Favourite book you own
Every book I own is my favourite book. I love all my books – the books I owned as a kid which are now (mostly) on my daughter’s bookshelves; the books I read to my kids which are now (mostly) downstairs on a bookshelf; the books I’ve purchased at secondhand stores and Indigo and Costco and the library book sale; books I’ve ordered from Abe and Book Closeouts and Chapters. Some people read a book and pass it on. I sometimes lend them, but then I worry about them constantly like a mother worries about children she’s sent out to play. Will they return unharmed? In one piece? At all? Sometimes I write in books. Sometimes I fold over corners. Sometimes I stick my nose in the valley made between the pages. Sometimes I drop them in the tub or spill something on them or break their spines. But I do it all with love. I love unread books waiting for me to choose them. I love those I’ve read and reread, lined up on my bookshelves (beautifully made by my brother, Tom) – each one special because of the time I’ve spent with it.
All my books are favourite books.