Why is that libraries, though similar in purpose to bookstores, don’t possess the same romantic qualities?
Perhaps because of the lack of commitment required of a library book? Here, I walk in, pick up whatever strikes me as interesting, check it out, and that’s that. No money required, little thought is demanded, and if I don’t like it, I can just drop it off in the return bin tomorrow.
Bookstores, however, are quite different. Rarely am I able to pick a book off a shelf and leave within five minutes. No, bookstores demand a greater commitment. If I am going to spend an ungodly amount of money on a stack of bound paper, then I want to be sure that it’s worth my while. I’ll carefully read the back, perhaps look over the table of contents, maybe glance through the pages. I’ll carry the book around the store with me for a while as I look over the other options. Is this really the book that I want? Will I be proud to have it displayed on my shelf for years to come? Will I regret the time and money invested in it later?
Am I still talking about books? Or is this post really about men?
You be the judge.