And Then There Were Four

I was hoping to catch the last two or three screenings at the Spanish Film Festival yesterday, but, like many unfortunate, naive, and silly, silly souls who were at the ticket booths two hours early, all screenings up until the very last one were sold out. As is my habit whenever I am awash with defeat and dejection, I turn to bargain bookstores for healing and solace, trusting the Universe to be so kind as to nudge a good book or two within my periphery.

I was not disappointed. Within an hour of spelunking through Buy The Book in Walter Mart Pasong Tamo, I found three books which I think I might enjoy spending quiet weekday afternoons with.

The first two are by Alan Gibbons, Rise of the Blood Moon and Setting of a Cruel Sun, together called The Lost Souls Stories. I started reading the first book today, and I was immediately -- and quite harshly -- pulled into the dark fantasy world painted by the author. It doesn't often happen -- even in books that I come to like -- and when it does, my only fear is that I will soon have to come back to the waking world.

The third one is Ian MacLeod's The House of Storms. I have to admit, I was initially taken in by the title and the cover, but browsing through some pages, it felt like walking through an atmosphere thick with magic -- something I am always willing to be a victim of.

And that was it. For the day at least. Today, I went to Eastwood to process my clearance from the company I just left. It went faster and more efficient than I expected, so I was left with hours of idle time before I had to meet a friend for a scheduled dinner. My brain switched gears to autopilot, and I navigated towards the nearest bookstore in the vicinity -- National Bookstore in Cybermall. And behind that black and white annoyance, that jagged mountain of books that is the Twilight Series, I found it. The Fourth. Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind. This was the description at the back of the book that got me hooked:

I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Treborn. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during the day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.

My name is Kvothe. You may have heard of me.

I myself have never heard of Kvothe, but I fell in love with him right then and there. And so it was three the minute before; the minute passed, and then there were four.