I did not mean to buy books here. It’s silly to buy books in pounds (multiple senses) and have to get them home. I only went in the book exhibit because I overslept, and I was so late to the first session, where I could see people sitting on the floor already, that I decided to bag it and just kill a bit of time before walking over to Weetwood for the second session.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

Some time later, I emerged the owner of a facsimile I have coveted for some time. My library’s copy has been charged to me for about three years. Now I can return it, and use it for teaching purposes, while I have my very own one for research. Squeee! And then there are the lovely books I acquired from the very helpful (and in one case quite toothsome) young men at the U of Wales Press. And a book from B&B that is really quite perfect for helping me plan my fall courses. There might be one or two other things off a sale table. That doesn’t really count.

There are several other books I would like to own, which I have heroically resisted! I’m not working on those topics right this minute, and when I get to them I’ll get the library copies for awhile, and then maybe they’ll come out in paperback or I’ll score a review copy or something. So I didn’t buy so many books as I might have.

It’s a disease. Or an occupational hazard. Not my fault. And I didn’t mean to. But I’m not sorry, at least not now. Check with me when I’m struggling with my luggage, later.

3 thoughts on “Books

  1. If buying books is a disease, then count me amongst those who are chronically afflicted! I vividly remember my last night in a Paris hostelry a few years ago, trying to figure out how many shoes left behind would equal the books I wanted to bring home.

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