The coolest part, I would imagine, is the feeling of holding in your hands the book to be given away, especially if it’s one you really love, and thinking about what that book (and, if you’ll permit a moment of grandeur, reading itself) has meant to you and might mean to this person to whom you’re bestowing it. It’s a moment of pure potential energy, like the few seconds on Christmas morning between waking up and swinging your feet over the bedside. I get the shivers just thinking about it.
All this WBN jealousy got me thinking about that moment and about the gesture of handing someone a beloved book, which led to a question: of all the books I’ve read, if I could only give out one book, which would it be and why?
All this WBN jealousy got me thinking about that moment and about the gesture of handing someone a beloved book, which led to a question: of all the books I’ve read, if I could only give out one book, which would it be and why?
