|
 | ||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||
 | ||||||||||||||||||
• Anyway... Anyway... Several decades ago, there was an episode of the "Twilight Zone" that featured Burgess Meredith as a man who loved to read. Somehow, he managed to escape an ex-plosion that wiped out the residents of his city. He found himself in the library, with nothing to do and no one to bother him -- alone with the books. And then he dropped, and broke, his glasses. And I felt the anguish of the moment, because I, too, am a glutton for books. This has gotten me into trouble. The coffee table in our house is buried under stacks of books. The dining room table has disappeared, under the books. There are piles of books everywhere. And I recently, in a moment of weakness, rejoined the Book of the Month Club and the Quality Paperback Book Club. They shouldn't be allowed to mail the forms recruiting new members to people like me, who can’t be trusted to control their acquisition of books. Offering five books for a dollar is, to me, like serving homemade fudge to a chocoholic. Bibliophiles anonymous, anyone? |
||||||||||||||||||
)
)
)
)
)
© 2010 New England Newspapers, Inc. |