Fancy Books

I walked into Barnes and Noble a while back to exchange my Leatherbound Classics edition of Crime and Punishment for a nearly identical Leatherbound Classics edition of Crime and Punishment. Why? Because the title on the spine was slightly off center. If this had been a book for a class, I would not have given a hoot about this mild imperfection. However, because this was a volume that I was to display on my bookshelf among my collection of golden gilded, fancy shmancy books which are my pride and glory, the OCD art major in me was peeved by the fact that something was impeding the symmetrical balance of its spinal composition. 

When the sales associate asked me why I was exchanging it, I explained that the off-kilter cover was driving me crazier than Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov after he killed Alyona Ivanova in that book. This encounter made me question my sanity and ethics. A lot of the fancy books I have are available to read for free online, or out in an economical paperback. I could save many of trees, cows, and money if I simply read the ebooks. 

You can't pose in front of ebooks, but you
can pose in front of your fancy bookshelf
and pretend to be a Jane Austen character.

I've come to realize one thing about my reading habits: a book that is hard cover, fancy, and expensive is far more likely to keep my attention than a cheap ebook of the same story. I am not sure if this is a case of consumerism, anti-environmentalism, and susceptibility to marketing ploys (a.k.a. judging a book by its cover), or wholesome traditionalism. But ebooks simply cannot look as dapper as my Barnes and Noble Leatherbounds look next to my porcelain teacup collection. Reading an ebook in public is far less inviting than reading an interesting looking book. Reading an ebook says, "I'm sucked into electronic world. Leave me alone." Whereas reading a real book invites people to ask how it is, discuss themes, motifs, and literary theories, etc. If I'm at college studying in a building, perhaps will stroll by and notice my impeccable taste in literature rather than think I am goofing off on my Android tablet when I am actually reading Tolstoy's "War and Peace."

A few months ago I was at a library book sale with my boyfriend when I spotted three boxes of delightful specimens of ancient and classical literary works for a mere $15. My mom nearly had a heart attack when I brought them home, for she told me the week before: "DON'T BUY ANYMORE BOOKS!" I never thought I would hear that coming from any parent's mouth. Most parents would tell their kids, "Don't buy anymore clothes. Your closet is full." Or, "Stop wasting your time and money on video games." Rather than appreciate that she has a daughter who gets excited about finding a gold leafed edition of William Blake's most famous prose (instead of a daughter who spends money on non-academic, un-aesthetically pleasing frivolities), my mom tells me not to buy any books. Imagine that! This is probably a justified assertion because I haven't read all the books I have ever bought, and I will likely perish of the same fate as described in this Lemony Snicket quote: "It is likely I will die next to a pile of things I was meaning to read." C'est la vie.