When I was in Dallas a few weeks ago for meetings, I found time to get to a Half Price Books store one evening. I grew to love this used bookstore chain when I lived in Indy and truly miss it as there are none in Orlando. (Dear Half Price: Please come to central Florida. Yours, Ruth)
As I am one who often “discovers” authors long after they’ve been popular for a while, a used bookstore is the perfect place (along with the library) for finding previously published treasures. I admit that I like to own books rather than borrow them because I do a good bit of my reading while traveling and like the option of trading out.
Maybe that’s an excuse. Maybe I like to own them because I like they way they look on shelves. And I like stuff.
You can get more than books at Half Price Books. You can also find music (in various forms) movies and video games. They also often have a small selection of book-releated junk like those battery operated lights you can clip to a book for reading in the dark and tote bags for carrying all your books. These are among the few products they carry “new” instead of “used.”
I love books.
That said, I feel the need (full disclosure and all that) to tell you that I’m not as much of a reader as my bookshelves might imply. I’m a reader like some people play sports — love to do it mostly, but don’t do it often so I’m not as nimble as I would be if I did it more. Sometimes feel guilty about not doing it more. Sometimes feel guilty about having so much underused equipment for doing a thing I don’t do that often. “Sometimes” is not that often — but predictably flares up when I’m around people who are just this side of pathological about it.