I’ve fallen in love…with a bunch of books.
Our last family trip to Hood Canal just last week for the Fourth of July proved itself fruitful in more ways than one. In addition to reliving childhood memories of watching fireworks boom over the Sound for hours on end, my lust for literature was once again rekindled upon discovering, or more appropriately, noticing, the extensive library of books my grandparents kept at the house that I’d never appreciated until that very moment.
The books were everywhere! All the great authors, all the classic stories, overflowing from every bookshelf I could find. Historical, political, fictional, fantastical. It was a veritable treasure trove. How had I never paid attention to these gorgeous hardbacks before? I could only wonder.
I yanked them greedily off the shelves, thankful for the lack of a WiFi connection and simultaneously discouraged by the fact that I’d only have three days in such a tranquil, distraction-free environment.
The house had just sold, though, so with a little sweet-talking I convinced my family that I’d only take a few, we had to clean the house out anyway, and I’m sure no one else will want these!
They’re now safely in my possession at home, though I’d ordered another book not long before our trip which I had yet to read, so they are still sitting idly, looking gorgeous and sending my heart aflutter at every glance.
I’ve been known at times as the World’s Slowest Reader, so the likelihood of me finishing these books before I head off traveling again is slim, but at the very least I plan to do a thorough skimming of as many as I can. I’d never risk taking them with me, as they are in such amazing condition and I plan to keep them until that someday many years down the road when I can gift them to children of my own.
The top book in the photo above is my current read, a recommendation from a friend as well as a title I’ve seen on many lists of Books to Read Before You Die and the like.
My first undertaking once I finish Perfume will likely be For Whom The Bell Tolls, as I just recently read my first Hemingway a few months ago and have been itching to read more of his work since then. And if his writing style is consistent from book to book, I should have no trouble finishing it despite its intimidating thickness.
Are you not completely enamored with these exquisite books? I especially adore the textured covers and author signatures that were obviously the style of the times. The above books were published in 1948, 1963, and 1940, respectively.
Kindle, schmindle. There’s so much more satisfaction to be found in feeling the weight of a book in my hands, the distinct smell of the aged paper, the turning of pages, the tangible progress as I near the end of the story. Give me real books any day!
And on that note, if anybody needs me…too bad.
Have you read any of these classics? Do you still read real books or are you on the ebook train?