James Salter over at The New Yorker reviews Jaques Bonnet’s memoir on living with books:
A private library of good size is an insolent form of riches, and the desire to have more books is difficult to rationalize, especially in view of the fact that you do not or cannot read them all but, as Bonnet makes clear, still you might. The bibliophile is, after all, like a sultan or khan who has countless wives already but another two or three are always irresistible.
The love of books, the possession of them, can be thought of as an extension of one’s self or being, not separate from a love of life but rather as an extra dimension of it, and even of what comes after. “Paradise is a library,” as Borges said.
Second round of painting to begin here. In between, will be turning the pages on Bee Season by Myla Goldberg – this after seeing the film and having some questions of my own. Also waiting on the side table are The Collected Stories of Grace Paley with The Night Visitor and other stories by B. Traven waiting on reserve for me at the libary.
By the way – The Brunette told me I’m not to take the Sultan thing too seriously…she said seriously…
[image via over lezers ,boeken ,letters en cijfers…]