Quick! Lock them up!!

Jun. 12.22.

Greetings!

I want to ask you something weird. Well, it’s probably only weird for those who don’t eat books.

Do you, after reading a book, feel as though you don’t want to “cleanse the palate,” you want to continue savouring the book by not reading another?

That’s how I feel about Snow by Orhan Pamuk. 

I want to keep on tasting Ka’s room, the dimly lit streets, the tea shops, and pastry; the old theatre; long dinners. (Yes, I am well aware that I can lick the book but paper has a bitter aftertaste. Ask me how I know.)

Another thing. I don’t want to lend Snow to anyone. 

Reason # 1. At the back of Snow, I’ve scribbled a masterpiece of an observation about people moving about in the streets of my lovely native land. It will make me millions. I will buy my yatch...yacth...and on this ya...Big Fancy Boath, I will have gardens of fruits and vegetables and flowers and many books. The BT will not be welcome. 

Which takes me to Reason #2 as to why I do not want to lend out Snow.

Shivers of fear run down my spine thinking about the BT! 

The BT is your friendly neighbourhood Book Teef...Thief. (The Guyanese community can stop giggling now, thinking that by BT I meant derrière.)

The bleddy BT does borrow you’ book, pledging heart and soul to return de precious package, yet when you ask for it after a Mighty Long Period, that is to say, de very next day, de BT does behave as though you throw you’ ship pon they fan and break de said fan on hot days. Oh, what a tangled tamasha and all o’ that. (Shakespeare woulda prefer “tamasha” if he did know it! It got more potential than web o’ lies.)

My first memory of a BT was with book G, from a set of enclyopaedias in our old family home. G showed coloured pictures of gems. G vanished like jewels from our old family home. Years later, my mother said a chap named F. was the culprit.

F. stole G. from our Home and I was not amused. It was not a JoKe.

Over the years, many a book was teefed from our home. Eventually, mother grew afraid of the BTs. She locked up all the books in a cupboard in a bedroom. 

That book cupboard is a story for another day...oh, hey, it’s in my e-book, Big Ole Home By De Sea, on smashwords.com. 

I got to go make breakfast now.

See you soon, Sunday after next. In the mean time, if you know any BTs, or a book worm, would you kindly share this with them please? 

Have a happy week feasting on a delish book, plenty love, neena.

P.S. I once toyed with the mere thought of teefing a book, only the thought, not the action, but I didn’t want to be a BT…