Last week, a friend came over to my place for lunch. She hadn’t been over before, and in fact, I don’t think visited my last apartment, either. It was a bit of a surprise to her, I think, to see my shelves and shelves of books. They surrounded us as we sat on my couch and chatted, so naturally we wound up talking about them.
She bemoaned the fact that most of her books are currently in storage, and said she’d been thinking about getting an ereader of some sort, but that seeing my collection made her remember the things she liked about physical books. The sensory input of turning a page, of seeing the cover every time you pick it up, of having the books on display as a design element in the room, the smell of an old book, that sort of thing.
It made me smile. This is the sort of person I roadie for. She gets it.
People who hear about my books and say, “so when are you getting a Kindle?” don’t get it. People who say “ooooh, now’s a perfect time to cull your books!” when you mention you’re moving don’t get it. Folks who have never walked into a used bookstore and closed their eyes and breathed deep with a blissful smile don’t get it.
They are not my Right People, to use one of Havi’s words.
And that’s okay! Not everyone has to be a bibliophile.
But for those folks who get it, I am here to say, Awesome, dude. I get it too. Let’s do this.