The Bookshelf

When I arrive to stay at someone's home, there is usually either a note or a person there to give me a small orientation. At the end of it, they often say "make yourself at home." I think they probably mean that it is OK to use their pots and pans. I take it to mean that it is OK to read their books.

I love to look at people's bookshelves. Even if I brought a book with me, I can't resist looking through the books in the space where I am living. Back in the days that I was subletting my apartment to other people, I often received comments from subletters about my great collection of books, so I know that I am not the only one who does this. By looking through a bookshelf, I learn more about the person who lives there and his or her interests. It is almost as if that person introduces me to their favorite ideas and authors without even being in the room. While in other peoples' homes I have read everything from The Lovely Bones to Zen Buddhism for Dummies to The Biography of Ben Franklin. I could probably read the entire Harry Potter series without ever carrying around a book since everyone seems to have it. I even associate certain places that I have lived with the books that I read while I was there. In my mind, the place takes on the character or mood of the book. There is also the delightful pressure of having to finish it before I leave. Even though some of my hosts would probably let me borrow a book after I am no longer staying in their place, there is no need to do so. There will be more great books in the next location.