There are many great things about being in love with books; the gift of travelling without moving; of seeing people, places and things that do not exist and could never exist; having an imagination clearer than even the most expensive television screen…
You could write on any of those subjects; in fact, I probably have myself at http://www.literatipulp.com if you’d like to see my small contribution to my friend Regina’s lovely website.
There’s no one thing that is particularly special about a lifelong love affair (certainly not if you’re living your life the right way around), but one of the things I especially love about my passion for reading/writing is that feeling of coming home you experience every time you walk into a real bookshop.
By real, I simply mean a shop that is primarily dedicated to selling books, rather than the mainstream high street sellers, who happen to sell books but aren’t really about that. I’m sure every real bookworm understands what I mean, so I won’t elaborate on the point; if you’re unsure, I’d suggest that a shop selling canned drinks, chocolates and (may whatever gods exist strike them down) chewing gum, then you’re probably in a bookshop of the soulless variety.
I’ve recently spent a few weeks travelling around the UK (my first time on a plane since Covid), seeing many parts of England I’d not visited before, and as will surprise no one who knows me, my biggest joy (apart from seeing friends) was in discovering new bookshops.
With the world being what it is at the moment, travelling is at a real premium, which I believe has really increased the value of spending our free time reading (for the reasons I listed at the beginning of this blog).
As part of my own holiday experience this year, I dealt with some anxiety over whether I was doing the right thing by travelling around the UK with my backpack; attending museums, theatre’s and football matches – I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing, by possibly increasing the risk of illness to those people around me.
The one time when I was completely without anxiety was when I visited bookshops. After such a long time without stepping into a new one, it felt more like coming home than my return to the UK.