I have reached the rather odd point in my life where I now buy books rather than borrowing from somewhere to read first. I’m not sure why this is odd. Perhaps it’s not. Perhaps everyone does that.
But I used to live with a book courier (a.k.a librarian-mother-who-would-bring-me-books) and spend a rather obscene amount of time in school libraries. I went to eleven different schools over the course of ten years. (Which, incidentally, is an interesting way to get an education. To my endless frustration I ended up studying modern war on three separate occasions and never ancient history — with which I was fascinated. My sister on the other hand hit ancient history several times. I’m not sure what gap in her education this caused, but at least I could borrow her books. And there was that one time I switched schools at just the right moment and was able to hand an assignment I’d written for one teacher to my new one, with no one the wiser.)
The truly brilliant thing about changing schools so much was the fact that every time there was a new library. And I’d go through it in about a year and be all ‘next please’. I don’t think the fact that I ran out of things to read had anything to do with the regularity with which I changed schools, but at the time I certainly would have found it a valid reason.
The thing is, I’ve graduated now, leaving behind even my tertiary libraries (four schools in eleven years — good god). Tertiary libraries are delightful, delightful things that I never come close to reading my way completely through. But I graduated. I did. I remember it clearly. And I’m not going back any time soon. So. I don’t… have a library.
Before you ask, yes, I understand about public libraries. I’ve been to a number of them. They seem perfectly charming. But, you see, you have to go there. When you’re at school, in one way or another, they’re just about. And if you’re me, the books sort of lure you in like the smell of freshly baked bread.
Now the closest library is my house, and I’ve read all the books. Actually, that’s a filthy lie. But the only reason I haven’t is because I keep buying them. So I have this fear, that this is going to happen:
Kandace Mavrick
Paul McLaughlan
Wendy White
10/02/2012
I am also still buying faster than I can read… That said, the whole house burning down three years ago thing means it’ll be a while before I reach book explosion point!
Kandace Mavrick
10/02/2012
That’s… I have very conflicted responses to that. Like, it’s good that your books aren’t ready to crush you to death yet, but losing them to fire is… kind of appalling. Fire is scary.
Wendy White
10/02/2012
On the positive side, books burn clean! DVDs, on the other hand, make for rather nasty smoke!
Still have trouble understanding just how the microwave managed to completely melt to a pancake during it all. You’d think they’d have more high melting point components than not…
Also, given the cat was in the room with it and did not, thankfully, melt, is of some puzzlement. Fires are complex beasties!
Kandace Mavrick
10/02/2012
The cat clearly played one of it’s life cards. The microwave didn’t have enough hit points. Weakened by radiation.
arkayspark
10/02/2012
Now we have 8000 books or maybe a few more… We stopped counting a few years ago. And ostensibly tried to stop buying them. We do throw out some ( to our church fair) but we also acquire some ( from the church fair, from writing festivals, from the uni throw outs , when we go into bookshops to buy presents….). So almost every room in the house has book shelves..and shelves.
And the idea of a fire!
Kandace Mavrick
10/02/2012
Right? That picture makes me think of the study in the Mt Helena house with the stacks of books all over the floor. I always figured the only reason the stacks never tumbled down into chaos was that they were buttressed by all the other stacks.
Probably my greatest fear as a child was the house catching on fire. Everything I loved was absurdly flammable.