Living with Books

I’ve always hated reading. I remember having to read 2001: A Space Odyssey for class. Not willing to read the book, I tried to read the CliffsNotes and failed. So I watched the film instead and fell asleep during the opening monkey scene. Needless to say, I failed the test.

My wife, on the other hand, grew up in a family of book lovers. Her brother was a huge influence on her, and in turn, she bought me my first book as an adult: a children’s Christmas story called Auggie Wren’s Christmas. She eventually introduced me to Milan Kundera, Paul Auster, and Murakami.

Over the years, we’ve amassed a large collection. We’ve moved 11 times in our adult lives, and the hardest things to pack were always the books. It’s something that doesn’t translate digitally. Yes, we have E-books and audiobooks, but physical copies have a sensibility, a tangible presence that is hard to replace with a digital version.

I’ve always loved the library and the bookstore. Even though I hated reading, I love browsing the collections. I love living with books, and I’ve realized that you don’t necessarily have to read every single page to feel the warmth and history they bring to a room. They make a space feel human.

article by BL