I’m having a transcendent reading experience at the moment. It just keeps getting better and better.
I’m reading A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I’m liking it about 100 times more than I thought I would. And I’ll write all about that later.
But for now, I’m having one of those book-lover bliss fits about the physical experience of reading this book.
I’m reading the library’s rebound 1950 copy of The Book of Sherlock Holmes, and it has three features that are making me so damn happy I can hardly contain myself.
First, it lies open all on its own, so I can read while eating without having to book-wrestle.
Second, the book smells good. You know what I’m talkin’ about, my fellow book-sniffers.
Finally–and this one’s the truly addictive thing–the pages are buttery soft. I keep running my finger over the top corner of the pages and feathering them and nearly purring.
Yeah, eBooks are nice enough in their way, but they don’t have this stuff going on.
Sometimes what a girl needs is a nice little rebound 64-year-old book, in order to have the full experience.
I’m savoring it.