There’s a kind of ritual I’ve come to cherish, especially when a fresh stack of books arrives. It doesn’t involve reading, not yet. It begins much earlier, with scissors, contact paper, a bone folder, and a bit of quiet intention.
Yes, I wrap my books. And no, it’s not just about keeping them neat.
Earlier this week, I started on my November book haul. One down; Concept of a Hero in Malay Society by Shaharuddin Maaruf; and a dozen or so left to go. It’s slow work by design. Each book gets a few moments of attention, laid flat on the grid-lined cutting sheet, corners aligned just so. The plastic sleeve goes on carefully. Air bubbles smoothed out. Edges pressed. It’s deliberate, meditative almost.
This first title felt like the right one to begin with. The cover alone, with its commanding image of a keris, speaks of legacy and cultural weight. Inside, the book examines the idea of heroism through a distinctly Malay lens, not just in epic figures, but in moral character, social duty, and inherited responsibility.
Books like this don’t just deserve to be read, they deserve to be kept, protected, passed on.
Which brings me to the final step of my bibliophilic ritual.
After each book is wrapped, I reach for my stamp. A soft press, a quiet imprint:
The Keris Collector – Singapore.
It’s not about ownership in the possessive sense. It’s about presence. A mark that says: this book has passed through my hands and was treated with care.
There’s something archival about it, like quietly curating a living library, each book preserved not only for its content, but for what it represents in the broader thread of cultural memory.
Not everyone goes to such lengths, and I don’t think they have to. Some readers let their books wear their age, cracked spines, dog-eared corners, faded covers. That has its own charm. But for me, this wrapping process is a small but meaningful way of showing respect.
And in a time where speed is everything, slowing down to wrap a single book, then stamping it, shelving it, feels like a quiet act of rebellion. Or at least, reverence.
One book at a time.
One story at a time.
Stamped and shelved with intention.