“Let us pick up our books and our pens, they are the most powerful weapons.” Malala Yousafzai, the schoolgirl who was shot in the head by the Taliban for wanting an education and survived, in her keynote speech to the United Nations, 12th July 2013.” I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban Continue reading
Yesterday morning – rain, wind, slight chill in the air – I walked totally wrecked and at snail pace towards the bookshop. Voucher in hand, lots of titles written down on paper, just in case my memory checks out on me again.
For a while now I had been looking at certain books, longing to buy them someday. That day came yesterday. Proud as a turkey all dolled up, I went upstairs to the second-hand part of the shop. As I left the elevator, right in front of my eyes stood Friedrich Nietzsche. Just as proud he looked, and slightly cheaper than me, I ran towards him and took him with me. Although thrice known for having chosen the wrong man, I decided to take a chance on dear Friedrich… you know all that jazz about living a wild life? That time had now arrived. Continue reading
Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies,
Shining through sorrow’s stream,
Saddening through pleasure’s beam,
Thy suns with doubtful gleam,
Weep while they rise.
Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease,
Erin, thy languid smile ne’er shall increase,
Till, like the rainbow’s light,
Thy various tints unite,
And form in heaven’s sight
One arch of peace!
Thomas Moore (28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852)
An old book is lying next to me, and it calls me to pick it up and read it. The imperfections of it make me feel as if this book has lived, and that it wants to be cherished for a long time to come. The cover is wrinkled, the pages discoloured and I sense that a lot of time thinking about the content has happened. It is beginning to have that old book scent, the scent only loved by true bibliophiles.
It makes me want to visit my old library again, imperfect because all available space has been filled by other books, yet cherished because I know every corner of the library and what hides in them. The old, creaking seats I used to sit in, to fall under another book’s spell. Imperfect yet loved because the books are not completely sorted by the usual Dewey library classification system and I want to start putting them the right way… happy memories of classifying hundreds and hundreds of books, cherishing the fact that each one had a story behind the story. Imperfect yet liked because it was often a lonely place, leaving me time and space to drift away between rows and rows of knowledge. People stay away from libraries these days and choose instead of the books of old. Imperfection to me will always be the introduction of digital book readers because books still deserve to be cherished, softly handled and looked at with surprise and admiration. Each one of them has been a work of art, hard labour and soft musings of hopes and dreams. Continue reading
I am a true bibliophile. Did library studies and ended up working in one for about 7 years before moving to Ireland. Books were my life as a kid, a teen, a young adult and they are still my life right now. I cannot begin to guess how many books I have read or how many I handled while working in a library and each one was special.
According to Wikipedia, a bibliophile is someone who “loves to read, admire and collect books, often amassing a large and specialized collection. Bibliophiles do not necessarily want to possess the books they love; an alternative would be to admire them in old libraries.” Admire: √. Collect: √. Libraries: √. Now that suits me to a tee! Continue reading