I am the child of a mean mom, I am all too familiar with the word no and the fact that when it is spoken it is final.
Except for books.
My mother, for all the times she has told me no. No, I can’t have five or ten bucks for a souvenir at the gift shop. No, I can’t get that Barbie. No, you don’t need that candy. Jesus Christ, NO you do not need any stuff, it’s just stuff! Whenever I handed her a book with wide blue eyes, that book was as good as mine.
Of course, she regrets that now as she currently has a four drawer filing cabinet full of my books that I don’t yet have space for. But of all the addictions she could and did saddle me with, this is hardly the worst.
I cannot say no when it comes to books. Even music, which I tend to enjoy more than reading, I stop and think that it isn’t worth crawling into the next payday with pennies to my name. But books, even ones I am ninety percent sure I will never read, I would go bankrupt for.
This is why I should never go into Goodwill unsupervised. While the ten to twenty dollar range most books have new makes enough of a pause for common sense to kick in, when slightly used and obscure books are only two to five dollars a piece it’s too easy to grab an armload and walk out the door before you realize both the lack of space for them and the fact that fifteen dollars worth could be better spent on groceries and other vital things toward living.
But I did, I was in the area with nothing to do and no-one to do it with. In all honesty, I went in there looking for a ten-inch skillet with which to cook healthy things. And, even with not finding it, I still turned down a fifteen dollar Papasan chair that I have wanted since forever.
Those damn books though! They just kept popping up at me over and over again, and the only thing that stopped me was the fact that my arms couldn’t hold any more without looking like Gus Gus from Cinderella.
And what treasures I found!
Something More by Sarah Ban Breathnach, that my mother has been hunting for years which is terribly hard to find in print.
A tiny dictionary for my tiny apartment as I only have my grandfathers twenty pounder from forty years ago.
Nietzsche’s The Genealogy of Morals, an author I wanted to try reading since A Fish Called Wanda.
Exploring Ethics by Steven M. Cahn, which will give new insight into all sides of the big issues I want to learn more about to strengthen my own stances.
Building a Character by Constantin Stanislavski which is targeted for actors but I think (again if I actually read it) will translate into writing characters too.
The Comedy of Survival by Joseph W. Meeker, which promises to be a very good read about how comedy and tragedy are part of the natural evolution of the human race.
And then because I can never walk away without books specific to writing…
Writing fiction by Janet Burroway, because I don’t already have dozens of books on the subject and need one more distraction from actually acting upon becoming a writer.
Careers for Writers, because retail fucking sucks and I would love to actually work as a writer. If this book can point me down a path that will get me working with books and the written word professionally, it’s two dollars well spent.
But which to start first? And dear god, now where do I put them? Anyone care to donate a bookcase?