My hands have been dying to get itself on a classic which was why I felt smugly triumphant when I emerged from the second-hand bookstore that I love. Poring over the classic titles that lined one of its shelves, my heart literally skipped a beat when I saw The Portrait of a Lady, not because it’s a specific title I sought but because I thought I finally found James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. So yea, I got too excited but I actually had reason to be because it was in the same place that I found Joyce’s Dubliners. Albeit disappointed, I picked it up and mechanically turned to the back cover to spoil myself. And wow, I ended up buying it.
I have not finished reading it yet but because I am, I might finally get idiosyncratic when it comes to handling my books. You see, I normally don’t fill my books with highlights and though I love quoting, I feel as though it’s a sacrilege to desecrate a book with colorful marks. Writing it down or saving it on my phone is what I have grown accustomed to. With The Portrait of a Lady, I might as well grab my orange marker and highlight –well, I don’t know– everything! Hahaha. Perhaps not all of it but each page has something worth noting that I can hardly keep up with writing it down. Oh why does it have to be so good?
Once I’m done with it, I might write something about it here even if my writing won’t give the novel its worthy praise. 🙂