I LOVE the Smell of Books
There is nothing, to me, so wonderful as the smell of an old book. Its pages open, the bindary cracking as I thumb through, looking for pictures and interesting stories. I feel like I am taken back in time and I would much rather read a very old copy than A new one; of anything.
When I was a little girl, I loved the atmosphere of the city library. Once in a while my mom would take me to there where I was free to browse. I wandered through all the isles looking for old books to take down just to smell them. I would open the book somewhere in the middle, blow all the air out of my lungs, stick my nose inside, and inhale all that wonderful old-book smell. The pages of the 1940's and 50's publications were the best. I liked to look at the old type and wonder about the people who put the books together.
The art was interesting too. I looked at the pen-and-ink drawings or black and white photographs and think about why a person would use only green or red with black. "Probably because it was hard to do more than one color", I thought. It didn't matter what kind of pictures a book had, they all smelled good to me.
Today I own a lot of books. Some very old ones (1919) and some very new (2005). And some inbetween. I like to smell them all. The texture of the paper and the type of ink used makes a difference, some smell better than others, but I enjoy them just the same. Of course I still like to take a walk through the library and sneak a few sniffs every once in a while.
When I was a little girl, I loved the atmosphere of the city library. Once in a while my mom would take me to there where I was free to browse. I wandered through all the isles looking for old books to take down just to smell them. I would open the book somewhere in the middle, blow all the air out of my lungs, stick my nose inside, and inhale all that wonderful old-book smell. The pages of the 1940's and 50's publications were the best. I liked to look at the old type and wonder about the people who put the books together.
The art was interesting too. I looked at the pen-and-ink drawings or black and white photographs and think about why a person would use only green or red with black. "Probably because it was hard to do more than one color", I thought. It didn't matter what kind of pictures a book had, they all smelled good to me.
Today I own a lot of books. Some very old ones (1919) and some very new (2005). And some inbetween. I like to smell them all. The texture of the paper and the type of ink used makes a difference, some smell better than others, but I enjoy them just the same. Of course I still like to take a walk through the library and sneak a few sniffs every once in a while.