I really love to read. At the height of my reading career, probably around 10th grade, I was tearing through at least 3 books a week. Granted, these were mostly fantasy novels, but it serves to illustrate my point nonetheless.
Not only do I love to read, I love books. The smell of an ancient out-of-print volume in the public library is comparable to the smell of pine sap in the mountains in May. I could set up a cot and literally live inside of a used bookstore. I just got back from a two week trip - I left with 2 books, I came back with 8. I have more books than articles of clothing. And that statement is not qualified by how you define "article of clothing."
This passion for books causes some issues for me. First of all, I am nowhere near settled in my life, and every time I move I am struck by just HOW MANY there are, and just how much they weigh. I have sold, donated or otherwise given away dozens (possibly hundreds) of books each time I move, but they continue to accumulate. And I've decided I'm ok with this - my books are worth the extra headache on moving day.
But travel is another story. I am about to leave for a 3 month jaunt across the ocean, and of course there will be plenty of opportunity to read. Planes, trains, nights when I'm too tired to leave the hostel, cafés where I will really just be "reading" as a pretense for people watching. The idea of traveling, especially for so long, without any reading material is, in a word, unthinkable. But to carry enough books with me to last the trip is also completely ludicrous. Enter the nook. Not a book, but an acceptable replacement for the sake of lighter packing.
I'm not really sure how I feel about the kindle and the nook, the e-readers that threaten to make paper books a thing of the past. I don't truly believe this will ever happen, there are far too many individuals out there like me who see reading not just as an activity but a complete experience, one which requires the act of turning a page, the sound of the paper, the feel of it under your fingers. So, for the moment, I appreciate my nook for it's digital storage capacity, but little else.
As a true compromise, I decided to bring one paper book with me. I wondered what to bring for several weeks, polling friends, asking that English majors weigh in with their expert opinions. I finally decided on Catcher in the Rye. I read it in high school, and have wanted to revisit it for years, purely because of the almost visceral reaction it provoked in me. Although not necessarily an enjoyable reaction, I credit it to the excellence of the literature. So, when I moved after high school, Catcher was among the many books I gave to my local library.
I have been searching for a used copy of this book for the past month or so, with absolutely no success. I have a very romanticized idea in my mind of what a well-loved book looks like. Yellowed or worn with age, perhaps watermarked, dog-eared, coffee stains. Any of the above, really. And then, wonder of wonders, just such a book falls directly into my hands in Seattle. My lovely friend Blythe had a beautiful old copy of the book, and offered to lend it to me. My mind was immediately filled with visions of coffee spills, unexpected rainfall, the book leaping out of my bag to drown in the English Channel. No, no, I protested, knowing my clumsy self I would invariably lose or destroy this lovely little red book. In that case, take it as a gift, she said.
I cannot express in words how in love I am with this book. And I'm no longer afraid to dog ear it or drop it in the ocean (as long as I can fish it back out), because that will only give it more character.
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