I’ve been riding the swells of a rare book reading binge. My appetite for books were a large part of my teen years, finding solace and understanding in the fantastical adventures of hobbits, bats, wizards and Toronto youths. My love of fantasy as a genre stems from my early childhood days of Animorphs, Goosebumps and an assortment of pirated comic books, as was the fashion in 90’s Metro Manila. But, much like everybody else I know, my current lifestyle is consumed by a day job, social outings, events, daily chores. When the urge to binge read arises, I attack the opportunity, much like the sharks in my recent shark obsession. Two of the five books I’ve blasted through over July 2022 feature those fun jaws of doom. There’s something so exciting about a man-eating fish monster, larger and wiser beyond human comprehension. Like the existence of puny humans pale in comparison to eons of survival and evolution by the perfect biological weapon. But I digress.

Journalist and self-proclaimed ocean lover Susan Casey reads much like a magazine writer’s work in The Devil’s Teeth, a space I’m fond and familiar of, only this time with sharks instead of sneakers and shoes. The 1929 Tanizaki novel was a gift from my younger brother, and unbeknownst to either of us, the acclaimed Tanizaki literary prize is named after him. I wanted to read Alten’s The Meg simply because I found it in horror section of a used bookstore in Parry Sound, alongside ten or twelve other shark horror-themed novels. The book barrage is rounded out by two of my favourite authors: Sedaris, for his dry and relatable anecdotes, and Murakami, for his comfident, nonchalant world-building.

On a more seasonal note, this rushing literary appetite is another factor added to my enjoyment of summer 2022. For the regular readers, we’ve storied through a JRPG quietly on rest mode, loaded up on my PlayStation 5, a reggaeton/house playlist and seeming return to social media. I attribute this to being the first real summer post-pandemic. Truly, I feel like I’m getting a real taste of what my life would be like had the last few years not happened.

Special shoutout to a childhood friend of my brother’s Miguel DaSilva, the author of “Papa Was A Boy Once.” The book is a quick read comprised of nihilist but positive anecdotes refracted through the lens of a second generation boy in the suburban Toronto area. I’ve known Miguel personally for over a decade, so it is easy for me to paint the pictures of his characters and their lifestyles, who are refashioned versions of people we both know. There is a bias here, but I recommend this for your personal introspective needs – it is good to take appraise your personal choices and vices every so often, like sweeping up cobwebs in your closet.

Additional reading:

“A commentary on Charles Lu, collection [1.]” for Windhill Journal

“A commentary on Drakes, Menace in Venice” for Windhill Journal