Today, I bought Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises at the SM North Edsa Branch of Book Sale. Someone retorted to this, saying that Hemingway is a depressant. I was restless at the back of a haggard bus, standing and waiting to triumphantly pass by a heated early Friday night rush hour. My sister and I just came from UP Diliman where she would take an admission examination next week. And after a frantic searching for the Math Building, the venue of her test, we eased ourselves off with a detour to SM North before going home. I dropped by National Book Store first to look for Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber, the book whose title story I quote often and silently established as a personal favorite.  Since I started earning a fairly regular money for myself, I began eyeing a copy of this one. It was nowhere to be found in Baguio book stores and I remembered seeing one in SM North so I returned with anticipation earlier. Sadly, the book costs a little over 500 pesos and despite my wish to have a copy, my frugality prevailed and let this chance to pass. Depressing.

Hemingway is nearly a favorite. The depression, the terseness in his characters’ expressions, the seemingly inevitable failures, the seemingly perpetual absence of light and hope and everything fancy – and so I replied back to that someone who remarked of Hemingway’s depressions, Better to have Hemingway’s depressions than false joys in the TV, in Eat Bulaga or Showtime for instance or in cute boys signing incomprehensible Koreans over at MYX.

 

 

 

 

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