photo by bookjunkie
There are some women who squeal with delight at a blue satin heeled Louboutin or a Valentino silk dress that accentuates all the right curves and cloaks your flaws. In that aspect I am what you would call a nerd with a measure of weirdness equated to Mac evangelists and Trekkies.
To me a book is a thing of beauty.
Yet again I bow down to the Japanese who lovingly excel in this art. Hands down, Japanese publishers produce the most exquisite books – practically a work of art. It makes me long to decipher the lovely Japanese prints on inside. They are the equivalent of what Louboutin does with shoes, or Valentino does with dresses.
Run the pads of your index on the inner pages and you will realise that only the finest quality paper is used. Felt gently between the thumb and index, the obviously high grade paper has a generous thickness. As my fingers glide over satin like pages I feel flushed with pleasure. A new book with its new book scent and healthy unbruised spine is quite a delight to the senses. It begs to be read with every word relished.
To dog ear a single page or crease its spine in the slightest would be criminal. You want to preserve it in its newness. Trust me. Respect the book and the whole reading experience is elevated to another level.
I am finicky when it comes to authors and I have my favourites. The best way I can thank the author who put years of his life into his work of art is to be as gentle as possible with his labour of love.
