I love to read. I love curling up around a book that absolutely won’t let you put it down, that draws you in and leaves you expectantly hanging as you […]
I love to read. I love curling up around a book that absolutely won’t let you put it down, that draws you in and leaves you expectantly hanging as you turn a page. Coming from Great Britain with its soggy weather, there are few greater pleasures in life than claiming an armchair and wrapping yourself up in a blanket, a cup of hot soup besides you and the book that finally arrived, after weeks of anxiously checking the post and debating whether kidnapping the postman’s children would speed up the delivery, sitting on your lap with its comforting weight.
I’m not a snob, I don’t just buy new, because I love the hunter joy of rummaging around secondhand book shops, breathing in the musty smell of old paper. I love finding the random notes and dedications of others on the inside pages of books, and getting that guilty just-stole-a-penny feeling of peeking into the life of someone else.
So many friends, aware of my love of reading, have suggested I treat myself to a Kindle: a light, pocket sized electronic product that would allow me to store up to 1,400 books, adjust text settings to suit my preferences. NOOOOOO! I resist, I sulk, I pout, I throw myself onto the floor and throw an epic tantrum (actually I don’t, but oh I wish I had the cojones to do so). I know it’s the last word in modern book reading, I know it’s the reason that more people are picking up reading as a hobby – which in itself is a wonderful thing, I know that it would be an amazing addition to my already impressive collection of electronic gizmos and gadgets. I just can’t do it, I can’t get past the mental block of reading a book in any other way than the comforting smell-the-paper way I know and love. Unless The Hublet sneakily follows this blog, in which case I wouldn’t be unhappy to get a Kindle in the next 12-months or so, once we get our kickass gaming situation sorted and do a rock-paper-scissors death match for which of us gets awarded the sparkly new PC and which of us gets the used, world weary PC.
All I’m going to do here is share my thoughts in a sort of review format on the books I’ve thoroughly enjoyed over the past couple of decades, the ones I’m able to pick up again and again with the same enjoyment I did the first time I discovered them, the ones that are old friends to me.