As the son of a librarian and a college professor, I can’t remember much about my childhood that didn’t involve books. They were everywhere. Oversized illustrated ones, piled high in my arms as I tottered out of the children’s department. Mass-market sci-fi and fantasy novels, marking my adolescence and teendom. Thick boring-sounding ones with the word “Labor” in the title, stuffing the shelves in my father’s office. Midlist trade paperbacks, stacked neatly next to my mother’s bed.
When I read Freya Howarth’s guide to building your own library in Psyche, though, it made me realize how much my relationship to books has changed. Not reading; books.
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