About this time last year, I lost my interest in books for a while. I remember sitting by my daughter’s hospital bed trying very hard to read a book because I had to do something, but having a horrible time trying to concentrate on the words. I am pleased–no THRILLED– to report that my interest in books and the joy of reading is back. Once again, I can proudly say that I am a bookaholic.
Hello, my name is Sherry, and I am a bookaholic.
Not that this should come as any big surprise to the people who know me, but there have been times in my life when I’ve tried to minimize this intense love of books that some people might consider a bit obsessive. For one thing, I have trouble admitting aloud how large my TBR (To Be Read, for those who don’t know) stack is. Let’s just say that “stack” doesn’t even come close to describing it.
Yes, I know that libraries exist, and I love and support them. I just don’t like getting my books from them because…well, because then you have to give them back! There’s something wrong with that in my head. I’m all for picking up as many books as I can carry and walking out the door with them. It’s the taking them back part that gives me trouble. So I rarely visit the library and I buy way too many books. So sue me. There are worse things I could do!
There are times when nothing will make me feel better than a trip to the bookstore. I just love the smell of books. I love wandering up and down rows of books, looking at the dust jackets or cover art, wondering what treasures each one holds inside. I love opening a new book. I love the feel of the paper under my fingers and the sound of the pages turning.
I love my old, favorite books–the ones I’ve read more than once, in spite of the fact that I have so many books in my TBR “stack” that I will probably be an old woman before I finish reading the ones I own now. I love a well-thumbed book–if I am the one who has thumbed it.
My oldest daughter, Valerie, said one day that the reason she has trouble borrowing books is because once she’s read the book it becomes part of her soul. (Yes, she has the heart of a poet!) I think I must feel something very similar, even though I’ve never managed to actually put it in words before. I stopped trying after she said that. I just didn’t think I’d find words that were any better.