Monday, June 20, 2011

of books & authors


"Become Someone Else" is a print ad campaign of Mint Vinetu bookstore. "When one reads books, he starts living it and identifies (or not) with the main hero." These print ads provoke people to try on different personas by reading more.

Truly, a book transports its readers to a different world, maybe a different time. This post honors writers I know from the past, present and future.

Past. Today, on Dr. Jose Rizal's 150th birth anniversary, isn't it just fitting to start with his...


Present. I am so proud of Filipina Samantha Sotto who wrote Before Ever After, a novel that is soon to be released internationally! She just recently came home from Random House Publishing in New York with a photo of her novel's hardcover mock-up...


Before Every After follows the story of Shelley, a young widow who discovers that her dead husband may in fact be very much alive - which would be wonderful if the bearer of this news wasn't her 32-year-old husband's 32-year-old grandson. Shelley's search for answers takes her from revolutionary Paris to medieval Prussia to ancient Venice, and finally to a place where she discovers whether love is truly everlasting. Follow Samantha Sotto in her countdown to her debut novel's release via www.theslightdetour.blogspot.com.

Future? My then 12-year-old daughter wrote this short story for her Literacy class last year. This was her very first draft and yet, I was so moved...

DEPRESSION

I'm walking through a long corridor. I've been walking for hours. Finally, I see a door. When I open it, I see a girl crouched down, hugging herself. She stands up. Her back is to me now. A voice fills the room. "Have you ever been depressed?", it says. I answer in a meek voice, "Yes." The voice comes again. I listen to it intently and realized something. "Are you sure?", it says. I realize that the voice isn't just sad. It's dead. No emotion. I can't answer. The girl in the middle of the room starts shaking. I hear a laugh. An evil laugh. Like metal, or nails scratching on a chalk board. Yet, this sound, this laugh, is lifeless. Like it was just put on, not real, fake. The room turns red. Red as blood. The girl slowly turns. As she does, the voice says again, "I have been very depressed. Depressed enough to hurt myself." The girl is now facing me, but her head is tilted down. I can't see her face. I notice her black hair like mine. She seems old enough to be my age. I wonder who she is. "Do you remember what I said? I was depressed enough to hurt myself." I didn't understand. She lifted her head. She had scratches all over her face. They looked like nail marks. She was bleeding. This wasn't the worst part though. After studying the marks on her face, I looked at her eyes, only to realize she had none. She had gouged her own eyes out! I couldn't speak. I lifted my arm to touch her and she did the same.  Perfect synchronization!  But when I touched her hand, I realized, I was looking at a  mirror...  
I WOKE UP SCREAMING.

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