My Love Affair with Books

I love to read. I always have. I love everything about real books – the way the feel, the way they smell, the way they sound when I flip a page, the way that if I read for too long my eyes start to burn just a little bit. My Kobo just cannot compete with the way a real book satisfies me deep into my soul.

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So, just how deep is my books addiction/obsession?

  • I am addicted to buying books. My addiction runs so deep that a running joke between me and most people I know is that I could have worse addictions – I could drink, I could smoke, I could do crack-cocaine. But instead I choose to spend way too much money on books.
  • When I have free time I’ll often find myself wondering around bookstores buying more books than I’ll ever actually be able to read. And, if I cannot make it to a book store, you might find my cruising online bookstores like Amazon or Chapters. So much so, that every now and again my husband will jokingly forbid me from buying new books until I read some of the books I have at home.
  • When we bought our new family home, I demanded that we turn a large empty wall in our basement into bookshelves. My wall of books would hold my ever-growing collection including those that I’ve carting around Western Canada from school to school and city to city in boxes since my childhood. I don’t think I’ve ever actually parted with a book in my life.
  • Even with my wall of books in the basement, I still seem to have stacks of books in every room in our house. And no matter how hard I try to keep them organized on the shelves in the basement, it’s almost like they have legs and follow me around the house begging to be read.
  • I have so many unread books lying around the house that the odd time I get caught without a birthday gift and don’t have time to go shopping, I can always quickly wrap up a couple of books as a gift.
  • Every Christmas I buy multiple copies of my favourite book from the year and give the book to everyone I know.
  • Everywhere I travel I buy books much to my husband’s eye rolling (he usually gets stuck carrying them around all day in our daypack…lucky him).  I always end up carting home books from significant world sites – Machu Picchu, Angkor Wat, Central Park, Vimy Ridge, Panama Canal, the High Line, Vesa Museum, etc. I could always just buy them, or something similar, and possibly for a cheaper price, online when I get home. But it’s just not the same as buying them from the actual landmark.

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  • The best gift I can ever receive is a good book, but not just any book that someone randomly picked up off the shelf. The book must be one that the person was touched by and they were compelled to share. As much as I want to read the book, I want to hear the story about how the book impacted the person giving it to me.
  • By the age of 10 my mom let me start reading her John Grisham’s books because I had finished all the books for my age category that even remotely interested me. (I loved them, but I really struggled with The Chamber as a young tween – it as just a bit too heavy of a topic for this 10-year-old and is actually the only book I have ever started reading but did not finish).
  • I always give books as baby gifts, as I firmly believe every child deserves the deep pleasure of reading and you can never start too early. I have saved my childhood books and even bought new books for my future kids, years before we were actively trying to have kids.

When I’m working, I tend not to read for pleasure because at work I spend my days glued to a computer reading technical work stuff – can you say boring? So, the last thing I want to do when I get home is read some more. But, when I have ample free time, usually on vacations and now that I’m on a medical leave from work, I always have a book in my hands or at least within an arm’s reach.

4 Comments on “My Love Affair with Books

  1. Pingback: Living Messy | My Perfect Breakdown

    • Oh, I should try reading a romance novel. The last time I read anything even slightly considered to be a romance was when i was probably 10 or 11 and I decided to read one of my mom’s Danielle Steel books. I suspect my inappropriate age at the time is probably why I have never read one since. 🙂


  2. Pingback: Counting My Blessings | My Perfect Breakdown

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