(giveaway) 2 buku Remember When & 3 buku Melbourne di Jakarta Book Fair

Dear teman-teman, nggak terasa sudah tiba waktunya untuk Jakarta Book Fair lagi nih. Tahun ini diadakan di Istora Senayan, dari tanggal 23 Mei sampai 1 Juni 2014.

Aku akan hadir di Jakarta Book Fair tanggal 1 Juni 2014 jam 11-12 siang, membicarakan novel, penulisan, adaptasi novel ke film, dan booksigning serta bincang santai dengan pembaca.

Berikut jadwalnya.

Gagas Media juga mau membagikan 2 buku Remember When dan 3 buku Melbourne. Syaratnya, kamu harus bisa mengambil langsung bukunya selama Jakarta Book Fair tersebut, jadi hadiahnya harus diambil langsung.

Caranya?

Cukup pasang kover novel Remember When, atau selfie kamu bersama buku tersebut sebagai avatar socmed seperti Twitter dan Facebook kamu.

Kemudian, posting status tentang kenapa kamu pengin nonton film Remember When. Jangan lupa mention @WinnaEfendi dan hashtag #FilmRemember When

Contoh: Aku pengin nonton #FilmRememberWhen karena penasaran melihat karakter-karakternya di layar lebar. CC: @WinnaEfendi

Mudah, kan?

Giveaway dibuka dari 23 Mei sampai 28 Mei 2014. Mulai besok, setiap hari akan diumumkan 1 pemenang yang akan dikontak via Twitter.

Sampai ketemu di Jakarta Book Fair!

Mo (bagian 2)

Hari itu, kami pergi ke tempat selain kedai buku tua di pinggir jalan.

Hari itu, kami kehujanan.

Mo menyambar tanganku yang terbungkus jaket hitam – jaket lusuh almamaterku, lalu menarikku mengikuti langkahnya yang tergesa. “Cepat!” desisnya, dan sambil menangkupi kepala dengan kedua tangan, kami berdua berlari mencari tempat berteduh.

Padahal, kami bisa saja memasuki kedai buku tua, yang hanya beberapa langkah menuju arah yang berlawanan. Padahal, kami bisa saja berdiri menunggu hujan reda dari balik genting warung yang separuh kosong di tikungan jalan.

Tetapi, Mo membawaku menuju halte bus, dan ketika menemukan satu bus yang kebetulan lewat, tanpa banyak omong ia mengajakku masuk. Kami berdua berdesakan menuju dua kursi kosong di belakang, dan sambil mengibaskan pakaian serta tas yang basah, dia menoleh ke arahku dan tersenyum lebar.

“Kita mau ke mana?”

Dia mengangkat bahu. Ternyata, dia juga tak sempat melihat jurusan yang tertulis di punggung bus. “Bukankah ada sesuatu yang menyenangkan dari bepergian tanpa tahu harus ke mana?”

Antusiasmenya mau tak mau menular padaku, membuat pundakku rileks. Aku menyandarkan badan pada kursi. “Yaah... aku hanya nggak suka perasaan tersesat.” Tersesat di jalan saat sedang mengantar dokumen penting untuk klien, nyasar saat mencari alamat teman lama yang mendadak ingin mengembalikan barang, perasaan kacau yang timbul kala kebingungan. Tersesat dalam hidup adalah pengalaman yang serupa.

“Setiap petualangan hebat dimulai dari tersesat, lho,” sambungnya riang. Dia menawarkan selembar tisu yang sudah hampir seluruhnya basah, namun aku menerimanya tanpa banyak komentar. “Aku menemukan toko buku kita pun karena tersesat.”

Toko buku kita. Aneh, untuk dua orang yang hampir tak saling mengenal, tak berbagi apa pun kecuali sebuah tempat kecil di tepi jalan. Tapi aku menyukai penggunaan kata kita dalam kalimatnya. Rasanya seperti mempunyai rahasia.

“Oh, ya?”

Dia mengangguk. “Aku salah menaiki bus. Dibawa keliling Jakarta. Uang kecilku habis untuk pengamen yang tak henti-hentinya menyanyikan lagu kesukaanku.” Dia terkekeh. “Dan aku berhenti di pinggir jalan itu, nggak sengaja tertarik dengan buku-buku yang dipajang di depan toko. Buku pertama yang kubeli di sana adalah The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Judulnya aneh, untuk buku yang aneh juga.”

Semua ini aneh, aku ingin menambahkan.

“Mo?”

“Ya?” Dia menjawab tanpa menoleh, asyik menatap guliran gerimis di permukaan kaca jendela yang kotor.

“Kamu pernah merasa sedih?” Sedih yang benar-benar sedih, seperti ditonjok dan kaurasakan pukulan itu sampai ke ulu hati. Rasa yang tak kunjung punah, berlama-lama sampai kau terbiasa hidup dengan pahit itu.

Dia malah tertawa, mengkontradiksi jawabannya sendiri. “Tentu saja pernah.”

“Benar?”

Seseorang pernah berkata padaku, ia membenci orang-orang yang selalu tampak bahagia. Orang-orang yang selalu berkata, semuanya akan baik-baik saja! Jangan khawatir! Teruslah berharap! Menurutnya, orang-orang itu hipokrit. Mengapa harus tertawa saat merasakan sakit? Mengapa tidak melengos, membuang muka, memasang tampang kesal, seperti seharusnya?

Saat itu, aku tak punya jawabannya.

Tapi Mo punya.

Dia kini termenung, memainkan ujung jemarinya pada kiasan embun, membentuk uliran yang tak kupahami. Lama dia melakukannya, sampai bus tiba-tiba berhenti dan sopirnya memaki dengan kata-kata kotor.

“Sedih itu ya, sama saja seperti perasaan yang lain. Lama atau tidaknya ia tinggal, tergantung pilihan kita.”

Aku menoleh, menatapnya yang kini sibuk mendekap tas di pangkuannya erat-erat dengan pandangan menerawang.

“Sedih buat setiap orang juga beda-beda, iya kan? Sedih versiku adalah menenggelamkan diri dalam film komedi demi film komedi, bukannya tertawa malah tersedu-sedu. Makan mi instan berhari-hari, hidup dalam timbunan sampah karena terlalu malas untuk bergerak. Tapi lalu ada jenis-jenis sedih yang lain. Jenis sedih yang muncul saat melewati padang bunga matahari, begitu indahnya sampai terharu, tapi ada sebersit sedih di balik bahagia itu. Melihat pelangi pertama sehabis hujan berkepanjangan di bulan Desember, tapi berharap dapat berbaginya dengan seseorang yang tidak ada di sana. Tertidur nyenyak setelah seharian bekerja keras, tapi terbangun dan merasa ada sesuatu yang hilang. Begitu setiap hari, kebahagiaan yang bercampur dengan rasa itu, apa pun yang kauperbuat.”

Aku termenung, memikirkan jawabannya. Mungkin aku salah. Mungkin dia mengerti – hanya saja, jenis kesedihan yang lain.

“Kamu sendiri, pasti punya kesedihanmu sendiri, bukan?” Dia bertanya dengan kerlingan penuh pengertian dalam binar matanya.

Untuk sesaat, yang dapat kulakukan hanya menatapnya, hati-hati agar wajahku tak menampakkan emosi apa pun, namun kutahu usaha itu gagal tanpa ampun. Mo sepertinya dapat memahami setiap pikiran yang terbersit, karena senyumnya memudar, dan di dalam bus itu, di dua tempat duduk di sudut, di tengah hujan dan pikiran kami sendiri, dia menyentuh tanganku.

Sejurus kemudian, mendadak bus berhenti dan kenek meneriakkan nama perhentian terakhir, dan momen itu lepas begitu saja.

**

(book) Tell the Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt

Synopsis:

In this striking literary debut, Carol Rifka Brunt unfolds a moving story of love, grief, and renewal as two lonely people become the unlikeliest of friends and find that sometimes you don't know you've lost someone until you've found them.

1987. There's only one person who has ever truly understood fourteen-year-old June Elbus, and that's her uncle, the renowned painter Finn Weiss. Shy at school and distant from her older sister, June can only be herself in Finn's company; he is her godfather, confidant, and best friend. So when he dies, far too young, of a mysterious illness her mother can barely speak about, June's world is turned upside down. But Finn's death brings a surprise acquaintance into June's life--someone who will help her to heal, and to question what she thinks she knows about Finn, her family, and even her own heart.

At Finn's funeral, June notices a strange man lingering just beyond the crowd. A few days later, she receives a package in the mail. Inside is a beautiful teapot she recognizes from Finn's apartment, and a note from Toby, the stranger, asking for an opportunity to meet. As the two begin to spend time together, June realizes she's not the only one who misses Finn, and if she can bring herself to trust this unexpected friend, he just might be the one she needs the most. 

An emotionally charged coming-of-age novel, "Tell the Wolves I'm Home" is a tender story of love lost and found, an unforgettable portrait of the way compassion can make us whole again.

Review:

I haven't had the pleasure of reading a book that's this emotional and raw for such a long time. After the pages closed, all I wanted to do was bask in silence and let the tears flow. It was expected that I'd encounter a sad story about death, what I did not expect was how much I'd love the story, and how heartbreaking it all was.

I love all the characters. I like being in June's shoes, seeing everything through her eyes, feel the raw emotions she does, and loves as much as she does. I get to know Finn through her understanding, grow fond of Toby just as she does, and never feels like I know more than she does, just flowing in her pace. I like that the feelings are all honestly told - the good, the bad, even those demons within our hearts that we often hide away just so people won't know how horrible we can be.

Even though some characters - Greta, Danni, are at first exasperating, I'm glad I get to know their stories, and that they react in a humane way, and that makes me understand.

There are pages that make me teary-eyed or smile, because they're that kind of stories; the wonderful, the bittersweet, a story about love in the purest sense of wanting the other to be happy, a story about family, getting lost, getting found, and the discoveries along the way. It's about secrets, but it's also about setting them free. It's about acceptance and friendship and memories and art and finding ourselves.

I love everything about this book. It can get slow and choppy at times but I accept that as how the author wanted to construct this book, and possibly how her style really is. It's definitely a beautiful debut, and I look forward to more of Carol Rifka Brunt's books.

Five stars out of five.

(book) The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo

Synopsis

"One evening, my father asked me if I would like to become a ghost bride..."

Though ruled by British overlords, the Chinese of colonial Malaya still cling to ancient customs. And in the sleepy port town of Malacca, ghosts and superstitions abound.

Li Lan, the daughter of a genteel but bankrupt family, has few prospects. But fate intervenes when she receives an unusual proposal from the wealthy and powerful Lim family. They want her to become a ghost bride for the family's only son, who recently died under mysterious circumstances. Rarely practiced, a traditional ghost marriage is used to placate a restless spirit. Such a union would guarantee Li Lan a home for the rest of her days, but at a terrible price.

After an ominous visit to the opulent Lim mansion, Li Lan finds herself haunted not only by her ghostly would-be suitor, but also by her desire for the Lim's handsome new heir, Tian Bai. Night after night, she is drawn into the shadowy parallel world of the Chinese afterlife, with its ghost cities, paper funeral offerings, vengeful spirits and monstrous bureaucracy—including the mysterious Er Lang, a charming but unpredictable guardian spirit. Li Lan must uncover the Lim family's darkest secrets—and the truth about her own family—before she is trapped in this ghostly world forever.

Review

I was intrigued by the interesting premise. Having spent part of my childhood in Malaysia, and visited Malacca a few times, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of familiarity I felt as I read the book.

The myth and the air of mystery were also a surprise to me. I wasn't expecting such an elaborate journey on the main character's part, thinking it would just be a mysterious story about a wedding with a ghost. But then Li Lan, the main character, got swept away in the afterworld, met a few wonderful and repulsive characters, and in essence, it was an adventure I loved to tag along on.

Story wise, it was full of elements of surprise. The pacing was not that fast, exacerbated by the fact that it was full of historical facts and descriptions. Long passages and narration after narration got boring sometimes, but I soldiered on and it was worth it.

The romance took a back seat, but I was so glad to see it resurface near the ending, unexpectedly at that. The characters were flawed and vivid to the point that they portrayed what humanity was, and even the antagonists did make me shiver. When Lim Tian Ching first haunted Li Lan's dreams, I was afraid for her as well for myself - for it was in essence, a ghost story, and I was bracing for scary stories.

Li Lan was a heroine I loved to root for. At the beginning she was spoiled and selfish, but as the story progressed, I found out how resourceful she was, witty and stubborn. She was also pretty - something I was not expecting because she was not described as so, but then it coincided with the fact that she did not consider herself beautiful. This was a nice example of showing rather than telling; the author showed us how smart she was, and how attractive, instead of describing it in irrelevant details. The rest of the descriptions were vivid, and helped set the setting nicely.

In the end, I did not want this story to end. I reread some parts I loved, and would like a sequel although that does not seem possible at the moment

Commercial vs High Fashion

The countless hours spent watching rerun after rerun of modelling reality programs such as America's Next Top Model, the Face and Supermodel Me means I get to not only distinguish between a good makeover and a bad one, the importance of a portfolio, the need for your eyes to communicate as well as the flow and connection of your whole body and face, and also the difference between a commercial and a high fashion model.

In the programs, girls are always quickly divided and labeled into 'commercial models', whose looks are common and conventionally beautiful enough to book jobs for commercial advertisements and magazines, and those who fall into the category of 'high fashion models', who have a striking look and certain quirkiness to themselves that attribute them to high-end fashion magazines such as Vogue. The latter are the models that walk through the runways of high-end brands, those whose looks are unforgettable and have the traits of a future supermodel. You will see commercial models on buses, when you flip through a teen magazine, or have them featured in a beauty how-to editorial segment online. They will model clothes for your local mall, clad in the brands they represent - be it jeans, daily cosmetics, anti-acne products.

But the high fashion models are the ones you will remember. They will pose in unnatural angles and have their make up done in such a way that screams unconventional, but everyone of great power in the fashion industry will love it. They will strut down Fashion Week runways in see-through couture dresses, wearing nude make ups or looking as though they've just stepped out of bed, but so, so gorgeous. They are the faces you will see and think inwardly, oh, she's not that pretty, but there's something about her...

I've begun to think that this applies to writing as well.

There are the so-called commercial writers, and high fashion writers. The former can easily have bestsellers in modest to good quantities, publish more books than we think possible, and attend seminars, be in public workshops or talk-show, and have their faces in the interview segments of most magazines. Their success is wow-inducing, based on the amount of books in a specific genre that resonates with its target readers, and might even have a cult following who won't miss a single book once it hits the shelves. Their books have hits and lows - some are great to cuddle in bed with or you can't take your eyes off it during a holiday break, some are snoozers that you only read because you used to like the author.

Then there's another type of writer entirely. The literary prize winner. The one whose debut shoots up straight to the bestselling charts, where it stays for weeks, possibly months. The writing style is genius. The idea is mind-blowing. Awards after awards swoop in and carry the author's name to become a household name. Every home must have that book on their shelves. Movie producers are making deals one after another for that book, along with a string of equally famous actors to represent the adaptations. The author that makes you think, she definitely writes flawlessly, as if it took her no effort at all, though we all know it's not true... but I'm just so in awe! (and so jealous).

Deep down, I do think that is true.

I also believe that while 'high fashion' writers are born out of sheer talent (as well as hard work), it takes a genius and a rare gem of a talent to achieve that. While 'commercial' writers probably possess more luck, find a niche, or simply work harder than everyone else, and do enjoy quite a nice amount of success, often being a 'high fashion' writer is more desirable. I certainly wish I am one, though I am grateful to be where I am :)

It might take ages and lots of hard work to be that, but I also believe it is entirely possible.

It can also be that my musings are wholeheartedly wrong. After all, every writer is unique.

But deep down, I close my eyes and imagine the quirky girl on the Vogue cover, and smile.

Photo taken from ashleeholmes.buzznet.com

(book) Garden of Stones by Sophie Littlefield

Synopis:

In the dark days of war, a mother makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Lucy Takeda is just fourteen years old, living in Los Angeles, when the bombs rain down on Pearl Harbor. Within weeks, she and her mother, Miyako, are ripped from their home, rounded up-along with thousands of other innocent Japanese-Americans-and taken to the Manzanar prison camp. 

Buffeted by blistering heat and choking dust, Lucy and Miyako must endure the harsh living conditions of the camp. Corruption and abuse creep into every corner of Manzanar, eventually ensnaring beautiful, vulnerable Miyako. Ruined and unwilling to surrender her daughter to the same fate, Miyako soon breaks. Her final act of desperation will stay with Lucy forever...and spur her to sins of her own. 

Bestselling author Sophie Littlefield weaves a powerful tale of stolen innocence and survival that echoes through generations, reverberating between mothers and daughters. It is a moving chronicle of injustice, triumph and the unspeakable acts we commit in the name of love. 

Review:

I've never read anything written by Sophie Littlefield, but was intrigued by the story and rave reviews it's getting, so I decided to buy the book. I've always been drawn to war stories, especially victims of enslavement and concentration camps. It is also my first time knowing and reading about the Japanese eviction from their homes post-Pearl Harbour bombing, and there is something very tragic about leaving the only home you've ever known.

The story starts with Reg, who's bland and uninteresting, until the next chapter proves otherwise. I'm not a fan of flashbacks interwoven with the current present because I usually find the flashbacks more satisfying. This reminds me of Jodi Picoult's the Storyteller. But then I keep going, and am enthralled by Miyako and Lucy's world, how it begins and how it falls apart.

Sophie Littlefield's description is so vivid I can imagine what she's writing. Even though some descriptions are overdone that I want to skip them, they do help in building the setting and momentum. I can feel myself walking beside Lucy, or be in her shoes. The best and worst part is the explanation of the latrine in their new shelter - it makes me cringe and want to turn away just by reading the passages. She's that good, and that's one pleasure I take from reading this book.

The characters are flawed, often excessively so, and the author makes no excuses for what they do or why. I especially find Lucy's change a little jarring, if not excusable, but so far she's my favorite character in the book. The rest can be horrifying, but they're also facing their own demons, scarred in their own ways. I don't need to accept them, I just have to understand them.

The book makes me feel so many different emotions at once. The first two thirds of the book is amazing, and pages just flow by despite early hesitation. The last part is a little slow, and I almost lose interest after the climax, but I barrel through. There are twists at the end that I appreciate and do not see coming, but overall, although it tells a harrowing journey splendidly, I wish it's packed more punch. I'm not sure what's missing, but I lose my ability to connect with Lucy or any of the other characters as the story progresses.

However, I'll still recommend this book - it's quite amazing.

(book) To All the Boys I've Loved Before by Jenny Han

First time reading Jenny Han!

First off - the cover's so cute. I love everything about it, from the marker-pen style title, the Korean girl with a dreamy look in her eyes, her room decor, her clothes, they fit everything the book says Lara Jean would be.

It is also the first book I read to bring up Korean-American culture. Granted, there's not much of K-pop and even Korean food and their traditions, but I think they summarize the life of a Korean-American teenager pretty accurately. Story wise, it tells the story of sisterhood and contract dating, which is so much like a K-drama it's amazing.

At first I had my reservations. Contract dating is a cliched way to carry a story, because we know how it begins and how it will end. However, the story's fluidly moving from scene to scene, and I begin to grow to love the boy as much as Lara Jean does. There are many accidents that sound too good to be true, or too coincidental, but overall I enjoy the book and pages just flow by in one sitting, and I don't want to stop.

Lara Jean is quirky cute. She's lovable even though she's sometimes annoying and her head's up in the clouds so much that I want to shake her. But she's almost your stereotypical K-drama character, a little odd, dramatic, with a tad bit of realism that keeps her grounded.

Despite that all, I wish Lara Jean's relationship with Margot is developed better. As much as I usually don't like epilogues, I would really love to have one for this book, to see how everybody's doing, to see more of a conclusion instead of the open ending.

A full 3.5 stars out of 5.

Rupa-rupa wajah penulis

Sejak dulu saya percaya bahwa seorang penulis memiliki berbagai 'wajah'. Awalnya, memang sulit menemukan wajah yang nantinya akan menjadi ciri khas seorang penulis. Saya pun demikian. Gaya menulis dan pilihan kata saya berubah-ubah, tergantung dari apa yang baru saja saya baca, penulis dan buku yang saya idolakan, sampai 'wajah' yang ingin saya adopsi dan gunakan. Tapi, pada akhirnya 'wajah' sendirilah yang akan muncul, dan tetap bertahan. Setidaknya, demikianlah yang terjadi pada saya.

Proses menemukan jati diri ini butuh jatuh bangun, entah berapa banyaknya kritik. Kritik membuat saya sadar, mungkin jati diri ini masih butuh banyak dipoles. Mungkin ia bukan jati diri yang tepat buat saya. Mungkin juga, jati diri ini sudah benar, namun belum cukup mantap. Pujian mengukuhkan sedikit jati diri yang perlahan-lahan terbentuk. Dari langkah-langkah goyah, akhirnya saya menemukan 'wajah' sebenarnya. Bagaimana cara mengetahui itu adalah 'wajah' yang tepat? Percayalah, saat kamu menemukannya, kamu akan tahu.

'Wajah' menulis saya sejauh ini adalah lembut, dengan kesan polos khas remaja yang menyinggung hal-hal berbau romansa, cinta pertama dan persahabatan. Hal itu terefleksikan dalam pilihan diksi, yang tidak pernah terlalu ruwet, karena saya memang pada dasarnya tidak pandai menulis dalam bahasa Indonesia. Dulu, waktu mulai menulis pertama kalinya, saya memulai dengan bahasa kedua saya yang lebih aktif digunakan, yaitu bahasa Inggris. Saya ingat banyak kritik yang dituai akibatnya - kurang menghargai bahasa Ibu, kurang lokalitasnya, dan masih banyak lagi. Jadi jika ada yang berkata bahasa yang saya gunakan enak dibaca karena sederhana dan mudah dipahami, sekarang kamu tahu alasannya :) Tapi, saya rasa, sedikit banyak pemakaian kata dan bahasa tersebut juga membantu mendefinisikan 'wajah' seorang penulis. Seperti Nina Ardianti pernah menulis dalam resensi novel Melbourne: Rewind, karya tulis seseorang mungkin memang mendeskripsikan sang penulis. Penulis yang ceria akan bercerita dengan riuh pula. Mungkin demikian, saya juga percaya itu.

Kembali lagi ke rupa-rupa wajah. Saya mulai tidak puas. Rupanya, ada 'wajah' lain yang belum tuntas terungkap. Awalnya, sisi gelap dari diri saya tersebut muncul lewat cerita-cerita pendek yang saya tulis di komunitas dan blog. Kemudian, saya mulai mengeksplorasi sisi tersebut lewat novella, yang kemudian dibukukan menjadi Unforgettable. Menurut Christian Simamora yang dulu mengedit naskah tersebut, naskah yang kali ini agak dark, ya. Dan saya setuju.

Jujur, memiliki wajah yang berbeda juga mempunyai resiko tersendiri. Pembaca yang sudah terbiasa dengan ciri khas seorang penulis mengharapkan konsistensi tersebut atau berekspektasi akan menemukan hal yang sama dalam karya-karya baru penulis. Bisa jadi, pembaca terkejut dan suka dengan sisi baru penulisnya, bisa juga justru tak suka dan berubah kecewa. Saya menghadapi keduanya. Ada yang tidak menyukai karya saya yang 'manis' dan menyukai perubahan ini, ada juga yang membencinya. Both are fine for me.

Pada dasarnya, saya hanya senang menemukan berbagai rupa 'wajah' menulis saya. It's like finding secrets on your own, a discovery that you've never known you're able to do. Sama halnya seperti menemukan kecintaan menulis dalam dua atau lebih genre berbeda. Sejak saat itu, saya bertukar-tukar gaya tulis dan genre, sesuai dengan perasaan hati dan aura proyek yang ingin saya kerjakan.

There are no limits. James Patterson bisa menulis thriller dan kisah cinta dalam dua novel yang bagai langit dan bumi. Windry Ramadhina awalnya menulis contemporary romance, lalu mendobrak tren dengan Metropolis yang terkesan misterius. Sefryana Khairil adalah penulis teenlit, yang sekarang menulis romansa kehidupan domestik dan dewasa. Ada juga yang tetap mempertahankan dan terus memoles wajahnya - Alexandra Potter dan Sophie Kinsella terus berkutat pada chicklit, Jodi Picoult pada tema-tema rumit kehidupan dewasa.

Bagaimana dengan saya? Well, I'm not sure yet. Saya ingin terus menemukan rupa yang berbeda dalam perjalanan menulis saya, dan mengejutkan pembaca sekaligus diri sendiri selagi melakukannya.

Picture taken from jamigold.com

Mo (bagian 1)

Nama perempuan itu Mo.

Kami bertemu di depan sebuah toko buku bekas di dekat rumahku, yang kebetulan juga sejalan ke tempat kosnya. Toko buku itu persisnya bukan sebuah gerai yang menjual buku; malah menurutku lebih persis seperti rumah tinggal sempit berlantai dua, dengan lantai dasar yang dijejali penuh dengan buku, menumpuk di lantai, teras rumah, dan pekarangan tempat sebuah motor usang terparkir. Tamu-tamu yang lewat dapat mencomot sebuah buku yang menarik perhatian begitu saja, kemudian membawanya pulang, dan kembali dengan dua pilihan – membayar dengan harga yang dianggap wajar jika ingin menyimpan temuan mereka, atau mengembalikannya jika tidak puas. Semudah itu. Pada umumnya, buku-buku mengumpulkan debu, atau hanya dibolak-balik pejalan kaki yang iseng dan penasaran.

Buatku sendiri, toko buku itu adalah surga dunia. Aku seringkali menemukan jilid-jilid langka, dijadikan alas gelas atau tempat tidur siang kucing ras kampung milik pemiliknya, Pak Danu. Biasanya aku membayar seadanya, berapa lembar rupiah pun yang kumiliki dalam dompet. Tapi biasanya, Pak Danu cukup bermurah hati untuk menghadiahkannya kepadaku. Buat satu-satunya pelanggan tetap, katanya.

Tapi, akhir-akhir ini tambah satu pelanggan tetap di toko mungil itu. Perempuan yang kerap kali bercelana pendek sobek-sobek, kaus lusuh dan rambut acak-acakan yang tertutup topi baseball merah. Dia lewat setiap sore. Gemerincing gelang kakinya yang riuh selalu membuat kucing Pak Danu mengangkat sebelah telinga sebelum kembali mendengkur halus. Suaranya yang cempreng membuat kucing itu bangkit, menjilati tubuh, dan berlari keluar. Mo akan menghabiskan waktu membaca di ‘rumah baca gratis’ sampai malam, lalu pulang. Begitu setiap hari.

Ketika ditanya kenapa tidak membawa buku-buku pilihannya pulang saja seperti orang-orang lain, dia hanya tersenyum sumringah, memperlihatkan kedua gigi depannya yang besar-besar dan memiliki rongga kosong di tengah. “Nggak. Enakan baca di sini,” kilahnya. Padahal, tempat itu tak ber-AC, apalagi berkipas. Duduk setengah jam di sana cukup membuatku mengipasi diri karena gerah, dan rela bertahan hanya demi kecintaanku pada buku, terutama buku-buku gratis.

Jadilah, dia dan aku berbagi ruang sempit di rumah Pak Danu. Hanya sepetak tanah, dengan ribuan buku-buku tua, dan dua sosok orang yang seringkali tak sengaja berhimpitan, atau bersenggol lengan. Biasanya dia terlalu asyik dalam bacaannya untuk meminta maaf, atau mendongak. Hanya suatu kali, ketika ponselku tiba-tiba berdering di sela sunyi dan derik jangkrik malam, baru dia mengangkat kepala, terlihat seolah baru tersadar dari mimpi manis.

Aku menjawab panggilan dengan terburu-buru, merasa terusik sekaligus tak nyaman karena diamatinya sedemikian rupa. Kurasa mungkin itulah kali pertama dia benar-benar memperhatikanku, orang yang berbagi ruang bersamanya selama berminggu-minggu. Padahal, aku sudah sering terang-terangan memelototinya karena acap kali membaca apa pun yang ada di tangannya keras-keras, atau terbahak ketika melewati paragraf yang lucu.

Saat aku menutup telepon, Mo tersenyum kecil. “Pacarmu, ya?”

Eh. Dia pasti mendengar teriakan wanita itu di telingaku. KAPAN PULANG??! Ibuku memang suka membesar-besarkan masalah.

Aku menggeleng, singkat. Pun tak berniat mengelaborasi gestur itu. Bukannya membaca gerak-gerikku, dia malah mengulurkan sebelah tangan untuk mengangkat buku yang kupegang.

“Heh, kamu baca Mitch Albom?”

Aku menarik bukuku menjauh, tersinggung. “Bukannya semua orang baca Mitch Albom?” Karya terbarunya tentang waktu adalah novelisasi pelajaran hidup yang berharga. Sama seperti The Gift karya Cecilia Ahern, yang sayangnya lebih sering dikategorikan sebagai chicklit ketimbang buku inspirasional yang sensasional.

Kembali ke Mo. Dia mengangkat bahu. “Aku enggak.” Kenapa? “Terlalu berteori. Padahal, hidup nggak ada teorinya, kan?”

“Justru dia berbagi pengalaman, supaya orang lain punya pencerahan yang sama.”

Dia mengerutkan hidung, tak setuju. “Pengalaman hidup setiap orang nggak akan pernah sama, apa pun topiknya. Itu bukan sesuatu yang bisa dipelajari dari orang lain, apalagi buku. Kita harus melewatinya sendiri, baru bisa mempelajari maknanya.”

Entah bagaimana, diskusi kami berlanjut hingga ke warung bakso di depan toko Pak Danu. Di sela-sela seruputan kuah dan suapan baksonya, Mo masih sempat berargumen tentang petuah dalam buku versus pengalaman pribadi yang (menurutnya) tak terkalahkan. Baginya, membaca buku adalah sesuatu yang menyenangkan, hiburan, bukan untuk mendapat pencerahan.

Debat itu berlangsung empat puluh menit dan empat teh botol dingin kemudian. Dia lebih banyak tertawa dari orang-orang yang kukenal. Ketika tertawa, kepalanya terdorong ke belakang dan suaranya membahana, tanpa kendali dan semu malu yang biasa menyertai tindakan lepas kontrol. Dia melakukannya lagi dan lagi, tanpa merasa perlu untuk meminta maaf. Lucunya, ada sesuatu yang membuatku turut tersenyum saat menyaksikannya.

Dia seorang model. “Bukan model fashion yang di majalah-majalah gitu,” sanggahnya. “Tapi model tangan, kaki, rambut. Apa pun yang bisa dimodelin.” Dia terkekeh lagi. Kalau diperhatikan, bagian-bagian tubuhnya memang proporsional. Jemarinya lentik, seperti milik pianis terlatih. Kakinya cukup panjang, meskipun tubuhnya kecil. Lehernya pun jenjang, seperti seorang balerina. Wajahnya oval, dengan lesung pipit samar di ujung kedua sudut bibir, mata yang ekspresif, dan kulit cerah. Rambutnya sering berganti model dan warna – sesuai pekerjaannya.

Malam itu, kami bertolak ke arah yang berlawanan, dan kali ini mengakhiri pertemuan dengan ucapan sampai ketemu lagi.

**

Beauty Stuffs from Luxola

It's been a while since I wrote fashion and beauty articles, or even lifestyle articles on and offline. I used to work as a part time journalist, filling columns for an in-house magazine and also a community called Fasity.com started by my good friend Vilia Ciputra.

I kinda miss it, actually.

Now that I have some new beauty products I just got from Luxola, I think this might be the perfect time to start doing so again.

Note: everything's purchased from Luxola.com, and images are taken from the website.

Zoeva Graphic Eyes + (Close to Heaven)

Rp. 87 000

This is one of my first purchases from Luxola, and having never heard of the brand Zoeva before, I was a little doubtful. But the price tag plus the flash sale discount eventually made me add this to my cart, and tried it as soon as it arrived.

The color is lilac - a little too bright for me, as when I wear it in daylight I look too made up and bright-eyed, like I'm going clubbing. With my fair skin, the shade pops out too much, so I don't think it's appropriate for everyday office-use. However, it'll look perfect for hangouts, parties and when I'm in the mood for a fun color.

The texture is super creamy and smooth, it glides so naturally on the eyelids and doesn't smudge when I blink too much or after a few hours use. Usually the waterproof liner I use disappears completely when I go back from work, even though I apply a generous amount in the morning.

Overall, an okay buy - but only because the color does not suit me too much. Everything else from quality to packaging is just lovely.

Crazy Rumors Bubblegum Lip Balm

Rp. 60 900

I'm a big fan of bubblegum flavor/scent, and I used to have this lip balm during my teenage years that smelled exactly like one, and I couldn't stop using it.

This one is vegan, and does not exactly taste like bubblegum, but indeed smells like one. The scent is not as strong as the one I used to have, but it was more natural-smelling. It helps hydrate my often dry lips, but has to be reapplied after some time.

The packaging is this cute little tube with soft pink colors - which is the main thing I love about this product. Very affordable, too. I don't seem to be able to find Vaseline or Banana Boat lip balms (which are the best and most hydrating, in my opinion) anymore, so this stays on the pouch in my everyday carry-all bag for easy use. There are also other yummy flavors/scents to try!

Zoeva Graphic Eyes + (Nude Reflection)

Rp. 87 000

This is the happiest make up purchase I've had in a long time. Out of the five products I purchased from Luxola, this one's the best.

I've raved about the packaging and texture of Zoeva Graphic Eyes+ before, but the color is what makes me want to collect all shades Zoeva has, which unfortunately are not available in Luxola and have to be purchased online from Germany.

The creamy shade looks amazing - it's nude but shimmery, therefore it pops and brightens the eyes. I have relatively small eyes that look tired without eyeliners, but as soon as my eyes get reflected by the light, they look made up without being excessively so, which is a good thing in my dictionary.

From first sight, I thought it'd be darker than the nude shade it mentioned it would be. But on first swatch, it just looked wonderful!


Will repurchase when mine runs out.

Laqa & Qo - Lil Lip Duo: Wolfman and Fairy Blood

Rp. 234 900

I'm ambivalent about lip products. On one hand I love pink shades on the lips, but don't actually wear lipsticks/glosses often. But as these come in tiny tubes, I thought I'd give them a try.

Out of the two, Fairy Blood suits me better. Wolfman is a pale pink shade that makes fair skin looks sickly and paler than it actually is, although I've seen it look beautiful on models who opt for a nude look. Fairy Blood is coral pink, and it does make my whole face look more alive instead of pale like it usually is.

The packaging is cute and tiny, with little tube sticks that look like kid crayons and can be tucked in the pouch of your bag to carry everywhere. When applied, the lipstick looks slightly chalky, although very easy to use. The texture is not as smooth as your average lipstick. Despite that, I find it to be quite moist and not very dry at all.


Might not repurchase, but a nice fit to add to my pink lipstick collections. Travel friendly. The price, not so much.

Maybelline Color Show: Shiny Beige Eyeliner 

Rp. 78 300

My last purchase of the day.

I'm a big fan of eyeliners, and I use them more often than shadows to make my eyes look more pronounced. That being said, I don't love deep dark colors so much, and I'm curious about the new nude shades.

However, the nude does not show that much when I applied it several times. I know that's the whole point of nude shade, but I expect it to brighten my eyes or at least look glowy.

I might be able to use it for the corners of my eyes for a subtle look, but that's about it.