It is that time of year again, and I’m in serious danger. It is absolutely essential that I do not even THINK of going to the Friends of the Library’s Fall Book Sale coming up next weekend. Under no circumstances whatsoever. Not within a mile of the place!
I’m a librarian surrounded by books every day, so you might think that I would be immune to the perils of buying too many books. Sadly, no. Bibliophilia – or whatever the proper term is for the disproportionate love of buying books – is not something to be simply shrugged off, no matter how overstuffed one’s bookcases are becoming. This snapshot of small chunk of my book cases at home might not seem too bad until you know that what you are seeing here is just the outermost layer. The books are all shelved two deep, and sometimes three deep, creating a bizarre hidden library behind the visible one. We’ve all seen those houses in the movies where the bookcases swing open to reveal some secret passageway. Behind my books you will find – more books!
Fellow sufferers know that it is a long road back, and that even the most aimless healthy stroll along that road sometimes finds us winding up at some bookstore without knowing how we got there. The burgeoning world of online bookselling provides round-the-clock temptation to track down that obscure title I just read about on some blog. Generally speaking, I am not a shopper; anything but, in fact. But bookstores are a whole other thing. My grandparents ran a used bookstore up in Victoria BC and I and my sister – a life long bookseller herself – whiled away many childhood hours wrapped in that distinctive used book store mustiness. Nature or nurture, its in our blood. I am getting better. At bookstores I make a lot of notes, so that I can place a hold on it at the library, or maybe treat myself to an interlibrary loan of some rarity. Recently I managed to spend a full three hours in Powell’s World of Books down in Portland and walked out with only one purchase – a water bottle! I felt like I’d summitted Everest without oxygen.
Which brings me back to the Friends’ biannual book sale, and why I have to stay far far away from Magnuson Park this coming Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Braving Powell’s is one thing, but there’s no way I could go to that book sale and walk away clean. No way. Have you been to one of these things? It is a browser’s paradise: a big warehouse filled with every imaginable sort of book, at $1 a throw. Hidden treasures lurking everywhere. Spectacular deals. Long lost friends. Dozens of books you hadn’t realized you needed, but absolutely can’t resist. The Friends book sale is THE event for Seattle book lovers and buyers, bar none. Now, I love the Friends of the Library, I love the Friendshop, I love the Friends’ blog, but their sales are a treacherous minefield for folks like me. And this is where the Friends’ friendship really shows itself, because they understand my predicament, and have the cure. I can’t buy more books until there is more room on the shelves. So while you may not be seeing me at this year’s book sale, you will see some of my books. Please take them home and enjoy them. How can you resist?
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