Okay, since I'm catching up on my life today, here's the Book Porn, as promised:
Sadly, some of the books I loved as a kid are gone: an early-1800's printing of "Swiss Family Robinson" with a crazy-high-english translation; it must've been one of the earliest versions. I remember Franz running around yelling "Father! Come and see what I have procured!"; a bunch of little chapbooks, some with Yeats poetry and plays, and a bunch of others in the same matched set; a very early single-volume copy of "Cosette," one of the five individual books that make up "Les Miserables". I'm sad those books weren't there... as you might imagine, I've lusted after these gorgeous books for my entire life, and now I'm sad that I didn't read nearly enough of them while I had the chance. Still, the ones I'm keeping are gonna get read, come hell or high water -- good books are for reading, not looking at.
*whimper*
::very quietly whispers::
Oh good lord. Those are AMAZING. When can I come and visit them?
Damn J, these are beautiful. I promise to have clean hands.
Awww, looking at this seriously reminds me of times I spent in my grandparents' houses, which each had a room (or hallway) that was lined with bookshelves. Even though I knew that indeed they did *read*, I had the general feeling that by sitting in front of the bookshelf and pulling out a teen-level novel (which had clearly been there undisturbed for ages) I was somehow unearthing buried and forgotten treasure that no-one but me knew about... despite the fact that yes, of course my parents read it and liked it otherwise it wouldn't still be there. But it was hardback books, that smelled like dust and archaeology. Yay for old books and personal reading history!