As many of you know, I'm preparing to move locally in the near future. (We're still looking for a place; we have some time and some prospects; you'll notice I'm spending time in the interim among comforting books.) I've amassed a lot of books in the past few years, many of them ARCs, and a lot of what I've read is being brought to the nearest donation bin, from which I sincerely hope it will find new readers who enjoy it. But as I root through my shelves (god, I'll miss the built-in bookshelves), I find myself lingering among the books that are not going anywhere except my new home, where-exactly-ever that turns out to be.
|If you're at all surprised these are staying with me, nice to meet you. Welcome to Walk the Ridgepole.|
|This 1927 printing of Eight Cousins, photographed very carefully, belonged to my late great Aunt Louella, a sweet lady who apparently enjoyed Alcott.|
|The bookplate on the left is my mom's, but I apparently felt the need to mark this copy as my own.|
|Yes, that is a genuine Hanklerfish.|
|Signed first printing. Because when you know the author, that's how you roll.|
This really just skims the surface (I will not picspam for every author event I've been lucky enough to attend), and it omits many books that are still in my parents' house. I own three editions of The Princess Bride, two of them wonderful recent gifts, but the family heirloom edition, complete with "reunion scene" letter from the '70s, was in no shape to travel. On a related note, if any archivist-type friends have tips for transporting old books, those would be welcome.
Maybe I'm not a book-as-object person, but a book-as-Receiver-of-Memory person? I am definitely that.
|This wasn't my childhood copy, but it is the copy I will pull out to support my thoughts on the movie this summer.|