It’s summer now, and I have less to occupy my time. This means that the annual book devouring is in full force. I’ve read seven books in two and a half weeks. I have four waiting on my shelves for their turn. Keeping me in books is a problem that I have only found one solution to, and yet my library card at Chapman expires on July 6th.
“I hope someone gives me Neil Gaiman’s Make Good Art,” I told Brian a few days before I graduated.
“Did you ask anyone for it?” Brian said.
Brian laughed, “Then why do you think someone will give it to you?”
“I don’t really expect it,” I said. “My love of Neil Gaiman is well known, though. I’m more just hoping. It’s a graduation speech, it’s about life and stuff. It’s really the perfect present. Someone should think of it.”
No one thought of it. Instead people gave me money, so I bought the book for myself. (Not that I’m knocking money. Money is really great.) The book is really more of an art book than an actual book book. The remarkable thing about it is the way the artist did the typesetting. It reads like Neil Gaiman’s vocal inflections while he was giving the speech. Inside the back flap, the book told me, “This is really great. You should enjoy it.” Well, I did. Your command is my command. (Wait, that’s not right…)
I may be biased. I’m a vehement Neil Gaiman fan almost to the point of obsession. (“Almost?” Brian would say. “It’s gone far beyond almost.” It’s really his wife I’m twitter stalking, though, I promise!)
I’ve ordered my copy of Ocean At The End Of The Lane, and those other books will all just have to wait their turn once it arrives. I can hardly wait until mid-June when my signed copy gets here. I’m hoping for a ghost.