All of the rooms in my house contain books. Over-stuffed bookshelves adorn the walls of my living room, bedroom, and office. Books can even be found in my kitchen [1] and bathroom [2]. A quick search of my car will also turn up a book or two [3]. Additionally, my computer and laptop contain months of reading material with access to a plethora of further resources. I have a Kindle that is also heavily loaded with reading material.
Essentially, I am inundated with books.
Not only that, I am immersed in information. Especially when you consider that I prefer non-fiction [4] – essays, interpretations, guidance, references, memoirs, how-to books, philosophy, theology, etc. – my library is a veritable depository [5] of both esoteric and exoteric [6] thought. When mixed with my enjoyment of other forms of information, I may be considered a philosopher or gnosophile [7]. Either way you say it, had I been in the Garden of Eden, there may have been no fruit left on the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil for Adam and Eve. I would have converted it all into paper and ink for the sake of bringing books into the world.
My point is that I am a bibliophile [8]. I love reading and learning new things or rereading and spending time with an old friend. As Aunt Vivian (played by Ellen Greene) remarked of eating Ned’s (played by Lee Pace) pies in the show Pushing Daisies, “It’s like a sex addiction” [9]. I am fairly certain that books must do for me what sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll do for others – just without the nasty side effects that will ultimately consume them [10]. I must also admit that I am not monogamous when it comes to reading; I tend to have about eight or so going at the same time [11]. However, I do expect for me to be their one-and-only (I consider library books to be the harlots of the book world [12]), although I will pick up a widow from a flea market every so often and will let my friends spend some time with them occasionally.
I blame my dad. He is well known for picking up [13] large stacks of books from the public library and returning them within the same week only to replace them with a new pile. He got me into this love of reading by setting the example. I watched him read [14] countless novels [15] over the course of my life.
For me, books are a way to explore places I cannot go, to meet people who I will most likely never encounter, to toy with ideas that are not my own, to live lives that I was not born into, and to learn things that may or may not have any discernable value to my life other than the joy received from the knowledge of just how diverse creation has become [16].
I bring this up because of something I did today. I skipped lunch after church [17] so that I could afford a book at the local coffee-shop/bookstore [18]. It really is like a sex addiction, Vivian, it really is.
[1] I don’t just mean cookbooks. I sometimes read as I cook, wash dishes, or do laundry.
[2] I had a friend who poked fun at me for doing my quiet time (Christianese for prayer, Bible study, meditation, and generally spending time with God) on the can. I considered it to be a form of humble obeisance – approaching His throne from my own, if you will. My method was also a way to ensure that it happened at least once every day (take that as you will). Additionally, this was often the only time I had alone. He considered this to be ‘so weird’ that he could not conceive of doing this himself. I would like to point out that this individual would read Trivial Pursuit cards while doing his business. These were the same cards he would use when playing the game with family and friends. I win.
[3] I do not condone reading (or texting) while driving. I have a hard enough time taking a quick glance at my TomTom – thus why Yoda is my constant travel companion. Additionally, God inspired someone to create audio-books for a reason (probably to keep my girlfriend and me alive).
[4] I lump allegory in with non-fiction as long as the text has an intention akin to parable and not merely entertainment.
[5] Books are to depositories as suppositories are to butts.
[6] Exoteric is for the general public – simple, approachable, common. Esoteric is for a select few with special knowledge or interests – deep, difficult, personal.
[7] Lover of wisdom or lover of knowledge, respectively. Yes, Kyle, I had to make up the last one as I don’t want to call myself a Gnostic.
[8] Note my use of the lower-case ‘b’, indicating that I am a lover of books in general as opposed to just a Bibliophile – lover of the Bible, which I also consider myself.
[9] This show should not have been cancelled so early. A forensic fairy tale with an amazing cast, cerebral scripting, and beautiful art direction that warrants your purchase of both seasons on DVD.
[10] With the one exception of the financial depletion that also plagues bibliophiles.
[11] To my girlfriend: Do not worry, I will not do this with women. I cannot. You are far too interesting for me to have another. Besides which I could not buy more books if there were another woman, I can barely afford them now.
[12] I guess this makes librarians pimps. This thought makes me giggle.
[13] It even sounds like prostitution, doesn’t it?
[14] Okay, the reading = sex metaphor stops here. That just feels so wrong to say.
[15] Yes, he is a fan of lowly fiction, but I still love him. At least he reads smart fiction (Heinlein, Tolkien, Vonnegut, Greeley, etc.). I will admit that I like a slim picking of fiction as well, just not as much as dad.
[16] I also blame my excessive use of footnotes and links to references on my being a bibliophile.
[17] No, mom, I am not starving myself.
[18] The book is Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman, a collection of essays I would recommend to anyone wanting to understand bibliophiles. She mentions that she didn’t consider herself fully married until after she and her husband merged their book collections – five years and one child after their wedding. Again, reading is intimate.
