Several months ago, I wrote a sort-of review of Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children. I loved that book and I’ve been tapping my foot in impatience for the second installment (he’s releasing his third book some time this month but it’s non-fiction) since that post. Where is it Ransom Riggs? I still don’t have a copy, by the way, and I don’t do well with waiting.
Anyway, after posting my rather positive opinion on the hauntingly delightful bestseller, someone from Quirk Books, Ransom Riggs’ publisher, replied. At first I thought it was a joke. I’ve fallen into scams on more than one occasion before, but nothing too serious. He gave me his e-mail address, telling me to leave him a message. After some contemplation (about 10 minutes), I decided to go for it. There was no nudity, I didn’t have to give any money; I didn’t have to reveal any personal information. He had a Quirk Books e-mail and that validated my decision. Pretty soon, we were exchanging messages and he told me he was sending me an autographed poster. A whoop and a yell! I replied saying that I was from the Philippines which could present some issues with the shipping and he gallantly told me it would be no problem although it might take a bit more time.
Truth be told, I had totally forgotten about it. That conversation was in July and after anticipating the mail for a week, I realized I had other things to do. Last week, when our security guard handed me a large envelope, I ignored it until I caught a glimpse of my name. I’m part of the generation which only knows about snail mail in theory. Let me just say that the feeling of receiving something in the mail that’s not billing or an ad or a subscription is indescribable. Snail mail is a long lost art and I’ve forgotten what it felt like. Or rather, I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to feel like.
Ransom Riggs, where is your next Miss Peregrine book? I miss Jacob already!