Just the other day, it happened again.
For the most part, I lead a quiet, bookish life. I write and read all day and all night, taking liberal breaks to feed and water my little dog, to pamper my little dog, and to take my little dog on walks around the neighborhood. Typically, the only changes to this little arrangement are fair…
Although it was entirely unplanned, it seems only fitting that I kicked off what turns out to be National Library Week with a visit to a library book sale.
Every time the days of a month reach the twenties, every time the end of the month is suddenly in view, I immediately start taking stock of the month that's ending and looking ahead to the upcoming month. The change from March to April, for instance, marks the one-quarter mark of my reading …
A bookish friend recently noted that there’s usually precious little critical attention given to the fact that the massive retailer Amazon begins each month with a list of ten recommendations made by a group of the website’s editors. Considering the sheer power of the site—the world’s larges…
For a very long time, I brought a book with me wherever I went. Just the weight of it in my cupped hand or a side-pouch of my shoulder bag was immeasurably comforting; I knew that I was invulnerable to stalls and delays, that I was only one quick gesture away from as totally reliable escape …
I recently encountered a small mountain of boxes filled with books, a wide array of miscellaneous books in a variety of physical shapes and sizes (and conditions – several of them had obviously spent a great deal of time in boxes, in basements, in attics, or the like), exactly the kind of mo…