This life lesson post is about books. I love books. I am a bibliophile. I have more books in my house than I have places to store them. When I was a child, my books were my best friends. I would retreat into the worlds of "The Phantom Tollbooth", "The Narnia Chronicles", "The Magic Far Away Tree", "The Secret Seven", "The Famous Five," "White Fang", "Black Beauty", "Little Women", and "The Carbonel Trilogy." Each weekend, my mum would buy me one new book, and I would read it from cover to cover the same day she bought it.

I love the anticipation of a new book by your favourite author being released. I screamed when Terry Goodkind's latest book was published and promptly ordered it off amazon.com. Of course, with postage, I paid $100 for a first edition, US printed hardback copy of said book, but I didn't care. I will do it again when book 7 comes out.

I also love old and rare books. A first edition copy of "The Maciejowski Bible", a 12th century illuminated manuscript, set me back $75US. That's the most I've ever paid for a book. And I don't regret it at all. When I die, the Big Mac as I affectionately call it, gets left to vayshti, who drooled at the book when she saw it.

For my 20th birthday, my mum bought me the new release hard back of David Eddings' "Sorceress of Darshiva." I had been waiting a year for this book, it was released the week before my birthday. I've always thought it very kind of publishers to release books in time for my birthday. With the exception of "Order of the Phoenix" and the forthcoming book 7 of the Goodkind novels, every book I've eagerly awaited the release of has come out for my birthday. Very considerate of the publishers.

Anyway, mum took me to lunch and gave me the book. After lunch, I went to the railway station to get the train home. At the time, I was living in a beach side suburb called Hallet Cove. It was a 1 1/4 hour train trip each way between home and town, so I was eager to get on the train and read. I had a fifteen minute wait until my train arrived, so I sat down in the station and opened my new book.

I love the way a new book smells. It's got that fresh-off-the-press smell, that clean and 'no one has read me yet' smell to it. It's like a special gift has been deposited in your hands, and you are privvy to the secrets contained within. Anyway, I was halfway through the prologue of my book, when a gentleman sat down next to me.

"Hi," he said. I grunted, still reading my book. I thought if I ignored him, he would go away and I could read in peace.

"Not very talkative are you?" he said conversationally. Again, I replied with the ubiquitous grunt.

"What are you reading?" he asked cheerfully, trying to see the dust jacket.

"A book," I replied, dead pan, not looking up.

"Oh. What sort of book?"

"A thick book."

He pondered this answer for a moment before quizzing me yet again. "Is it a good book?"

This time I did look at him. I gave him the patented Starkiller Glare of Doom (TM) and said frostily, "I don't know. I just got it. You've been talking to me and I have read two pages. I would like to continue reading in peace. Don't take this personally, but please be quiet."

He stared at me for a moment and then - incredibly - said, "So you like reading fantasy novels, do you? Bit weird for a young woman."

This time, when I did look at him, I noticed he was wearing one of those badges that identified him as a Scientologist. My reply was rude. "That's rich coming from someone who worships a dead science fiction author and believes in a fictitious universe based upon a very bad science fiction novel, whose organisation extorts money from its loyal and stupid followers in the misguided belief that the dead idiot who wrote the shit science fiction novel will swoop down from the heavens in his magic space ship and carry his chosen people away to a fictitious land. Get a life."

And with that, I got up, and went and caught my train.

Yes, I do remember that little speech. I'd written it down when I got on the train and put it in my journal when I got home. *G*

Books, man. Love my books.

Questions? Comments? Wanna stroke my ego? Then e-mail me.