There is something extraordinarily liberating and exciting about being let loose in such a place, allowed to wander, pick out this and that, read a bit here, a page there, take out the book, then wander to another bay in search of something related to it. It is the self-education among books that few people, now, are privileged to have.
A big home library was always a great fascination of mine. Ever since I first read about one – Aunt March’s library in Little Women… Never before the idea of one person having his or her own library in his or her own house had crossed my mind! It was the most fantastic thing! And Jo inherited it!…
Being a black sheep in the family can be pretty disappointing – if one is prone to disappointments. Not having anyone to inherit a book from was not a big deal. Besides, it was more than good enough for me that Jo got the library because I “was” Jo.
Sometimes I ask myself why do I want to have my own library. I know it was never a question of possession, of a simple desire to own a bunch of books… I found a part of an answer in Susan’s words – to be able to “pick out this and that, read a bit here, a page there” in the morning, in the middle of the night, whenever I wish to; to climb the small ladders (or a chair) and take out as many as I want; to read them standing on that very chair if I wish to and to feel free to leave them open, on the floor, knowing they’ll be waiting patiently exactly where I left them.. But, it is not just the matter of having books always at hand. Part of the magic is in the place (the room) itself – it gives joy and solace. It is a refuge. It is a place of peace and reflection… And it is a time-machine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thank you, Ste, for a shot of motivation. If it wasn’t for it, I would’ve left the writing for tomorrow or the day after tomorrow… Or maybe I would have procrastinated for another two weeks.