books are me

I did a very tiny spot of spring cleaning yesterday, grounded at home on MC.

sometimes you get inspired like that - you pick up something, and the next thing you know, you're on a spring cleaning warpath. So it happened with my bookshelf.

It's not any old bookshelf - but a handmade bookshelf that my mom's student, a carpenter, had crafted following an Ikea catalogue from the early 1990s. It's a Billy Bookcase lookalike but tonnes more sturdy. No sagging at any spots despite all the tomes it has had to carry.

My bookshelf defines me. And this is why I have increasingly found it difficult to move things away from it. But alas, as Val grows, his collection of books are also increasing. I have had to clear out a spot here and there for him. Yesterday, I took the plunge and cleared out the entire second shelf for him. I have formally relegated a part of my bookshelf with my scion. such is the nobility of motherhood - and the idea of sacrifice, and giving up, as well as merging of two to one, came through ever so clearly. This boy has now become an irreplaceable part of me.

Even before Val's arrival, i would do a yearly cleaning of this bookshelf. I would plough through the boxes, the files, and the rows of books - play musical chairs with them essentially cos i could not bear to junk anything. After all, i have always been a careful book buyer. I buy books that i really want to keep. So how could i bear to part with any?

Every book and every author signified a special period of my life

The Murakami novels and non-fiction are proudly placed together. I think I read my first Murakami in the New Jersey house of an ex-love. I had visited him and his family, and stayed there for 10 days. I was given a room that had many of Murakami's novels. I picked up the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and finished it before i left. I was told that Murakami had stayed in the same house as I - albeit decades earlier. My ex-love's mom was close friends with him and when he needed to escape the fan frenzy in Japan, he came to America for a sabbatical. Here, he wrote a number of books, one of them, an autobiography in Japanese. My ex-love's sister's picture is in it.

There on the shelf are also some Salman Rushdie books. My sis had begun reading them before me but none had piqued my interest. Not until the Satanic Verses. I bought my copy in the States during my six-months Hawaii study trip. Rani was a great help, "translating" many of the Quranic references that helped me gain a richer understanding of the book. Thereafter I was hooked. I chanced upon Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories and loved it. I was so in love that I went around looking for it at second hand book stores because I loved the original illustrations. I found a copy at Far East Plaza.

The English Patient was a book I read multiple times. Of course it had everything to do with the beautiful film - I first saw it in Toronto, while on a break during my six months at Ithaca College.But the real reason is because I had met Ondaatje in person, later on, during my internship at In Conversation. I had researched him for Sonny Lim, and in the process read six of his books including his poems. Bought them out of my own expenses too! When we finally met, he gave me a big hug and a kiss on my cheek.

Then there's that Milan Kundera book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Here's one book that I read ONCE - - on a cargo ship (that used to carry cattle), down the south of Chile towards the ice bergs of Punta Arenas. It was during my 3-month trip with Raleigh International. Soon Heong had lent me the book, and I devoured it. Somehow, the book had so much resonance for me, with everything that was happening to me then (the isolation, the crush i had, the entirely foreign surroundings). I loved the book, I thought I could understand that unbearable lightness of being. When I returned to Singapore, I bought the book, but found that I could never bring back that moment. The new book remains unthumbed, but whatever Kundera meant to convey had already been embedded in my heart.

There are two sets of books that took me years to finish reading. The first set was the Lord Of the Rings trilogy. I bought them during my JC days but never got past the first book. The imagery was too rich, too complex to imagine. I am limited that way! But when the films came out, everything made sense. I went back to the books and finished them very quickly this time. Here's a real case of how movies can boost book sales!

The second book was Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy which i took seven long years to finish. It didn't belong to me. Elaine had loaned it to me and then it just got stuck there on my shelf. It was horrible seeing it cos i would feel this strong guilt for not returning to her. But i knew, just knew, that someday I would conquer it. So when I was posted to East Timor, this was the first book i packed. And I remember that day when I finally finished it. I was sitting on the verandah of my boss' house - I was staying with her for a few months - it was a Sunday afternoon. The waves were breaking in front of me, and then, a slight breeze touched my skin. I reached the last page, it took me by surprise, and i re-read the last chapter a couple of times, almost stunned that it had finally ended. I was just beginning to know the families in the book, their web of complex relationships, and the political milestones of the times. With much reluctance, I finally clapped the heavy tome closed and declared it finished. The book was returned to its owner in 2008.

100 Years of Solitude, A Fine Balance, God of Small Things; Karen Armstrong, Germaine Greer, Shakespeare. So many books, so many memories. Many books still left unread, and strategically placed in the front row so i won't miss them. My new year's resolution was to read at least six of these books. :-) Hope I will accomplish that.

Thank you books for bringing me worlds I could never have lived in. I do hope Val will come to love books as much as I do. For a person who loves to read, will never be lonely.