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Monday, May 24, 2010
Monday Spotlight: Ginger Hanson
I have a confession to make: I’m a bookoholic. I love books. Big books, tiny books. Fat books, thin books. Old books, new books. Fiction books, nonfiction books. Mysteries, romances. Cookbooks, history books. I love them all.
I buy books, I borrow books. I check them out of the library. I’ve dug through garbage bins to save them. Whenever I visit another city, I check out local bookstores and buy some book I didn’t know I had to have because I didn’t know it existed. I volunteer with the Friends book sale at our local library and lug home armloads of books.
I love the smell of new books and the crisp feel of a newly printed page beneath my fingers. I love the musty smell of old books and the soft, worn feel of a yellowing page.
I love the shiny dust jackets that make lavish promises. The audacious “New!” or “Latest” emblazoned on a 30-year-old book. I treasure the less presumptuous and tattered cover of the simple 1956 edition of a biography, promising only the life story of its subject.
I love the information inside the covers of books. Fiction or nonfiction, what joy it is to read what others have written. To be able to visit any time and any place while comfortably ensconced in an easy chair surrounded by books.
Books define who I am and how I live. They have gone from living in the multiple bookcases I have bought or had made just for them to showing up as part of the decor. Artfully piled on the coffee table, nestled in baskets in various rooms or stacked in hidden corners like the treasure they are, books are in every room of my house.
And while I know that if I did nothing but read 24/7, I could never read all the books I have before I die, that’s okay because I’m a bookoholic. I’m not into reading them all, I’m also into giving books a good home.