Alright, tissues at the ready for this one. I was properly raining by the time I’d finished writing.
3. My books are my friends
Congratulations if your book has earned a permanent spot on my bookshelves. That means that I like you. Or, at least, I like your book.
One cannot be impractical about these things. There’s only so much space in my house, there are only so many bookshelves in my house. The space is limited. But there will always be room for those books that have had a profound impact on me. Usually because the characters and the stories and the worlds really resonated with me, but also because they remind me of when I first read them.
They give me a warm sense of nostalgia, like endless summer holidays or post-Christmas comfort, or books that got me back into reading after a dry spell or books that got me through tough times and illnesses, or books I devoured with my best friend at school and we couldn’t get enough of them and we couldn’t be enough like the heroes and that’s what we were going to be when we were adults.
Of course, we never did turn out like those heroes, but I remember it all, and it’s all part of my life and part of the environment that shaped me. I couldn’t possibly throw out any of these books; it would be like throwing out my friends from my heart. And that’s what these books are to me: they are my friends. They’ve stood by me through all the years of my life, through good times and bad, through times so tough I could barely make it through. I always had my books. I always had those places I could retreat to, even for just ten minutes before bedtime or for entire days if I needed it. They never let me down; they never abandoned me; they never gave up on me.
These special books, I will never throw them out. Even when I’m three hundred years old and my consciousness exists in a virtual reality, I will still faithfully dust them every week and remember just how much they mean to me.