The Smell of Books

With fall's arrival my mind turns to books and reading. If there's a hint of early color to the leaves outside, my thoughts are redirected all the more. By the time there's dew on the grass, frost on the pumpkin, and steam when I speak, it's full-on book mode. It's at this time that self-absorbing reveries increase as summer's exuberance wanes, against cooler temperatures and the more meditative frame of mind autumn ushers in. With this mental shift, the world of literature takes on a newfound significance, inviting me to remember why I love to read in the first place.

And while I'm at it, the smell of books is a beautiful thing too, isn't it? Any book lover can tell you, often in terms waxing poetic, about the exhilaratingly rich oxygen that exudes from the printed page. This is especially true of those careered volumes that have lived a few years on a book shelf, be it a public institution or a private library. For the lucky book-handler wandering the stacks, there's the serendipity of discovery; the joy of cradling the chosen tome; the tactile sensation of locating a particular passage; and then the realization that he has but one choice: a nosedive into the book's spine for some rarified air.

Odd perhaps, but for the like-minded, it's one of life's little pleasures.

Clay tablets, papyrus manuscripts, vellum parchments, books: what's your favorite thing about books (besides reading them, of course)?

Do you have any special connection with books that seems out of the ordinary? If so, let us know what makes a book tick for you.

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