... every time I walk into a bookstore, stacks of newly published titles warmly greet and cajole me with their shiny grins and lilting chirping, making them impossible to ignore. ... The entrance is, naturally, where bookstores tend to display their latest titles, which makes this area the most “deafening”. Attractive and bright in colour, these new books tweet and cheep energetically, each attempting to outshine one another. It is rather vexing to have to ignore Charlaine Harris’ Dead and Gone, but my heart yearns for crafters of beautiful sentences and weavers of enchanting stories. Stride on! ... The purring, barking, roaring, and quaking start even before I get to the children’s books section. From afar the animal characters can smell me, a sucker for picture books who will buy anything that makes my daughter laugh.Phew I'm not the only person who thinks that books are very noisy things - but what Abby Wong fails to mention in her piece in StarMag today is that the cacophony doesn't stop when the books are back home and sitting on your shelves.
It's only those that you actually read that sit there quietly with a satisfied smirk.
4 comments:
but book lovers beware...loving books too much can be dangerous,
as this fine little novella by carlos maria dominguez 'house of paper' amply illustrated.
"It is an appealing cautionary tale about the dangers of owning too many books." - Miranda France, The Telegraph
a nice complete review's review here
http://www.complete-review.com/reviews/argentina/domincm.htm
I have the address of a decent psychiatrist for those who believe that books make any other noise than, scrwish as the page is turned or blonk as one hits the floor.;-)
Don't they whisper wisha wisha wisha wisha to you?
Oh wait...that's the whispering of the woods surrounding the Magic Faraway Tree.
Doh!
At any rate, I'm deaf towards the books at the entrance display. But along the shelves in a particular section I'm interested in...now they hum a beautiful tune. From the deep rumblings of Earth untouched, to the whispering of falling leaves, to the sigh of of the shore at sunrise.
OK. That may be too much.
I try to find books from authors I love reading. Failing that, I look at the covers, and synopses, and the first few pages. If I'm hooked, if the books sing to me with barely a discordant note, I'm hooked. I buy. I read.
I may not finish some, stopping after a few chapters. Now those books, initially sweet-sounding and tentalizing, become screeching ghosts begging me to find closure in them.
And I promise them the same, one and all: "One day. Maybe."
Wow. I can relate with what you posted. Might try to read Miranda France's article though as I am guilty of too many waiting-in-line books.
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