I’m not one to get angry if my book is a little dog-eared. I don’t mind cracked spines or bent covers and sometimes, if I’m really tired I even do that thing with my paperbacks that kind of turns one side into a tube. I don’t believe in the sanctity of a book; I don’t think a book needs to be pure and clean to be appreciated. While I don’t actively write on my books, I will without compunction. I think kids can get dirty and I think books can look used. What benefit do I get out of a book I’ve already read unless it shows some wear, can direct me to parts I loved and I lend them freely?
I lend my books enthusiastically and I almost even force people to take books sometimes. Because when I enjoy a book, I want to share it; I want someone else to love it too. I even hope that when the borrower returns the book in question, which has been Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint on a number of occasions, we talk about it. I want to know what people think about all books and I take recommendations very seriously. If I recommend a book, I feel like I have done something really personal, especially if I really feel like you’d like the book as much as I did. I almost get hurt if you don’t want to read the book I just said was so good you have to read I know you’d love it. I held on to an old copy of Pride and Prejudice that had the front cover taped on until I absent-mindedly left it on a subway platform. But honestly, I hope someone picked it up and read it and loved it.
Although, once I borrowed a book from the library and in a bit of dialogue was underlined with a note scrawled in the margin that said: “Character dies in childbirth.” And that annoyed me.
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