I admit it. I am a bibliophile. Everything about books excite me--the size, texture, their smell. Words written on a page, telling a story, or conveying information is the highlight of my life. I can not imagine living in a world where I wouldn't know how to read or have no inclination to do so. I audibly gasped when I learned my sister does not own a dictionary. I have seven. I did have more, but when my children moved away, they insisted they had to take a dictionary or two with them. I was happy to relinquish for such a just cause.
Now in my sister's defense, it is not her fault she 'hates to read'-her words not mine. When she was in second grade, she was the slowest reader in 'the circle'. Her teacher was on her case constantly and she grew to hate reading as much as she did her teacher. So, as she grew older, she never took it to change the way she thought about words. It breaks my heart.
I get so much pleasure out of reading, I flatter myself into thinking everyone else in the world should too.
I read this morning about Alexander the Great. The text talked about the Library at Alexandria and its being burned. Everytime I think of that incident I get sick to my stomach, so much lost and absolutely nothing gained by that military debacle. So sad.
It doesn't matter in what state books are in, I love them. Over this past summer, I took several art classes involving altered books. I did fine working with the blank board books, but when they started cutting up real books--old dictionaries, readers, science books, etc.--I couldn't join in the fun. My heart literally ached at the sacrifice.
Now to someone who doesn't love and appreciate books, this will probably sound silly, no out right stupid, but to me, it is perfectly rational. I've talked to my friends about this silliness and they agree with me. We are writers. We know the value, the sacrifice, the possibilities each author put in to his works.
I love words. I love books. I am a writer.
Are you?
Til Tomorrow~