Books

I’m an ex and I’m lovin’ it!

Image VoltaireI used to be a lot of things. Busy. Book addict. Ireland lover. Passionate. College student… and perhaps a tad crazy also.

But then friends started saying that I was “slowly turning into a blonde”. Physical discrimination on the basis of hair colour aside, I felt they had a point. Concentration skills went from hero to zero. Walking from the couch to the fridge a massive undertaking. In tears in front of the staircase after work because I had to sleep for an hour before being able to scale its height.

In short: I knew I was ill.

It turned out I was ill. Continue reading

Book lovers, unite!

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I have always imagined that Paradise
will be a kind of library.
(Jorge Luis Borges)

If this yesterday’s long list of Firefox bookmarks was anything to go by, you’d have taken me for a very active library assistant waiting impatiently to sort non-fiction books according to the Dewey Classification again. It left me mesmerising out loud that you can take the girl out of the library, but you can’t take the library out of the girl. After all, I was destined for librarianship in some shape or form from early in life. I always felt that a child with a book can achieve more than an adult with a gun.

And that’s what I ended up doing: studying library sciences. Via word of mouth I then moved to different libraries to update and integrate their manual indexes, lists and catalogues with electronic ones. Often Herculean at best, since each library had thousands of books, CDs, videos, newspapers and other items waiting to be added. Continue reading

So many books, so little time!

Yesterday morning – rain, wind, slight chill in the air – I walked totally wrecked and at snail pace towards the bookshop. Voucher in hand, lots of titles written down on paper, just in case my memory checks out on me again.

For a while now I had been looking at certain books, longing to buy them someday. That day came yesterday. Proud as a turkey all dolled up, I went upstairs to the second-hand part of the shop. As I left the elevator, right in front of my eyes stood Friedrich Nietzsche.

Just as proud he looked, and slightly cheaper than me, I ran towards him and took him with me. Although thrice known for having chosen the wrong man, I decided to take a chance on dear Friedrich… you know all that jazz about living a wild life? That time had now arrived. Continue reading

Erin, by Thomas Moore

Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies,
Shining through sorrow’s stream,
Saddening through pleasure’s beam,
Thy suns with doubtful gleam,
Weep while they rise.

Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease,
Erin, thy languid smile ne’er shall increase,
Till, like the rainbow’s light,
Thy various tints unite,
And form in heaven’s sight
One arch of peace!

Thomas Moore (28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852)

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© WVE and Ireland, MS and Me, 2011-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to WVE and Ireland, MS and Me with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The imperfection of books

An old book is lying next to me, and it calls me to pick it up and read it. The imperfections of it make me feel as if this book has lived, and that it wants to be cherished for a long time to come. The cover is wrinkled, the pages discoloured and I sense that a lot of time was spent thinking about the content. It is beginning to have that old book scent, the scent only loved by bibliophiles.

It makes me want to visit my old library again, imperfect because all available space has been filled by other books, yet cherished because I know every corner of the library and what hides in them. The old, creaking seats I used to sit in to fall under another book’s spell.

Imperfect, yet loved because the books are not completely sorted by the usual Dewey library classification system and I want to start putting them the right way… happy memories of shelving hundreds and hundreds of books, cherishing the fact that each one had a story behind the story. Continue reading

Haunting Joyce

JamesJoyce-copyWords. Letters strung together to form sentences filled with thoughts, ideas and emotions. I thrive on them, books and communication in general included.

I am a true bibliophile. Did library studies and ended up working in one for about 7 years before moving to Ireland. Books were my life as a kid, a teen, a young adult and they are still my life right now. I cannot begin to guess how many books I have read or how many I handled while working in a library and each one was special.

According to Wikipedia, a bibliophile is someone who “loves to read, admire and collect books, often amassing a large and specialized collection. Bibliophiles do not necessarily want to possess the books they love; an alternative would be to admire them in old libraries.” Admire: . Collect: . Libraries: . Now that suits me to a tee! Continue reading

When You Are Old, by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
and nodding by the fire, take down this
book and slowly read,

and dream of the soft look your eyes
had once,
and of their shadows deep.

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
(William Butler Yeats)

© WVE and Ireland, MS and Me, 2011-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to WVE and Ireland, MS and Me with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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