On Buying Books

Yesterday was the first day of the annual Urbana Free Library book sale. Surplus books are practically given away - one dollar will buy you a hardcover in good condition, or 3 mass-market paperbacks. I bought close to 25 books, including a Graham Greene collection, Richard Adams's Watership Down and Isaac Asimov's Black Widowers mysteries.

There are good reasons I shouldn't have gone to the sale: I don't have sufficient shelf space to store the books I already own, and the more books I own, the less time I spend doing anything besides reading. What's worse, I haven't even read all the books I bought in the last year! Given the abundance of excellent libraries around here, there's no reason for me to actually buy books. And yet... the annual sale of the Champaign Public Library will be held early next month, and I'll be there when it opens.

I'm not normally an acquisitive person, but I make an exception for books. There's ... something about a full shelf, running your finger along the tops of the books and pulling one out, deciding that this is the universe in which you will wander for the next few hours. There's something intensely pleasurable just in opening a book, whether you're trying something completely new or renewing your acquaintance with an old favourite, in the smell of the book, the way the paper feels when you turn a page, the weight of the book in your hands.

When I was young, how much I enjoyed visiting a family often had less to do with the people in it than it did with the books they possessed. (My sister claims this is still partly true!). I suspect this is partly why I buy so many books, especially those I've read and enjoyed in the past, but doubt I'll ever read again. I buy them for kids like me who could never find all the books they wanted, for whom finding a new book to love is a joy like no other.