After pleasuring myself with a plateful of creamy fettuccini at Chinto’s, along with wifey Evelyn, who nibbled through a taco-sandwich, we strolled towards the 4th floor of Southway Supermall early in the afternoon.
In the old books section, a section of the store which I take fancy the most, I examined a gregarious amount of old pocketbooks, some I have read and some that still haven’t.
Consequently, my professor in public administration Mr. Vic Mabalod was similarly nibbling through the old books and we exchanged greetings.
I asked if a busy man like him could still find enough time to read pocketbooks and he says yes of course, that’s why he was looking out for titles that he might have an interest at that time.
He could be interested in Joseph Wambaugh I suggested, as several of his books were just waiting to be picked up. He said he is crazy about Ken Follet as of this time. I know that Ken Follet is so good at suspense thriller despite that I haven’t got much into him as I was so much inclined towards Frederick Forsythe for my suspense thrillers, and Tom Clancy of course.
One Joseph Wambaugh title that I haven’t read was available at 35 pesos. Sir Mabalod thought they get so much cheaper right now, compared to say, a year ago when it would generally be 80 bucks per pop, and as much as 200 pesos if it’s a more recent issue.
But I felt that I do not have any more time to read books as of this time. With work and graduate school filling my schedule to the hilt, I have about five books that I have lined up for reading, and the first one is not even halfway, “The Better Man” by Anita Nair, an Indian novelist. I had also started “The Shipping News” about a month ago but haven’t got to finish it even if the prose was excellent and breezy, the kind that I like reading the most.
So no Joseph Wambaugh for me as of this time. Maybe later. Even if Mr. Wambaugh is one of the favoritest writer for me, ever. Very clever storytelling skill Mr. Wambaugh has and his jest is just so sharp and original, very funny and yet, so seriously tragic and/or dramatic.
And I forget to mention that in this Internet Age, reading pocketbooks is starting to become a lost art. Everyone seems to be trying to be online almost all the time. Including myself, I must admit. Years ago, I could finish a regularly-paged pocketbook in less than a week, and sometimes just in one 24-hour span if I am so crazy about a title.
But now, it is just not the same. Makes me wonder; if there is still time for pocketbooks?
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