Slightly Foxed

...is the name of a periodical I subscribe to, that advises me on strange old books from another century. Their choices are eclectic, but have never let me down. What is more likely to let me down one day is the floor, with the weight of books it supports.

I grew up in bookish households: everyone in our extended family has become an avid reader, even those who struggled at first. I believe I did too, initially, tracing with my finger the Montessori sandpaper letters on red or blue backgrounds. I was learning with my senses, the kinaesthetic approach.

Later, I ripped up books, because I liked the sound, apparently, and once I started, I could not stop! I even tore up my sister's favourite book, and I am not sure she has forgiven me for this! I tore up the press cuttings from my brief career as a child fashion model in the Irish Times. Eventually, after a desolate period of crying in my cot, face pressed against the bars, because I was only allowed the same old cloth book, time after time, I was weaned of the habit.

In retrospect, I merely traded one addiction for another, because ever since I remember having pocket money, I've spent it on books. I even spend money that I haven't got on books. A large box of 'bargains' arrived yesterday, and so it is that he piles of 'to-reads 'on the shelf by the window grow ever larger.

Books are obviously my friends. I don't think this is too sad, as they don't have lice, they don't smell, and they are always there! I heard today about the death of Maeve Binchy, the Dublin writer, and straight away I was back at the bedside of my aunt in Cardiac Intensive Care in a Toronto hospital. There was a second hand book stand on the ground floor, and every day I'd buy another tatty paperback to read, then pass it on to my mother or cousin, until it had done the rounds, and gone back to the stall. Say what you like about Maeve Binchy's writing style and formulaic approach, but her books certainly helped pass the long, long hours we kept vigil in the hospital with its bleeping machines and frequent 'code blue' emergencies.

I have an iPad with a kindle app, which is impossible to read in sunlight, but I'd only buy a kindle if a long holiday seemed likely. The joy of searching out physical copies of books in second hand stores or even on the net, is not something that can be compared to the purchase or pirating of mere data files.

Retro effects have been applied to this photo, in an effort to recreate my childhood experiences in Dublin, reading in the conservatory adjacent to 'the study'. It also seems decidedly retro to have, in 2012, such tottering piles of paper in every room bar the bathroom!