I got upset the other day over something people would certainly
call trivial. The cover of my precious SCRUPLES
tore itself off almost completely from its spine during one of my re-readings. I’m afraid to
open the novel now. It’s the 1978 mass market paperback Warner Books edition, the one with the inside
front cover featuring the blurbs; and on the inside back cover, the
full-colored image of the author. You can say I’m all inconsolable about this. I’ve
always tried taking good care of the novel, never bending it too much, always
using a book cover to keep it neat and clean. But I guess time rendered it
fragile and in the end it just gave up. I would gladly show it to you but I’m
afraid it will tear off completely if I scan it. So here’s a scan of a beat up
paperback Spanish edition of SCRUPLES
instead. Sure, I could always use Scotch Tape to strengthen the cover but it’s
not the same as it being undamaged, is it?
So the next best thing is to find myself another mint copy.
Easier said than done, I quickly realized. With the disappearance of local used
book stores and the hard-to-find tag attached to the book it is almost
impossible to find it unless I pay big bucks online which I refuse to do. I did
pick up a copy recently but without the inside back cover and author photo. It
is not the same, I agree, but it is far better than owning nothing. That is
until I get my hands on a real replacement.
Then again, maybe I won’t. Maybe it’s the book’s way
of telling me that we must part, it and I, for I did blast it a little while
ago, mainly for its homophobic content which I more or less retracted later on in
another post. Nonetheless karma did find a way to reach me. Still, I refuse to give
any credence to that. I adore SCRUPLES
too much despite its obvious flaws. So I’ll hold on to my hopes of being
reacquainted with it. When will that be exactly? I have no clue yet. But mark
my words, it will happen, or my middle name isn’t trash guru after all.
Until next post—Martin
