I have in my possession, in either print or e-version, thousands of books. Every one I have read and loved and yes, read over again. And I still go out and buy more. My DH doesn't understand this. He doesn't believe me when I tell him that yes, I do re-read my books. I compare it to his love of purchasing movies. You see, we're the opposite there. I'll watch a movie and enjoy it, but I don't have to OWN it. If it was a good movie and I happen across it in the future, that's fine. If not, no worries. But my husband has to own the film. And yes, he'll watch his movies repeatedly--just as I'll read my books repeatedly, I tell him.
I've learned, however, that not many will re-read a book. Wait, let me clarify, books. Plural. There may be a particular, singular book that some people will turn back to time and again, but to have a virtual library on hand to go back to...takes a special person. Like you and I. 😉
My dream is to have my own library. I did have one, briefly, in the short year and a half between getting married and having our first child. We had the space then, and I had an entire room that I lined with bookcases and all my books (that was over fifteen years ago. My book collection has obviously grown exponentially since then). I remember the joy of setting the books on the shelves. I arranged them by genre, by author. Some by size. But, as usually happens, life goes on and when we knew a little one was on the way, my library went the way of a nursery. Now with seven people in-house, I may not get another "library" until I'm a little old lady. 😄
Since the little ones started coming along, my book collection went the way of boxes and storage. I have these boxes scattered all over, too. Some in the attic, some in a cottage out back, some tucked away in closets or in corners here and there. Every so often, I'll dig one out and I'm like a toddler discovering a box of toys he'd forgotten existed. I coo and sigh over the titles, the smell of paper and words, and then I'll start stacking them into the order I want to re-read them, then I do. And once I've gone through the box, I'll tuck it away again.
So even if my darling movie-loving husband doesn't believe I actually re-read the books I've bought, you and I know the truth. As avid readers, how can we expect to go on without the pleasure of rediscovery?
*photo from fotolia