Every week the Weekly Geek asks a bookish question. This week they want us to confess to our addictions, our bookish addictions, and I, I have a confession to make.
Books tend to follow me home. There seems to be little I can do about it. They just do!
I go into every single book store I see. The other weekend my family and I were travelling. We stopped in a small town for a fika :D. As we were walking down the street we walked past a bookstore. I ducked in. My parents were left laughing. I didn’t buy any books on that particular trip, although I drooled over Jamie Does, the latest cookbook from Jamie Oliver. I really wanted it but as we were travelling it didn’t seem sensible (I am occasionally sensible when it comes to books).
No my real addiction is to Bookdepository.co.uk. I buy far far to many books from them. A few weeks ago (and boy do I wish I had take a picture of this) the mail man left all the books that arrived in a plastic bag on top of the mailbox. It made me laugh. I got 5 books that day. Anymore I rarely have a week when I don’t put in an order or receive a previously made order. It is just so durn handy.
Now a book buying addiction might not be so bad if I could also get rid of books. Unfortunately I seem to be completely incapable of getting rid of books. I was better at it when I was an undergrad. I got rid of several books when I moved. Now instead I store my books around the world. You see all my books don’t currently live with me. I have a couple of totes of mainly books living in my cousins garage in England. I do not live in England or the British Isles any more. I have yet to retrieve my books, partly because I know it will turn out that we now have three copies of Purity in Death. Yeah I have issues.
But, as much as my parents laughed at my the other week, they came into the store with me willingly. You see, my addiction, is hereditary. My parents are just as bad. We have
over 10,000 (okay that might have been an exaggeration but over 5000 at least when I started counting…I’m tired today, long day) books in our house. When I was little my dad gave blood, he would get paid a small sum (about $7 ) but it was enough to buy a book (or two) and that is what he used the money for. Sometimes a book for him, sometimes a book for me. We still have all those books. Plus the books my grandmother used to send me across the Atlantic every few months. She belonged to a book club on my behalf and every few months I would get the packages from them. I still have all of those books.
I can probably count the books I have gotten rid of over the years on not using more than my fingers. The books I have gotten rid of have exclusively gone to friends or to charity shops, in the hope that they will find a good home as I could not give them one. They still hurt. Every single one of them. I hated it.
So my confession today is: I am a hoarder of books. I really am.