A million thoughts are buzzing through my head right now, not the least of which is the fact that I’ve been a bit uninspired lately. Due to a prolonged nasty cold (it’s been going on for a torturous two weeks) I’ve not been able to conduct my usual writing rituals. For whatever reason, I can’t write at home. I need to go to a cafe, sip a latte, let the words flow. And lately, that’s just not been possible. It’s led to a strange state of limbo that I’m trying to ignore right now (cross legged in a chair, trying to ignore the sounds of our house).
Because I’ve been sick, there hasn’t been much to do. The first couple days of any sickness, you lounge on the couch and indulge in it. Drink tea and chicken soup, burrow into blankets and pillows and watch terrible television. Any longer than that, I find myself longing to go for a walk … to rejoin the living outside of my house. I know, dramatic, but I’ve literally left my house only a handful of times in the last couple of weeks.
Anyway, I found myself looking through old books the husband had just brought out and prominently placed on a new shelf in the living room. Despite the fact that I own a Kindle, an iPad, an iPhone and two computers, I have lots of books I would/could never part with. The idea of the e-book seems polarizing to voracious readers and I was/am reluctant to part with the comfort of being lost inside my favorite bookstore. But hey, when you’re commuting, lugging along a 1000 page book seems less attractive than a skinny little Kindle that can hold three different trilogies without breaking my back. And so for a good while, I’ve been buying books on the Kindle and borrowing books from the library.
Today though, as I flipped through books I found a few unexpected pleasures: tiny writing in margins I had notated unknown years ago, a book with a sticky note inside the cover with the following “Be wary, then. Best safety lies in fear.”, a handwritten excerpt from the bible (I read it at a friends wedding 15+ years ago) and an envelope from a postcard sent to me by Raymond Carver’s widow (that’s another post). I was reminded that I used to collect pre-1900 editions of Shakespeare’s play and I had a hard time grasping that the edition of As You Like It I held in my hand was published back in 1899*. I have to tell you, I don’t see myself looking back at notes I’ve made on my Kindle years from now (that would assume that I even use the notations). And I started to think about what I might be missing by not buying quite as many books (aside from supporting independent book sellers and authors themselves) selfishly. What charming, surprising discoveries I might be missing.
And so, tonight I just ordered two books from Alibris. I love this site because they allow you to browse the shelves of independent booksellers from across the country AND find out-of-print and rare books. I’ve bought several books I loved as a child for D here that I would never otherwise have been able to find. And on Tuesday, I’m going to march myself right down to Elliott Bay (health willing!), buy Haruki Murakami’s new book, 1Q84 and am going to sit and leaf through those pages while sipping a latte and enjoying the tactile nature of a book you can hold in your hand.
*Notice the unusual spelling of Shakespeare? At first I thought it might be an error, but it’s consistently used throughout the book. It turns out that it’s not uncommon.
