So, I’ve realized what really makes buying new books addictive…well, for me, that is.
Books are my drug of choice. One of the things I love most is anticipating the arrival of a new book—or several—from wherever I’ve ordered them. Or the anticipation of knowing that I’m going to visit my favorite used bookstore, and that I know when I’m there, the smell of books will overtake me, leaving me quite insensate about the stack of books with which I might abscond. Like I said, I’m addicted.
Then, of course, there’s the joy of seeing rows of books I’ve finished, nice and orderly on their respective shelves (I have different ones for different genres, you see), not to mention the stacks and shelves of books I have yet to read.
There are also other joys: escapism, learning new things, walking around in another’s shoes for just a little while, looking up words I don’t know or ideas of which I have never heard. Even more fun is knowing, thanks to science, that we don’t only read about a character’s experiences, our brain lives them.
So, then, I suppose that means I’ve lived many lives as a reader…all the more joy for me!