Chris Bursk’s poem “In with the New, Out with the Old” [July 2008] gives me hope that I am not the only bibliophile left on the planet. I am having floor-to-ceiling bookcases installed in my home, despite having been told by realtors that it might reduce the value of the property because “buyers will be intimidated by all that bookshelf space.” I cannot imagine ceding the physical presence of books to technology. I love seeing them there, stalwart on their shelves, waiting to be picked up and read again or for the first time. The feel and smell of them are intoxicating, especially the old ones — some of which my great-great-grandfather held and read.
At first read I thought I would e-mail this letter, but I decided it needed to be written out with a pencil — a Papermate #2. No erasures, just cross-outs and arrows. I had forgotten how good it feels to write this way.