Booked for reading

I am told that Barnes and Noble will soon be in India. The first time I went into one was in New York, a small branch in the mall very close to where I went to college. It soon became a source of comfort, nourishment and oblivion for me, as I browsed through shelves, debated whether I could afford some volume or the other I coveted and sat curled into a chair reading everything from bodice-ripper romances to blood-soaked mysteries to deep pontifications on life, the universe and the syntax of Fino-Ugric (that was not voluntary, it was for a class paper I had to write for a teacher I actually liked and responded well to).

Bookstores have always been a must-go destination for me. This morning I was at one, trying to use up the time between appointments at the in-house café (no, they were not social gigs, but business dates). But it was hardly a time and situation conducive to doing the browsing that any bookshop deserves. I had one eye on my watch, one finger on the keys of my mobile phone texting people who were supposed to have been there ages earlier, and one ear out for the darn gizmo to start its ringing to signal arrivals. So in the melee I missed out on the leisurely troll along the shelves that I revel in.

These days my book buying seems to be all on email. I find a book on an Internet site, or someone tells me about one on the phone or via email, or I read about it in a magazine somewhere, some time. Then I follow up on it online, try and see if I want it, and then go looking for it. In a bookstore? Nah, not today. What I do is email my friendly neighbourhood bookseller, who does occasionally write back to me, and then we negotiate the wheres and whens and I may have the book to hold a few weeks from then. It is satisfying in that I am not wasting time getting to the store and I do get the book eventually. But it is not the same as actually holding in your hand before you buy it, leafing through its pages, feeling the paper, reading the blurbs, seeing the cover…all those things that make buying books so much pleasure.

But just to keep honours even, this morning I managed to buy a book. Two, in fact. I did it simply and fairly painlessly, in the bookstore I was in. I stood in front of the selection that had attracted my attention, called my father to find out what he already had, got a response over sms and then chose what I wanted, all in about ten minutes flat, total, though spread over a couple of hours between meetings. I also got another that I had earlier but that someone had ruthlessly appropriated without so much as a by your leave (actually, I lent it to her, she asked if she could keep it and I agreed, more fool me), because we both liked it so much. And I did some minor prowling around for more, but the boss was demanding my presence back at work and I had to scurry out too soon.

One day I will take time off and go book shopping. Until then, my email account will be kept busy and buzzing with book-knowledge!