Welcome to my new series of posts Musing by Moonlight, where I take the opportunity to get off my chest anything and everything to do with books.
Or maybe not.
Depends how I feel.
Today I’ll be talking about the biggest reason I don’t feel like I fit in with other book bloggers. It’s a shameful confession, one I’ve kept secret for too long now. However, today I am spilling all! I cannot be the only book blogger who feels this way!
I don’t like the smell of books.
New, old, somewhere in between. Libraries, bookshops, attics. Nope.
I feel like a fraud. How can I be a book lover, book collector, cover worshipper, paperback-loving gal if I don’t enjoy a good whiff of new or old books?
How can I own bookshelves upon groaning bookshelves of gorgeous hardcovers and paperbacks, visit my local bookstore every time I venture into the city, and think of my library as my own personal worshiping place if I don’t like the smell of books?
I feel like everyone else who loves books loves the smell of them. I don’t. They’re dead trees. They smell like smoke and burnt and processed things to me. I don’t like the smell of the pages or the glue.
It doesn’t stop me from buying paperbacks, but I most certainly will not be indulging in things like this:
Yuck! Who wants to smell like a musty old book shop? Who wants to smell like glue and binding and dead, mummified trees?
I suspect this is part of the reason why I don’t have a problem reading ebooks. A lot of other readers say they love the tactile and olfactory senses used when reading books. I just don’t get it.
Please tell me I’m not the only book lover who doesn’t like the smell of books.