To read the story, please click on the chapters below:
‘A Valentine’s Day
Story’ begins just as every other Elveren narrative that I have had the good
fortune of reading on account of my *cough* Honorary *cough* role as first
level proofreader for young master Wadiwala: with a leisurely panache that sets
the tone for the rest of the tale and assures the reader of this being no more
an amateur piece of literature, than is any of P.G.W.(the original)’s
noteworthy works.
What it also assures
the insensitive and ungrateful audience of is that what is to follow demands
from them, one and only one thing in return- to enjoy the story.
Surely that is no big
ask, is it now?
Well of course, I
must admit that to relish this manner of mature and deft story-telling, one
would have to set aside all that is arduous and crippling, harrying and
suffocating and- not to mention- outright boring, in his life. One would need
to shed all that worries him, all that ticks him off and all that makes him
want to smash his head through a six-inch thick concrete wall, before he is in
any position to enjoy the tale.
In fact, let me do
the honour of going a step further and describing to you, oh hardhearted
reader, the most appropriate setting for reading an Elveren adventure, which
is- sunset, at the beach, next to the waves, on a recliner, chilled Pina colada
in one hand and a print of the story in the other.
Enticing enough, no?
And yet I must state
to you, with tremendous sadness, that there are so few a people who give a damn
and there are so many who are so quick to move on without paying heed to such
an undemanding request as is, of this talented writer.
A simple request to just read what he is offering to you for free, even when what he is offering is, essentially, a premium piece of literature that deserves accolades equivalent or greater than those heaped upon the public school storytellers from the glorious days of our literary past.
A simple request to just read what he is offering to you for free, even when what he is offering is, essentially, a premium piece of literature that deserves accolades equivalent or greater than those heaped upon the public school storytellers from the glorious days of our literary past.
And fucking
Cheat’n’Bugger is a bestseller for people! The horror!
Alright. I see ire seeping into my wordage. So let me finish the review before the good stuff gets drowned in the filth.
Aided by a select
handful of premise-perfect illustrations that etch certain lines, scenes and
character descriptions into your brain with most singular precision, the author
once again provides, for our entertainment, a breezy peek into the 'Wodehouse-esque' universe of Midgard-Caledonia with its peculiar inhabitants and their
peculiarly idiosyncratic doings that result into some of the wittiest dialogues
I have come across in my readings.
And what more! Love
is in the air this time around, what with the tale being set against that
auspicious mid-February phenomenon we call as Valentine’s Day, which, more
often than not, leaves a trail of broken hearts in its wake.
And thus, Jormund Elver, our unlikely hero- whom I am sure you will get to see more of if young master Wadiwala obliges and who I have come to consider as the perfect specimen of a colourful albeit clumsy Sagittarian- finds himself being dragged into another adolescent love triangle that is commonplace in life at Midgard-Caledonia High School.
If you are no
stranger to Jormund’s world, I do not see purpose in spilling the beans here as
you would be aware already how minor conflicts can turn gargantuan when the
bumbling Elver gets involved.
If you ARE a stranger, you need only be aware that minor conflicts can turn gargantuan when the bumbling Elver gets involved. Period. So let me not talk any more on the story.
But stranger or not-
rest assured, you are bound to have fun while reading this and you are bound to
feel light and airy from the inside after you’re done reading.
Maintaining an almost
stately poise in his flow, the author ensures that his character descriptions
are done lovingly enough to breathe life into both their features and flaws.
His portrayal of feminine beauty deserves a special mention here. It is
omniscient, to say the least and when considered alongwith the intermittent
pictorial insights, makes the frequency with which the male leads keep falling
head-over-heels in love seem all the more plausible.
Mind you, the
breeziness of the tale and other ancillary elements were not what appealed the
most to me. What did, was the unabashed love for writing and the astonishing
flair for language that the author possesses, such that each page of his
rib-tickling narrative stands out so vibrantly in the readers’ imagination,
making them ponder whether it is indeed a story that they are reading, or is it
actually a painting in disguise.
“What ho, old chap!”
I am addressing Perseus now, in his own Elveren greeting style.
“When will we
be served ‘Something Fresh’ from your writing lair? My frontal lobe aches in
anticipation mate!”
Disclaimer: Percy Wadiwala is a dear friend whom I- in my infrequent spells of optimism- like to think of as an actually intelligent version of myself. Though I may consider him as a mentor of sorts and turn to him for inspiration and advice from time to time, to think of this review as me trying to kiss his ass would only be the readers' own folly, causing him to miss out on something genuine. (Also I'm not sure if this helps but FYI, we've always gone Dutch so neither owes the other a penny for coercion or undue influence to enter the picture)
Bottom line is, just read the bloody story because its a bloody good one. Peace.