Bookish

I love books. I worked out that I get through around 50 pages per day just on my daily commute. That's a good couple of decent sized novels a month (not counting the various books that I have on the go by my bedside and lurking in the sitting room!)
I read books all year round but Autumn and Winter always feel particularly bookish to me. And while I tend to buy battered old paper backs to brave the rails with me I can't resist lining our shelves with leather-bound gilded confections. These lovely books, their covers slightly worn by the many hands that they have passed through are made to be leafed through on an autumnal or midwinters eve while ensconced in a cosy chair by the fire.

They hark back to a time when books where still objects of value, and were made to be things of beauty like this gorgeous Victorian book with its kaleidoscope marbled covers and page edges.
I can see the advantages of the Kindle (especially as I am currently hauling a rather large hard-backed novel to and fro to central London - my biceps are certainly getting a work out!) but reading a book is such a sensory experience. The feel of the cover whether it be leather, cloth or card; the smell of fresh ink and newly cut paper from a book just off the press or the musty, waxy smell of old second-hand or library books. Compared to this the Kindle offers a rather sterile experience.

I love the pretty gilding on the spines of books, they just beg to be pulled down from the bookshelf for closer inspection. And some of the engravings in the books are lovely, like this Mr Darcy-esque figure taming some unruly briars with a bill-hook! He would be welcome in my garden any day!