As you already know, I spent part of my day at the Barnes and Noble cafe, doing some blogging and trying to drum up the motivation to work on some of those books ideas.
Those of you who know me well will not be surprised to learn that after I posted to my blog I spent a few minutes looking at the books.
I shouldn’t have done it, but when I ordered my coffee I also renewed my B&N membership. I pay $25 a year and get 10% off books and magazines, even stuff already on sale. It’s a dangerous discount, because while I save way more than $25 a year, if I didn’t have the card I’d probably buy fewer books.
OK, who am I kidding? I’d just buy them from Amazon.com.
So today, armed with my renewed discount, I picked up a few books I’d been wanting to read.
Oh, books! Books! The joys of books! Colorful covers and pages just waiting to be turned! The smell of ink and binding and words dancing on the pages!
Although I’ve never been a drug addict, I often compare my addiciton to books like a crack addict in a drug house. Let us loose and we’ll (over)indulge ourselves senseless.
I love books. I don’t know how people can read on those Kindle things. A book is like a diary of the reader – pages turned down when a particular phrase or thought struck them. Crumbs in the binding, fingerprints all over the cover. Even pages chewed up by a bored puppy.
My husband is not thrilled with my book addiction. We once watched a segment on CBS Sunday Morning about bibliophiles – people who love books. The story featured a man in France whose apartment was filled to overflowing with stacks of books; he had created pathways amidst the stacks and explained that he knew where every book was, and that if he liked a book in paperback he bought a hardcover copy because it lasted longer.
I was enthralled with the story – yay! I’m not alone! – but my husband – the man who has only read one or two entire books in his life, prefering hunting catalogs and magazines instead – looked completely mystified.
I’m strange. What can I say?
While it’s fiction that gets the majority of media attention, more non-fiction books are sold every year by a landslide. And I love them both. I’m also a fan of young adult books and classics. So my reading habits are varied, and I’m usually working on several books at the same time.
Today during my book spree I added these books to my already “to read” growing pile:
- Sold, by Patricia McCormick
- The Boy In The Striped Pajamas, by John Boyne
- The Other End Of The Leash, by Patrician McConnell, PhD.
- The New Work of Dogs, by Jon Katz.
- Coop: A Family, A Farm and the Pursuit of One Good Egg, by Michael Perry
- How To Speak Dog, by Stanley Coren.
- Test your Dog, the Dog IQ Test, by Rachel Federman
In case you can’t tell, I’m a bit of a student of dog behavior. Right now I’m also reading Dogs: A Startling New Understanding of Canine Origin, Behavior & Evolution, by Raymond Coppinger and Lorna Coppinger as well as McConnell’s For The Love Of A Dog; the last chapter is on grief when a dog dies, and I can’t get through it yet. I’ve been through numerous books on training, understanding dog behaviour, several by authors listed above.
I also hit the used bookstore this week – shhh, don’t tell! – and picked up a few more paperback mysteries in the Scarpetta series.
And so while I felt a little down this morning about writing, I end the afternoon excited to curl up on the couch and dig into my pile of books.