CALL ME A BOOKWORM
My brother was the first person to call me a “bookworm.” He said it affectionately, watching me curl up in our parents’ living room armchair. I was maybe seven or eight years old and I remember I was rereading my then-favorite book: a historical fiction novel about a boy living in Kentucky during the Civil War. I looked up from the book when he said it, wondering if I should feel offended, but the smile on his face said it was a good thing. I shrugged and went back to reading. That memory is the first prominent scene in the movie of my lifelong love affair with books.
I come by it honestly in a combination of nature and nurture: my parents are both readers and book lovers. Did you know there’s a difference? Some people read but don’t particularly love books. I don’t understand these people, but they do exist. If you want to know more about them, you’ll have to find one and ask them about it because I am at a loss.
I love the books themselves. The pages, the covers, the little ribbons to hold your place. Books are just the best.
WHERE IS MY BOOK?
One of my favorite books is The Scarlet Pimpernel. It’s exciting, it’s romantic, and it’s one of the first known stories of the masked hero. Sir Percy Blakeney walked so Clark Kent could run. The Scarlet Pimpernel rescued men, women, and children in France so that Batman could rescue men, women, and children in Gotham. It’s the birth of a genre, and it’s just damn good storytelling. I’ve read the book probably eight times.
I recently decided I wanted to reread it–I don’t even remember why. So I went looking for my copy. Now, when I say “my copy,” I mean the book I grew up with. Technically, it belongs to my parents. But, being the book lovers that they are and wanting to share that love with their children, they have never once protested me commandeering their books. (Or perhaps they just didn’t know? Well, cat’s out of the bag now. Sorry, ma and pop!) But I couldn’t find my copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel.
“Perhaps I lent it to someone?” I said to myself. But that seemed odd because I actually have a second copy of it for lending. Because, well, my copy is for me. (I feel like that should be self-explanatory.) But it was nowhere to be found.
SURVEYING THE OPTIONS
Now, something that is often true of bookworms (I follow a lot of bookworms on Instagram, so I can confirm that it’s not just me) is that we want to read only what we want to read at that exact moment. We may have dozens of books in our To Be Read piles, but if the mood isn’t right, or the tea isn’t quite hot enough, or mercury isn’t in retrograde, we won’t touch those books. I’ve heard others compare a library to a good wine cellar: each book or bottle just waiting for the right moment to be cracked open for consumption. This means that when the mood strikes to read a book, we want to read it right then, not a second later.
So there I am, at 10 p.m. on a Thursday, wanting to read The Scarlet Pimpernel but not able to find it. I considered downloading it on my Kindle, but I recently had a bad experience switching from an ebook to a paper book when reading another old favorite, and I didn’t want to feel that discomfort again. That one was a reverse problem–I purchased a paper copy of a book I’d read on Kindle multiple times, and I just felt all weird inside as I read it. I eventually got over it, but who wants to feel weird when they’re reading a favorite book?
My next option was to borrow my roommate’s copy. She was very willing, but the pages of her copy are…strange? Kind of…slippery? I don’t know how to explain this except that it just didn’t feel right.
Next, I started texting my friends who might have borrowed the book. Only one of them replied, “Yes, it’s at our house,” which was concerning to me because I knew that was likely the copy I had for lending. The next day, I went to their house, inspected their shelves, and, sure enough, they had the copy I kept for lending. It’s…fine? Except–I got it for free, and the pages are falling out. And it’s been lent to several people, which has only added to its traumatized appearance.
No sign of my copy anywhere.
I BOUGHT A NEW BOOK
So I did what any self-respecting bookworm would do and I ordered myself a new copy. I did a little research and purchased a cute little hardcover pocket-sized version. Now, all book lovers know that ebooks are for travel, paperbacks are for reading, and hardcovers are for looks. I figured I’d get the little hardcover for looks now and then buy another paperback later.
The book arrived on Tuesday, and I’m obsessed.
Isn’t it ADORABLE??
Yes, the answer is yes. It’s adorable.
I am very happy with my purchase, in case you couldn’t tell.
Now, I feel silly telling you all this. It’s absurd. I bought a new copy of a book I could have read three times over without buying it. But the other options didn’t feel right, and this feels right. I’m invested in books, and they have meaning to me, whether it’s the stories and characters inside or the actual paper pages I hold in my hands. I’m truly in a lifelong love affair with books, and I don’t expect everyone to understand.
WHAT’S YOUR LOVE AFFAIR?
And yes, I have a point here, other than just describing my complicated relationship with ink that’s been pressed onto flattened trees.
I don’t often talk about my love affair with books. It’s not something I usually discuss with the world at large. The people who are around me regularly see me reading and may hear me mention characters, plots, or ideas. Like my brother all those years ago, people observe this love affair and then go about their business, and I go on reading. I keep it mostly to myself because often, people don’t understand, and I don’t like feeling like I have to defend my decisions. I don’t want to have to justify buying a new copy of a book I’ve already read half a dozen times.
But it’s something that makes me me. And to understand me, you must see the movie about my love affair with books. So, I’m sharing these little scenes with you and telling you who I am. I am a bookworm, and I want to share that with you.
And I’d love to know: what makes you you?
What’s your lifelong love affair?
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