Liter-bug (short "i" sound)

In the back of my mind, I can't help but feel like I am contributing to the downfall of literate society. I resisted doing something like this thing here because I don't like the way a lot of technology is affecting the English language. It leads me to believe that many in our society have a secret addiction to nitrous oxide. How else can you explain the gatling gun of "lol"s that barrage me anytime I engage people in an online forum? I actually do know people who laugh that much in a conversation, but they are merely the exception that proves the rule.

The import of my grievance is that I treasure this wacky little toungue of ours. It may not have the same controlled complexity and subtlety of Chinese, or the lilting passion of the Romance languages, or any other of the wonderful qualities as the countless languages that dot this wet little marble we call home, but it's ours, and I'm pretty proud of what we've done with it. One of my efforts in life is to share that love that I feel in mind and in my heart. The best way to share language is easy: books.

To say that I am a voracious reader would be a bit of an exaggeration. It's a bit like a love affair; I get what I can, when I can, and only when I'm in the mood and the content suits me. When I do read, I don't waste my time with pop young adult novels that get all of the attention and get movies made that draw in droves of obsessed fans who only end up disappointed. Not that I'm knocking film adaptations of books though. Gone With the Wind was just that, and it's one of the best ever made (or at least one of my favorites). I don't read books; I read literature. Does that make me sound snobbish enough? What I mean is that when I read, I want to work for it. I don't read as a simple escape fantasy, I've got plenty of other ways to do that. If it does happen to strike me, I don't shun it, it just isn't my primary reason for picking up a book. I need to feel stimulated and challenged; intellectually, emotionally, artistically. Reading for me is a full experience, and I welcome it. For this reason I treasure books. I read them, and keep them, and wear them out until I fear that they may come apart if I read it just one more time. Each one I finish is a conquered enemy; a sparring partner who remains as a trophy unto itself to remind me of what it has taught me. I make a conscious effort to expand my personal library, and so far I've done pretty well for a guy my age. You may not be able to judge a book by its cover, but you can judge a man by the books he keeps.

I seek out only the most worthy of foes. I was in a large chain book store today, and quite frankly, I was rather disappointed. Most of the books I saw were of the more popular persuasion, new big hits on the Amazon list and Oprah's Book Club. I can forgive the graphic novels, self-help books, and all other manner of reading material that people enjoy, but the thing that got me was the quality of established literary canon. Cheap reprints were wrapped up in flashy paperback covers adorned with rediculous pictures that make the paintings in my dentist's waiting room look like the Sistine Chapel. Is this how we treat the greatest works of our language and culture? Sure there were one or two nicer prints with quality hardbound covers, but they were tucked to the side, and four to five times more expensive. I understand the cost differences in printing, but why must the quality goods be hidden like the hideous, deformed twin locked in the attic? On the one hand, the high price pleases me as it reflects the value of the book itself, but on the other, it limits who is able to buy them, including my broke ass.

My hunting grounds are the book fairs. Everyone from churches, to YMCAs, to garage sales offer libraries of tomes that are rediculously low in price. A single sawbuck will get me a bag-full of quality works. Books that are worn and have been loved; books with character. These are the books that I love. Brand new books feel so sterile, like a hospital room. They have that smell, they won't stay open; it's like they don't want to be read. Not like the book fair books. Each page is coated with the dust of appreciation and experience. Through one reason or another, they were forced to part ways from their owners, but good people like me come and rescue them to be read and loved again.

What can I say? My heart has worms. Book worms to be exact.