My husband and I lead quiet lives, more enamored by reading and the arts and introspection than most people around us. Our late-19th century home is cluttered with books and art projects.We like to read about history, art, architecture, politics, travel, culture and food. The history of science and engineering books are his. The self-help books, business and decorating books are mine. We have small collections within our collections: The homefront during World War I, biographies of presidents, labor history, Irish history and urban history in the middle ages.
He once remarked I have enough books on France to finance another trip there.
A few years ago my friend, T, bought me a box of old books at an auction. They belonged to the mother of Sara, one of my first role models, a lovely and fiesty lady who died five years ago. Those books joined several given to me by my late mother-in-law, Margaret, and my late aunt and godmother, Dorothy.
We have a tall bookcase in the living room, and books tumble from it. We have a glass door bookcase in the front hall and a barrister's case in the dining room. There is a mission style book case in the room off the kitchen, and two in the ziggy-zaggy upstairs hallway. There are two in the spare room, and one in the room tucked away under sloping ceilings. That room has floor to ceiling buit-in bookcases, too. So does the room off the kitchen and the master bedroom.
Books, books, books! We have more books than money, certainly.
But that's OK.
Sadly, I think we are oddities in this town we live in. The bookstore owners across town and a smattering of others share our passion for the written word. It makes it difficult to establish close friendships. Non-readers need not apply.
I imagine that sounds snobbish to some. I suppose it is. But I cannot summon up much passion for football or NASCAR or "Dancing with the Stars" or whatever other obsessions make up popular culture today. Neither can my husband, although he routinely cheers for Notre Dame and Michigan while I root for the Badgers.
There are simply some things in life I will not do, would not ever do, like drink too much beer and drive, or bear a child without benefit of marriage, or cheat someone or lie to someone else. But I will read in the quiet of my own home. And I will read all manner of opinion.
And I will talk, talk with a chosen few, about what I have read and I will celebrate ideas and enlightenment.
If that makes me a snob, well, that's fine with me.
Mimi, In the past, I've been made to feel ashamed of my book world. By non-readers, naturally. Now I embrace it - even flaunt it! I bring coffee table books to work to comfort me and bring beauty on my lunch hour. Last week I cleaned and rearranged my bookshelves with the hopes of eliminating some books. Out of 3K books, one made the cut. But it was ok, I had another copy upstairs! LOL!
ReplyDeleteI know the feeling, Emilyatheart. My mother has been ridiculed by a friend for years for reading. Finally my mother got wise and just hung up on the friend one day! She has not called her since. I flaunt it, too, now that I am older and I hope, wiser.
ReplyDeleteI empathize Mimi. We are book hounds too, Mr CC and I. One of the first things we do when visiting a city is find the used bookstores, then the local indies. When we spent 6 weeks in Europe, the first thing we did upon arrival in Amsterdam was to buy books and ship them home. Fortunately for us, we have a few friends who share our passion although only one couple lives close by. I fear for the society of non-readers that is quickly forming before our eyes.
ReplyDeleteYes, we do the same thing, Christine! Every time we travel, a bookstore is our first stop (usually because we read an entire book on the plane). Last time in Paris, our first stop was the Red Wheelbarrow near Village St. Paul. Between food and books, its no wonder we had to pay "heavy" charges last time. How can one live without reading?
ReplyDelete