which meant I was engrossed in Pilipino FUNNY Komiks instead of Marvel Comics.

A few years later, when I was ready for more “mature” reading, I got interested in the Tagalog romance paperbacks being read by my much older cousins. Okay, a few years later meant I was already turning pages and pages of Precious Hearts Romances, Gilda Olvidado, and other Filipino romance writers before I even hit Grade 3.

So for those making okray of TRPs because they think they are below their level: TRPs are far from being mere cheap literature for the less-educated sector of the masses. Yes, I had my share of clichéd stories with plots that made my eyebrow rise (same case too for English paperbacks), but there are many talented Tagalog writers out there whose stories I really enjoyed. Check out Eve Montelibano and Sonia Fransesca and you’ll know what I mean.

I can testify that I am not an isolated case because in high school, I had friends who are into debates, school publications, student leadership and other “intellectual” what-have-you who also read them for leisure. In fact, they were the source of most of my TRPs.

With that, I now rest my case.

Rewinding a bit to my elementary days, I dipped into my father’s loot of Reader’s Digests and Western pocketbooks, which spurred days of sitting on the couch and being lost in a new world. There was also a huge cabinet in my grandmother’s house which contained mostly American textbooks and a few other publications. Sometimes, when my father brought me to work, he would just deposit me in the nearby local library where I would just sit reading contentedly all day.

In summary, my early readings was a hodge podge of childhood fairytales, romance (the root of my being a hopeless romantic), adventure (guns, horses, wagons, the brave men and women pioneers who won and shaped the West, Indians – by Grade 6 I can enumerate the tribes with my eyes closed), Readers’ Digest (the richness of the contents was amazing) and whatever I can lay my greedy eyes on.

One amusing thing too was I never really spent a huge amount for these books. When I had already exhausted the reading materials available in our house and my relatives’, low-cost opportunities came in the forms of second-hand bookstores and book rentals.

Back then, my parents and I will trawl second-hand bookstores to find novels and other reading gems at super discounted prices. Sometimes, they will just come home with dog-eared volumes for me and I will read them with glee – unmindful of the genre or the scribbles. Today, even if I can already afford to buy some of my favorite titles brand-new, my heart still flutters whenever I see a second-hand bookstore.

By high school, I was deep into reading during weekends that my mother had to gently remind me to finish my chores first (hmmm...she also reached the point where she threatened to throw my books away). I would obey but I could not help myself from a peeking at a page or two in between those “boring” work.

The experience of hunting for second-hand books taught me the useful skills of book appreciation and discernment. Not all of my favorite books are what you will consider popular or “mainstream” (aka in the bestseller display) and some may not even be found in a regular shop like National Bookstore. I learned that some of the best treasures are tucked in hidden corners and unexpected nooks, to be revealed only to those who know how to patiently dig.

In college, I quenched my ever increasing thirst by borrowing from my new-found friends. I’m lucky I kept meeting people who love to read, and it helped that I was in the school publication. I had yet to meet a writer who did not appreciate books. Even if it meant chugging past six floors of stairs, I also took advantage of the university library. I was such a loyal visitor that by the time I started junior college, I had to request for a new borrowing card.

For books that I could not scavenge in mortar and brick locations, I scoured the Internet for online copies. I remembered finishing the whole series of Twilight and Percy Jackson, to name a few, in front of my computer during semestral breaks. Squinting in front of the monitor until the wee hours of the morning probably added a few digits to my contact lens grade, but I am not complaining.

When I finished college and started working in Manila, the manna of free books ended. (Gasp!) Of course, there is always Google. Still, my fingers missed caressing the crisp leaves of a book. When before, I can smoothly transition from John Grisham to Susan Elizabeth Phillips in a snap, I was literally stuck (pun intended) with the few Young Adult fiction I was able to borrow. No more well-stacked library and no more friends who can recommend and lend me their favorites. I sorely missed the variety, and an unsatisfied palate is as bothersome as an unscratchable itch.

To keep my sanity insane and my literacy from fluctuating to zilch, I decided to sway a bit of my rule to buy only non-fiction books and borrow fiction (except if I really liked the novel or if it is from a second-hand shop). So I went to National Bookstore and after an hour of perusing the shelves, I decided on the Curious Incident of the Dog and the Midnight by Mark Haddon and The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.

That purchase was a milestone for me because as far as I know, they were the first two regular-priced fiction books I bought in my life ever. It was a case of desperation and I nearly blew off my budget since there were so many books I really wanted to buy and I nearly cried when I had to skip them.

But, I guess the universe heard my pleas and a few days after, I was saved again by my childhood hero – I came across a second-hand bookstore with a whole gamut of books in Starmall EDSA!

My heart danced a fast beat, my eyes feasted on the display, and my hands touched reverently the ones near me. The only offset was that the Kite Runner and the Curious Incident were both prominently displayed, all at half the prices I bought them in NBS.

Closer to home, a cute art shop opened within California Garden Square (where I am currently renting) and it also offered a nice selection of second-hand but well-taken cared of books.

I was stuck for a while, but I am happy to be able to wiggle out of my dilemma and burp again. I know still have many future “bookfriends” to make, and I have to honor my chosen “profession.” This bookworm’s lifecycle has just barely begun, baby. :)