The 2013 TBR (To-Be-Read) Pile Challenge

Well, this sounds like a fun one! The Roof Beam Reader blog is hosting the 2013 TBR Pile Challenge, and I think I’ll jump right in!

Roof Beam Reader

The goal is to make a list of 12 books that having been sitting on your bookshelves for longer than a year — and commit to actually reading them — FINALLY — in 2013. This sounds perfect for a book hoarder like me… just can’t help myself when it comes to used book sales, and consequently, my shelves are full to bursting with books that I still haven’t read. To qualify, only books published prior to 2012 are eligible. Books can be read in any order, and two alternates are allowed (in case one of the 12 turns out to be soooooo not my thing…).

Drumroll, please! My list for the 2013 TBR Pile Challenge:

1) Dreamers of the Day by Mary Doria Russell (complete 4/3/2013)

2) The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde (completed 7/3/2013)

3) Affinity by Sarah Waters

4) Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel (completed 7/3/2013)

5) Incendiary by Chris Cleave

6) Mariana by Susanna Kearsley (completed 1/14/2013)

7) Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir

8) Other Kingdoms by Richard Matheson

9) Horns by Joe Hill

10) The Camel Bookmobile by Masha Hamilton

11) An Abundance of Katherines by John Green

12) Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn (completed 2/5/2013)

Alternates:

1) Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta

2) Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan

Of course, it’s awfully hard to commit in advance. I have two Susanna Kearsley books and two Sarah Waters books that I want to read — is it cheating if I swap later on?

Good luck to everyone participating in the challenge! Happy reading in 2013!

Giving thanks, part 2

In my rush to finish the previous blog post and hit the kitchen to peel sweet potatoes, I neglected to include an important part of what I’d been planning to say, so here’s the addendum:

I AM THANKFUL for all the organizations working so hard to bring education, books, and literacy programs to the people and communities who need these resources so desperately.

Goodreads has a terrific list of non-profits working in these areas, and I urge everyone who cares about these causes to check it out and find a way to pitch in.

My daughter referred me to JWI (Jewish Women’s Initiative), whose good works include establishing children’s libraries in homeless shelters and shelters for victims of domestic violence and abuse. They’ve also set up a fund for rebuilding shelter libraries in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. You can find more information here.

Locally, I know that the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library not only raises funds to support our library branches, but also sponsors a Book Buddies program in which volunteers read to hospitalized children. Check out your local library organizations — you may be amazed at what they do!

I’ll add to this list as I come up with more, but couldn’t leave for Thanksgiving dinner without giving at least a brief shout-out to the organizations that make such a difference in people’s lives.

Do you know of others? Please add information and links in the comments.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Giving thanks — a bookish perspective

In another hour, I’ll head to the kitchen to start working on my contributions to the holiday meal. Meanwhile, my family and I are relaxing around the house. My son is playing video games, still in his pajamas. My husband and I just got home from a walk at the beach, where we enjoyed fresh breezes and blue skies. Before long, we’ll have to start the hustle and bustle of getting dressed and hitting the road for our Thanksgiving celebration with friends. But meanwhile, it feels a bit like I’ve managed to hit the pause button of life for just a few minutes.

In this brief lull on my Thanksgiving Day, I want to take a moment to reflect on all the small joys of life as a reader and take stock of what’s made me happy and grateful this year.

I AM THANKFUL that my family, despite their teasing and occasional complaints, understands that books matter to me and respect my need to carve out some quiet reading time every day.

I AM THANKFUL to all the wonderful people who have stopped by my blog since its birth a few months ago. Your comments and support have meant so much to me!

I AM THANKFUL to the members of my online book circles for turning me on to reading choices I might not have encountered on my own. Thank you, Goodreads friends, Outlander Book Club, Wishlist Wednesday bloggers, and more!

I AM THANKFUL to the authors of my favorite books published in 2012, including Christopher Moore, Deborah Harkness, John Green, and Libba Bray.

I AM THANKFUL to the authors who take the time to respond to questions and interact with their readers. It can’t be easy, but your graciousness is so appreciated! Special thanks to Nicole Peeler, Gail Carriger, and Lev AC Rosen, who are not only terrific writers but also just plain old good people.

I AM THANKFUL to Mary Doria Russell, who was kind enough to invite me to an appearance she did at a local high school. What a lovely, friendly, funny, and talented woman she is!

I AM THANKFUL to Diana Gabaldon for creating the much beloved Outlander series and all of its associated offshoots, and for teasing her readers with her Daily Lines on Facebook.

I AM THANKFUL to the San Francisco Public Library — and really, public libraries everywhere! — for long hours, fantastic resources, and outstanding service to the community. Thank you for letting me take out limitless books, request whatever I want, and for having so many good selections for my child!

I AM THANKFUL to have so many choices when it comes to reading. I love being able to find excellent works of fiction, not only on the bestseller lists, but also in children’s books, young adult novels, and graphic novels.

I AM THANKFUL to have the ability to walk away from books that aren’t working for me. It took me years to master the guilt of leaving a book unfinished! But I’ve gotten wiser, and now fully embrace the mantra that “life’s too short to read bad books”.

I AM THANKFUL that my daughter loves to talk books with me, and that my son — while still the most reluctant of readers — does love to listen to a good story.

I AM THANKFUL for my new bookshelves, the space to put them in, and the books, old and new, that fill them up.

I AM THANKFUL to all the writers, everywhere, who work so hard to share their creativity with all of us avid readers!

With an endless amount of books to read, I will never be bored, I will continue to learn, I will explore lands and times beyond my physical reach. And for all this and more, I am thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

 

 

Survey: You don’t like the book you’re reading. Now what?

Has this happened to you? You start a new book — perhaps one by an author you’ve enjoyed previously, or a much-hyped book, for example — and it just doesn’t work for you. Maybe it’s the subject matter. Matter the characters are unrelatable. Maybe the writing itself just doesn’t grab you, or worse, maybe it’s just not good writing.

What do you do? I’m asking sincerely, since this is where I find myself once again. I’m about 100 pages into a new book (which shall remain nameless at this point), and despite my best intentions, I’m just not feeling it. The plot is pretty scattered, there are scads of characters who seem indistinguishable one from the other, and the whole thing seems like a bit of a directionless mess at this point. And yet, I hesitate to just drop it. I’ve read several other books by the same author, and I’ve really enjoyed some of them. The author is considered tops in her genre and typically gets all sorts of awards. So maybe it will improve. On the other hand, all those books I just brought home from the library aren’t going to read themselves, and life’s too short to waste on books I don’t enjoy.

For now, I’m sticking it out, although if this were school or work, I’d say it’s on its final warning.

So tell me:

The final read-aloud, part deux

Last week, I published a blog post called “The Final Read-Aloud” about my experiences reading with my 10-year-old son and dreading the day that he decides he’s too old to be read to. My beautiful, talented, and apparently neglected-feeling daughter, age 22, pointed out that my experiences with her were quite different. In the interest of family peace, as well as presenting another view of the end of reading aloud, I thought I’d add an overview of my daughter’s evolution as a reader as well.

Let me start by saying that my husband makes fun of me whenever I bemoan the difficulty of parenting a rowdy, active boy — because he thinks that I expected this one to turn out to be another perfect little angel like his sister, and as it turns out, that wasn’t the case. Don’t get me wrong, I love ALL my children. But you know the children’s book I Love You The Purplest? That really sums up a parent’s life in a nutshell.

My daughter  was easy from day one. I could and did take her anywhere with me and she got along just fine, whether it was lunch with girlfriends, shopping expeditions, or museum outings. We hit the theaters and movies, did crafts, enjoyed dancing around the house, or just sitting and watching “The Little Mermaid” for the thousandth time. And, like me, my little angel was a reader from the get-go.

We read together every night before bed, sometimes piles of books, and she never got tired of it. When she started elementary school, she took to early phonics and reading exercises like a champ. By second grade, although we were still reading together every night, she discovered the joys of reading on her own. Her first chapter books were the junior versions of Ann M. Martin’s Babysitters Club series — The Babysitters’ Little Sister books. These were perfect for her — not too difficult, and centered around a 2nd-grade girl and her friends. After she got tired of that bunch, she graduated into the bigger kid stories in The Babysitters Club, and then on into the big, wide world of reading, no mom filters required.

BUT, we hung in there and continued reading together as well. Our read-alouds gave us the opportunity to explore books together, and gave her the chance to enjoy books that she probably would have found too difficult on her own at that point, such as The Golden Compass (those first chapters are so dense, they’re practically impenetrable). So why did we stop reading aloud together? I blame Harry Potter.

We read the first three Harry Potter books together. She’s of the lucky generation that grew up with Harry Potter, always about the same age as Harry as he grew up from book to book. On book 3, I pretty much lost my voice by the end, as we’d gotten to the really good parts and she simply would not allow me to stop reading. What could I do? I was as hooked as she was, so we pressed on.

In the year 2000, when Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was published, my lovely girl was 10 years old. We brought the book home, read a single chapter together, and boom! That’s when it happened. She decided that it was just too slow, all this reading aloud business, took the book off on her own, and plowed right through it. See ya, mom! Of course, she loved it, and I loved the book too. We just loved it separately, that’s all.

Goblet of Fire wasn’t necessarily a cold-turkey stop to reading aloud together, but it certainly marked the beginning of the end. That experience showed her, beyond a doubt, that she was a full-fledged independent reader who could handle longer, more complex stories on her own.

It didn’t feel like a sad ending of a chapter with her, probably because she has remained a devoted, avid reader all her life. Like me, she gets overly involved in her books, falls in love with the fictional worlds she visits, becomes highly invested in the characters, and likes to be surrounded by the books she loves wherever she goes. We’ve spent our whole lives together talking about books, trading books, and recommending books, and I don’t think we’ll ever stop.

Which brings me back to my son (sorry, daughter sweetie, I know this was supposed to be all about you…). I think the reason that I dread the end of our reading-aloud times is that I don’t feel confident that he’ll end up a reader. Left to his own devices so far, books are the things that he picks up when he’s forced to. I can count on one, maybe two hands, the times he’s voluntarily chosen to spend time reading. I’m afraid that once he no longer wants to be read to, he’ll fall into a book-less void.

I’m not giving up. I know I still have a job to do to get him to the point where reading is fun and exciting, and not just a chore. We’re not there yet. But we’ll get there, I hope. Onward!

The final read-aloud

The day is coming, and it’s not that far off, when the moment I dread will finally arrive: The day when my youngest child turns to me at bed-time and says, “That’s okay, Mom. You don’t need to read to me any more.”

Our bed-time reading ritual has been a daily staple since he was a newborn, when I’d lie on the bed with him and watch him kick his feet in time to the rhythms of A. A. Milne’s fabulous poetry:

Whenever I walk in a London street,
I’m ever so careful to watch my feet;
And I keep in the squares,
And the masses of bears,
Who wait at the corners all ready to eat
The sillies who tread on the lines of the street
Go back to their lairs,
And I say to them, “Bears,
Just look how I’m walking in all the squares!”

(A. A. Milne, “Lines and Square”, When We Were Very Young)

As he grew, our choice of books varied, but always, always, we’d grab a few books off the shelves, cuddle up, and dig in. During the toddler and preschool years, favorites included:

For some reason, the “corn car” always cracked us up.

Board books galore, such as Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks From A To Z (try reading this to a toddler and have him/her repeat all the car names after you. Guaranteed hilarity!); any and all of the oh-so-silly Boynton books (The Going To Bed Book and Pajama Time are special favorites of ours); the Margaret Wise Brown books, of which Big Red Barn is far and away the best.

As he grew older, we moved into the world of Seuss and friends, first the shorter classics (One Fish, Two Fish and In A People House were among the most requested), then moving on to The Cat in the Hat and all of those crazy shenanigans. As he progressed through the early elementary years, my son became hooked on some of the longer, wackier Seuss works, such as The Sneetches, I Had Trouble In Getting To Solla Sollew, and a perennial favorite, Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book.

 

 

A moose is asleep. He is dreaming of moose drinks.
A goose is asleep. He is dreaming of goose drinks.
That’s well and good when a moose dreams of moose juice.
And nothing goes wrong when a goose dreams of goose juice.
But it isn’t too good when a moose and a goose
Start dreaming they’re drinking the other one’s juice.
Moose juice, not goose juice, is juice for a moose.
And goose juice, not moose juice, is juice for a goose.
So, when goose gets a mouthful of juices of mooses
And moose gets a mouthful of juices of gooses
They always fall out of their beds screaming screams
So, I’m warning you, now! Never drink in your dreams.

(Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book)

Now that he’s a an older elementary school student, practically on the verge of middle school, his tastes have changed, although his interest in bed-time reading sessions has not. Two years ago, the boy decided he wanted to know what all this Harry Potter fuss was about and asked to watch the first movie. “Aha!” I said (paraphrasing here…), “here’s my opportunity!” and I insisted that he read the book before seeing the movie. This negotiation quickly ended with the compromise that he’d listen to the book if I’d read it to him at bedtime. And so we did. I read, he listened, he became hooked, I got to re-read a favorite series all over again and see it fresh through a child’s eyes. Ten months later, we closed Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, with me having read OUT LOUD every book in the series. (I was quite proud of myself, really — I’m not a very dramatic reader, but I do think I managed a pretty good Snape voice).

Harry Potter set us on a course of venturing into longer books and books series. We’ve read The Mysterious Benedict Society series, The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place, started (but didn’t enjoy) the Lemony Snicket books, read a few classics such as My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George and a variety of Roald Dahl books. Our current book is Chomp by Carl Hiaasen, which the author probably did not envision as a bed-time story — full of adventure and danger in the Everglades, as well as some unique and very funny characters — but we’re fully enjoying it together.

The bottom line, for me, is that our bed-time reading ritual ensures that the kid and I have quality time together at the end of each day, that we have a shared book experience to discuss and enjoy, and equally importantly from my perspective, it gives my boy, a truly reluctant reader, a chance to experience the joy of reading. It’s a struggle to get him to pick up a book and read on his own, which he is capable of doing — he’s just usually not interested or so inclined. (“Mom, I can read. I just prefer not to.”) Our night-time reading sessions let him see the beauty and excitement of a good book and experience how great it feels to be so caught up in a story that you just have to know what happens next, that you dream about the characters, that you wake up in the morning with a theory about one of the book’s mysteries.

My son is ten. He’ll be in middle school next year. He’s growing up, I know — picks out his own clothes, checks his email, going boogie-boarding with his big brother, and mostly wants to assert his independence. I’m guessing that at some time in the coming year, he’ll decide that he’s too old for all this read-aloud business. But I’m hoping it’s a ways off yet. For now, he’s definitely enjoying it, and I plan to hang in there as long as possible to keep our reading time alive.

If you’re a parent of an older child, I’d love to know: Do you still read to your kids, even it they can read on their own? If not, when did your read-alouds stop? Share your thoughts in the comments, please!

A bookish sort of romance

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just shrug my shoulders, say “mutual friends”, and leave it at that. I never really thought there was much of a story there… until my online book group told me otherwise. That group of avid readers convinced me that, for a booklover, this is a good love story indeed.

So… About 20 years ago, I moved to San Francisco, newly divorced and full-time single mother. I settled in, got a job, made some friends, and occasionally indulged myself by hiring a babysitter and going out folkdancing. (Woo hoo, wild times, right?)

I met a group of people through dancing that I could share rides with, got to know some of them, and enjoyed their company. One of this group was my husband-to-be (HTB). HTB was quite a bit older than I was, also recently divorced, father of two, nice looking, and a pretty funny guy. That was my entire impression of him. I didn’t know him as well as some of the others in the group, but my overall thought was that he liked to joke around, was always laughing, had a nice smile, and seemed like a decent person.

Then, one fateful night, we both got a ride from a friend and ended up sitting together in the backseat for the 45-minute drive home. We made small talk for a while, and somehow the conversation wound around to books. HTB did not grow up in the US. He learned English as an adult and speaks it very well, but it’s certainly not his native language. I had already learned from him that he grew up in a poor, religious household and did not get very far with his formal education, being expected to pursue a trade by his mid-teens. During our car ride, HTB started telling me about finding refuge in books during his teen years and into early adulthood, journeying to other worlds and cultures through his reading, and finding fulfillment intellectually in a way that he’d been denied by lack of schooling.

Wow. To think that this nice, light-hearted guy was a booklover like me! True, our paths to reading were very, very different, but there we were, chatting in a car about the books that had had an impact on our lives. He mentioned several books by Gabriel Garcia Marquez that he had loved, and then he began telling me about one book in particular that had had a huge impact on him. It was, he said, a series of letters from a young man to his mother. The young man had left his home country to seek a life elsewhere, and through his letters, we see his experiences adjusting to his new life and culture. HTB said he’d found the book incredibly moving and interesting — but unfortunately, he wasn’t sure about the title. He’d read the book in his native language, not in English, but even then, it was a translation from the original. The title was something like… Letters to China? Letters to Taiwan? Something with letters. That’s all he remembered.

That car ride changed my life. My eyes were opened to a whole different side of HTB, and from that day onward, we began to talk more, hang out, spend time together, and ultimately… well, this is a love story, after all! We started dating seriously within a month or so, and never looked back. This year marks 19 years of our relationship, 14 years since we tied the knot and made it official. We’ve bought a home, combined our families, and added another child of our own.

But you know, I never really forgot about that car ride and the conversation. I’d tried to look up the book he’d mentioned soon afterward, but didn’t have enough information to go on and never ended up figuring out which book it was.

And then — last year — I attended my favorite bookish event, the Big Book Sale sponsored by the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library. The Big Book Sale is an annual sale of used books that raises money for the library, and is just heaven on earth for book folks. (See my recap of this year’s event here). While browsing the fiction tables and filling up my cart with all sorts of goodies, a certain book cover caught my eye. It was this:

I knew as soon as I saw that this was the long-lost book that HTB had told me about almost twenty years earlier! Letters From Thailand, written by an author named Botan, translated into English from the original Thai by Susan Kepner. Needless to say, I bought it (after jumping up and down a few times).

When I got home that night, I practically bounced all the way down the hall to find my husband and proudly held up the book, shouting something unintelligible along the lines of “LOOK! IT’S THE BOOK!” Once he got over thinking that I was a lunatic, dear HTB did in fact confirm that I’d found the book that he’d loved so many years ago.

So there we are. In a certain way, this is the book that brought my husband and me together and helped us fall in love. The book itself? I read it and enjoyed it, although it wasn’t as life-changing for me at this stage in my life as it was for HTB so many years ago, as an under-educated young man trying to find his way and looking for more.

Romantic? Well, as a booklover, I’d say our is definitely a tale of epic romance!

And, in fact, although I am by far the book fanatic in our household, we do share a love of reading to this day, and our lives continue to be enriched by the books we share, discuss, and even argue about.

Scoring big at the Big Book Sale

Nirvana. Paradise. Garden of Eden. The Promised Land.

If you’re a book lover living in the San Francisco Bay Area, you can get to heaven simply by heading over to Ft. Mason this week, where the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library are holding their 48th Annual Big Book Sale. According to the event website, over 500,000 items are on sale, all benefiting the SFPL’s literacy programs. It’s an amazing event, truly. Filling a warehouse-sized building, there are tables and tables filled with books of every shape, size, and subject, from tattered to pristine, from fiction to the most esoteric of topics and then some. For most of the sale, all hardcovers are $3 and paperbacks are $2 — but if you want the biggest bargain of all, stop by on Sunday when everything is $1.

Tuesday night was member preview night, which I’ve attended for the past several years. Doors opened at 4:00; when I arrived at about 3:30, the line snaked all the way around the building and down the side of the adjacent pier. I couldn’t help but get a thrill walking by all the early birds on the way to the back of the line — these are my peeps! A crowd full of book folks! People as crazed as I am, showing up with boxes, tote bags, and granny carts, chattering excitedly about what they hoped to find and what tables they planned to hit first.

My friend and I used our waiting time wisely, scoping out the map of the floor plan and plotting our order of attack: Start with science fiction and fantasy, then horror, then move on to regular fiction. Time allowing, we’d probably split up after that: me to kids’ books, graphic novels, and science; her to literary criticism, travel, and occult. Of course, once the doors opened, we were swept up in the mass rush for good books, four hours flew by in the blink of an eye, and I never did make it much further than fiction. C’est la vie.

I went to the sale with a very short wish list this year. Having spent this past weekend putting books on my new bookshelves, I went to the sale damned sure that I’d keep my purchases to a minimum. I have plenty to read in my house already!*

*I’m quite certain that if I bought no new books and took nothing out of the library for an entire year, and spent the year reading only those books already on my shelves which I haven’t read yet,  I would not run out of reading material by the end of that year. I actually thought about setting this up as a challenge for myself — my year of no new books! — but where’s the fun in that?

However, my good intentions flew out the window once I entered the sale. My tally for the night: 44 books for $88. I never did find the book I most hoped to find. (Note: If you go to the sale and happen to spot a copy of Doc by Mary Doria Russell, grab it for me!)

I did walk out with quite a satisfying haul:

  • For someone who professes not to be a fan of short stories, I sure ended up with a bunch of short story collections. Among them, four (4!!!) books of Stephen King stories, Sherman Alexie’s Ten Little Indians, Roald Dahl’s Book of Ghost Stories, a Norton anthology of science fiction, and a big fat volume entitled Treasures of Fantasy.
  • I managed to pick up some mint condition copies of classic works of science fiction by Philip K. Dick, Robert Heinlein, and Greg Bear.
  • Lots of people seemed to have off-loaded ARCs this year. My finds included ARCs of Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler, Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore, Seraphina by Rachel Hartman, and The House of Velvet and Glass by Katherine Howe.
  • I found lovely hardcover copies of The Thorn Birds and The Good Earth, both books I read and adored years ago, but which I’d lost or misplaced in various moves over the years.
  • I replaced a few books, lost when loaned out to friends who never returned them… you know who you are. Don’t worry, all is forgiven. Just don’t ask to borrow any more books.
  • Picked up — dirt cheap — various volumes in series I’ve been meaning to read, including books by Karen Marie Moning, Seanan McGuire, Patrick Rothfuss, and Jasper Fforde.
  • Plus, several other fiction titles, some very new, some I’ve always wanted to read, some I’ve read as library books but always wished to have on my shelves.

Ahhh. The pleasure of being surrounded by people who adore books, pawing through stacks and piles of paperbacks and hardcovers, looking for the gems among the thousands of books on display.

Then there are the books which I have already and love insanely. Every time I’d see a Diana Gabaldon book, I’d have to touch it and say hello. (Don’t judge me; I wasn’t being creepy or anything.) Whenever I came across something by Christopher Moore, I’d have to stifle a giggle — just seeing his books makes me laugh.

Of course, on the flip side, every time I came across a book I’d bought during the past year for more than $3, I wanted to kick myself. When will I learn? Every year, I leave the Big Book Sale resolved to not buy any more books until the next sale rolls around. Sadly, I never manage to live up to my resolutions.

What more can I say? Awesome event, great selections, amazing bargains, and all for a good cause. Check it out!

It’s survey time! Bookshelvers, unite!

I’m obsessing over my shiny new bookshelves. What goes on the new shelves? What stays on the old ones? Are some shelves more special than others? Which books belong together? Which books should never touch? I could spend hours, days, weeks searching for the answers to these important questions… and so I turn to you, o wise booklovers: Tell me all your secrets!

Thanks for sharing! Check back for results!

 

Can we build it? Yes, we can!

Remember this?

The glory of an empty wall.

And these?

Lonely, shelfless books, left to fend for themselves in brown paper bags.

Wall, meet books. Books, meet wall. NEW BOOKSHELVES ARE IN THE HOUSE!

Our great and glorious bookshelf-building project commenced this weekend, and I’m so happy, I probably glow.

Here’s what’s happened so far:

An unimpressive pile of boxes? Think again. Treasure lurks within.

Step 1: The nice Ikea delivery people dropped off these skinny, unassuming cardboard boxes.

World’s best 10-year-old assembler of shelving units.

Step 2: With some skilled help, we begin sticking pegs into holes and other challenging carpentry tasks.

That’s one, one, one bookshelf up against the wall.

Step 3:  The first is done! Four more to go. Can we do it?

Going strong! Up to three!

Step 4: The master builder (aka, my husband) gets involved. We live in earthquake country, so no furniture installation is complete without wall brackets and other fun anti-falling-down measures.

FIVE! The magic number is FIVE!

Step 5: Built, mounted, dusted, and ready! Now all we need are some books. Where can we get some of those?

Where to start?

Oh, yeah, we’ve got books.

The first shelf.

An auspicious moment: placing the very first set of books on the very first shelf. I felt like saying a quick Shehechiyanu (it’s a Jewish thing). Pride of place went to my various graphic novel collections, which have been languishing in undignified piles for far too long. Love ya, Buffy! You too, Fables! Welcome home!

Shaking with excitement or exhaustion? Or just poor photography skills? Either way, it’s a glorious sight!

Et voila! I plan to spend the next several day sorting and shelving. What joy! And just in the nick of time, too. Tomorrow night is the Big Book Sale of the public library, and I can’t imagine that I’ll be coming home empty handed.

I HAVE SHELVES! I feel like a kid in a candy store. Time to go indulge!