I remember one of the most exciting days of each week during my childhood was when the bookmobile would visit my community. In Halifax County most communities don’t have their own libraries, so a bus that has been converted to house shelves for books visits many of them on a weekly or bi-weekly basis in order to give the residents a chance to borrow books. I remember reading all the Asterix, Tin Tin, Choose Your Own Adventure and fantasy books I could get my hands on back then. I’d go though a dozen library books during a week in the summers, in addition to the many books my parents had around.
My sister had borrowed books and asked me last night if I would return them for her, since I would be going downtown on my hunt anyway. Nathan decided to come with me on the journey, since he too lacked a library card. I had never been in the Spring Garden library, so I didn’t anticipate how nice it would be to have that many books at my disposal. I found many books that I very much want to borrow soon, including some on Jung, Maritime history, jazz and psychology. Today, however, I decided to check out Charles de Lint’s The Dreaming Place (a short Newford novel that I’d been unable to find locally before) and Craig Thompson’s Blankets (an exceptionally large, nearly 600 page graphic novel) because of my affinity for the works of Mr. de Lint and the good words I’ve read and heard about Blankets.
It seems impossible that one could get lost in the library, but somehow Nathan and I managed to lose each other during our time there. After I had checked out my books I went looking for Nathan, but was unable to find him anywhere on the floor we had been on. After searching for some 10 minutes I assumed he had left for home without letting me know. When I arrived back here myself Nathan informed me that he had tried very hard to find me as well, and we were both perplexed by how we could not have run into each other.
Last night I finished reading Norwegian Wood, easily one of the best books I’ve ever read. I believe it has had a lingering impact on me, much like my other favourite book, House of Leaves did. I feel strangely melancholy now. Cerra suggested the book made me think to much, and I believe that’s part of it.
I’m listening now to Tom Cochrane’s “Washed Away” right now, and am finding it sinking in with meaning. This accoustic version has a hauntingly nostalgic quality that brings back so much. I can remember hearing it years ago when my father played the cassette the studio version was on.