An Abundance of Books

When I take in my surroundings, the thing I see in the greatest abundance is books. No, I don't see that pile of laundry or those dirty dishes. Some people have selective hearing. I have selective vision.

I have books overflowing from my bookshelves, stacked in the corner of my bedroom, on my bedside table, on the coffee table, and stored in huge boxes in the basement for when I need to replenish my supply upstairs.

BOOKS, BOOKS, EVERYWHERE BOOKS!! Some of these might look familiar to some of you.

I have a book in my purse, my desk, my car, and the bathroom cupboard. They're tucked away all over the place!

I tend to read four or five novels at a time and I have no plans to decrease my bookly abundance. I just keep adding to it. I DO plan to read every last one of them. I love books. The weight of them, the look of them, the smell of the paper. Their multi-colored covers all lined up on a shelf. I have always loved books and hope I'm never without them in my life. And don't get me started on the abundance of stories and characters just waiting to be discovered between the covers.

My mother instilled a love of books at a very early age. My family didn't have much money when I was small, but I had twelve golden books. Do you remember those? They had a gold foil spine, but were cheap. I'm not sure they make them anymore. Every night, without fail, my mother would put me in bed and sit down to read a book to me. One book would turn into two. Two into three. I would never let her leave until she'd read every book I owned aloud. All twelve of them. When she'd get tired (she'd worked all day, after all), she'd try to pull a fast one and skip a page or two. I'd say, "Mommy, that's not how it goes." I, of course, had every word memorized. This continued each night for several years. When my little sister was born, the reading routine was disrupted, so I made up my own stories in my head. A writer was born!

Last week, I added to my book abundance when my author copies of Backstage Pass arrived. I dragged the box into the house, opened it as if it contained the holy grail, and lifted one of the treasures from inside. I held my book in my hands, tested its weight, felt the texture of the cover, smelled the paper, listened to the sounds of the pages flipping, stared at the cover and the text, and then I clutched it against my chest and hugged it.

Hey! At least, I didn't taste it. Much.

I'm very familiar with the words inside this book, but the physical entity was entirely new to me. For someone who loves books as much as I do, it was an amazing experience to hold that book in my hands for the first time. And the second time. And the third. I can't stop picking it up. Maybe I'll eventually get around to reading it again. The ending still makes me cry happy tears.
Okay, I couldn't resist reading parts of it. And it still makes me laugh.

Now I have one of my own books mixed in with my book hoard and it gives me an abundance of smiles. I know when I see Backstage Pass on a bookstore shelf on October 1st, I'm going to shed abundant tears of joy. Debut authors are so weird. Or maybe it's just me...

Do you own an abundance of books? Is the physical form of a book important to you or are you perfectly happy reading on an e-reader?