Library Love Affair

I love the feeling of sliding my fingers along their textured backs - some plastic and shiny, some weathered and scratchy. Their titles make their best sales pitches, begging to be added to my pile. But the strict librarian with the wrinkled lips and salt and pepper hair says five books is the limit, so choosy I must be. When at last my selection is made, I stumble like a child up to the counter with the weight of my imagination candy pressing down on my arms. The counter suddenly seems too tall for me. My eyes reach the grains of the wood paneling and I peer over the edge at the intimidating keeper of the books. My mind races back to my childhood as the librarian opens the cover of each book and pulls out a piece of cream card-stock, tattooed with red and black dates. With the emergence of computerized high tech libraries, I haven't seen one of those in years. The old practice is endearing and strangely intimate. The librarian juices up the rubber in the ink and pounds the card with the contractual date - SEPT 12 2010. Thumping sounds echo on the walls five more times and she pushes the stack toward me with a smile. With my new friends and lands pressed hard against my chest, I walk home anxious to meet them.



Can you imagine a life without books? I've read about and talked to friends who have lived in countries where literature is censored. I have a hard time comprehending not having access to ideas through the written word. Ink on paper has shaped so much of what I am - what I believe. And I'm so grateful for that.

With my new-found vagabond lifestyle, I'm devouring a lot more books. I'm reading about a book and a half a week and absolutely loving it. I'm not sure Blair always loves seeing a book in front of my lips, but what's a girl to do? I suppose I need to pick up a few more hobbies.

Today I read A Certain Slant Of Light and love, love, loved it. If you're sensitive to a bit of swearing and sensuality this might not be the book for you. Sadly I think I'm a tad desensitized to this and I brush over most of the gunk pretty easily - this may not be an admirable characteristic. But it was such a sweet story about death and love. I can't get it out of my mind. Up next is Sea Glass by Anita Shreve. Has anyone else read this? I have absolutely no idea what it's about. The pages just looked crusty and worn, so naturally I assumed it was a loved treasure. I hope I wasn't mistaken.

Happy reading, folks.

Love,

me