For some it’s chocolate. For others, it might be shoes. For me, it’s definitely books. Reading them. Collecting them. And especially shopping for them.
So when I (a little too) aggressively grabbed Julie & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously by Julie Powell off the Barnes & Noble bookshelf last week and stared down at the images of Meryl Streep and Amy Adams on the cover, I knew I could not, under any circumstances, not even if my life depended on it, buy that book. Not even if I told myself it was for a friend...
I pictured my office back home and the stacks of recently purchased novels on my cluttered desk that I’d promised myself I would Give. As. Gifts. I visualized the bright blue cover of Hope in a Jar by Beth Harbison. When I’d opened the book (meant for my mom, really it was) and started reading about lip smackers, Sun-in, and how a rumor can so easily destroy everything, I felt as if I’d traveled back in time to my own adolescence. (In a good way!)
Then I thought about Misery Loves Cabernet by Kim Gruenenfelder that I really was going to give to my brother’s girlfriend (hopefully she won’t read this). It’s a hilarious and witty novel about a woman who tells her boyfriend they should take a break and then instantly regrets it. (Haven’t we all been there?) I gulped the book down faster than even the most delicious bottle of red and didn’t even feel that guilty about keeping it for myself.
And then I “remembered” Remember Me by Sophie Kinsella. It’s a story about a woman who wakes up in the hospital and has zero memory of the last three years of her life. The only problem with that? A lot of important things took place during that time—like her wedding. And as she starts to discover the type of person she was, she begins to question many of the decisions she’s made, including the husband she's chosen. This book was so good I couldn't even remember the lie I’d told myself when I bought it!
So, as I stood next to the shelves of neatly lined books with colorful spines, and ran my hand over the cover of Julie & Julia, I did what any self-respecting addict would do. I convinced myself that this time this one would really be a gift for my friend’s upcoming birthday. Never mind that her big day was over six months away!
And as I read the final paragraph in the book, I decided I really would give this book to my friend and maybe she wouldn’t mind the “used” look at all. In fact, perhaps the coffee stains and tattered cover would give it character? Because the story about the woman who blogged for 365 days about the recipes she was cooking from Julia Child’s French cookbook was just as yummy as the meals she was cooking.
C’mon, you can admit it; what books have you kept for yourself?
