...libraries.
Yes, you read that correctly. I must avoid libraries. It seems that they are just as dangerous, if not more so, than bookstores.
It began innocently enough; I was on a routine trip to the library to return a book I had recently borrowed.
[It was Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev, for those who may be curious. Turgenev is my first excursion into the world of Russian literature, to be honest, and I quite liked it, although I fear I must brush up on my Russian history if I'm going to really understand the genre and its characters.]
Anyway, I was walking down the busy street towards the library, my book tucked under my arm, enjoying the warm weather and admiring the architecture of St. Stephen's Episcopal Cathedral as I strolled by (it's really a shame that the Protestant churches in my area have some of the nicer architecture). My thoughts were a million miles away, busy comparing and contrasting Arkady's and Bazarov's personalities, contemplating each character's philosophy and final outcome in the story...
And then, my hitherto wandering gaze alighted upon a curious sight-- a tent was set up on the library lawn, and on tables beneath the white canopy were boxes and boxes of books. My heart leapt for joy at the banquet placed before it, for, indeed, the library was having their annual book sale!
In some greatly ignored part of my brain, a little voice tremulously hazarded a reminder that I mustn't fill the new bookshelves too quickly.
"Tut, tut," said the bigger, stronger, more willful side of me. "We'll only take a look. Where's the harm in that?"
The little voice didn't have the courage to even whisper an answer after such a firm rebuke.
So, I quickly returned Turgenev to his place in the library proper, and then I practically skipped outside to peruse the offerings beneath the tent.
Now, please don't pass judgement on me when I confess that I made a beeline directly for the table of books marked 'Science Fiction.' There is a part of me that hasn't yet grown up, and never will if I can help it, and this part loves reading science fiction. To be exact, this perpetually youthful side of my persona will devour anything Star Wars and so my eyes scanned the numerous titles, looking for any book bearing that distinctive gold-lettered logo.
I was in luck this time, because amidst the stacks of Tolkien-wanna-be's and novels bearing paintings of dragon-riding witches and wizards (all of whom, curiously, have red hair or long grey beards) I found six Star Wars paperbacks. Three of the six were even in mint condition, price stickers on the back cover and all! Luckily, they were all titles I didn't have yet in my home library, and five were novels that I had been looking for specifically for quite some time (Timothy Zahn's Thrawn Trilogy and the 2nd & 3rd installments of Kevin J. Anderson's Jedi Academy Trilogy).
My child-like side happily satiated, I turned then to the table labeled 'Classics and Philosophy,' and to my delight , I came across two beautifully bound, old, hardcover books. The first was Rostand's hysterical Cyrano de Bergerac and the second, which is an even greater find, was C. S. Forrester's Commodore Hornblower. Both are in fantastic condition, and will be wonderful additions to my library.
Finally, I turned to the table that was marked 'Music,' and found a fabulous hardcovered book with 102 of Gilbert & Sullivan's songs from their operettas, complete with coloured illustrations and a synopsis of each operetta. What a treasure!!
The best part of all of this? I only spent $6.00!! On nine fantastic books!! Six dollars wouldn't even get me one Star Wars paperback at the bookstore!
Ahem... despite my good fortune, I do have nine more books to tote home, and while there is ample space on the new bookshelf, I do need to be careful of filling it up too quickly, lest I need to buy yet another bookshelf and take up even more of our precious wall space.
And so, I must avoid libraries... or at least libraries having book sales...
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