I haven't gone the library route since I tend to read in bed and have been known to crush a book or two past the point of further worth for book collectors, or probably for libraries, possibly for thrift shops.
Interlibrary transfer, what a great thing. My ex requested a copy of Fanny Butler's Diary, whatever the exact name was, and got quite an old copy, as in mid eighteen hundreds, through our local LA county library from an Ohio library. He renewed and renewed that (no one else requested it for months) and based a screenplay on those diary pages. That screenplay never did get optioned, though someone years later made a teleplay about F. Butler with Jane Seymour in the role (I think). He, in contrast to me, never wrinkled a page or scarred any book, as far as I ever saw. I never did read the book (the book probably being lucky in that), but I heard a great deal about it and read that screenplay dozens of times.
On taking a book out of the house, I recognize the primal fear of doing such a thing, Noddy, but urge you to be brave and free and have a wonderful time with book(s) in tow.
Begging to report:
I'm home. So are both books.
Who knows what social barriers I'll tackle next?
Eek, missed noting your timing, Noddy. Hope you had a swell time.
Realized after I posted it that I'd told that F. Kemble Butler diary story before here. Oh well. Still, viva the libraries.
Now, please don't drop those books in a puddle betwixt your place and the library...
Osso--
I had a wonderful time.
Good stories should be told and retold. That was a good story.
Welcome back! Glad you and the books all had a good time.
Soz--
Thanks.
For an encore....
I'm still marvelling about the thought, the very thought of taking books to NYC.
There are miles of books at the Strand, and someone took books to NYC!
The very thought.
EhBeth--
I had a morning of frenzied greed in May and own 103 1/2 books that I haven't read yet.
NYC was enlivened by a cozy NC murder and a common-sense Montana murder. The cozy murder was particularly comforting when I found that Martz Transit had cancelled my bus home because of the Pocono congestion from the NASCAR races. I clattered back and forth between the public telephone and the boarding lines and when I'd called everyone I could think of, I crawled into a book.
I am a woman of wild abandonment, but my shelving space is limited.
