By James L. (JimiJam)
I have always been what we classify as “a Reader”. Surely, there was a time before which I had not yet gained the ability as such, and, of that time, I do have a number of memories. Once that most essential of skills was acquired, however, there was never again a time in which a passion for
photo by James L.
reading did not exist in my life. Even learning to read itself was something to which I took with an inordinate amount of dedication; I learned by way of a series of phonics tapes, and distinctly remember, upon completion of one cassette, begging for the next lesson.
I remember the joy of joining what could properly be considered my first “book club”, receiving a steady supply of “I Can Read” books, beginning 
with the first in that series, Danny and the Dinosaur. I remember coming home from kindergarten with my primer, running with it clutched to my chest, into my room, and reading it from cover to cover by the end of that very first day. I remember my first sparsely illustrated chapter book, Albert in Wonderland, read over the course of several evenings in the time before bed.
Looking back on those days in such clear retrospection, it amuses me to observe the one thing missing from those memories: a realization that my love for reading was anything even remotely out of the ordinary. Our school certainly made the practice seem normal enough, first through the Book It! reward program, then followed by Accelerated Reader’s points-based system, each requiring that we read a number of books each month. Naturally, it seemed to me that reading was simply the way one was meant to use one’s free time. It wasn’t until around the age of ten, by which time I had begun reading books like The Three Musketeers, that others took note of what was apparently an odder sort of habit than I had thought.
Kansas City Public Library
Kalocsa Episcopal Library
Even while I continued to earn puzzled glances throughout the remainder of grade school and junior high, it wasn’t until high school that I truly saw how uniquely integral reading had become for me. By that time it had become somewhat impressive to a select few, who themselves knew an intense love for reading. We would exchange titles or volumes which we had found particularly entertaining or educational, sharing ever-broadening horizons with each other. When moving from one classroom to the next, I may have absentmindedly left the occasional textbook behind, but rarely –if ever- did I fail to bring along whichever extra-curricular volume I happened to be reading at the time. I even had a deplorable tendency to eschew the required reading of my English classes for the sake of continuing my own literary selections. This behavior troubled my teachers, and certainly had a deleterious effect on my grades, but I never managed to regret such decisions.
Yet, for all of this, I never knew the bibliophilic existence until years later, well beyond the realm of class and hall. Though I continued to read with a voracious appetite all the while, I had scarcely three dozen books to my name during the years that followed my formal education. My love for reading, and indeed for books in general, was not fully realized until one fateful day, little more than 4 years ago, on which a friend inadvertently revolutionized my world by asking a rather simple question: “Have you heard about this PaperBackSwap thing?”… 
As I now sit, surrounded by more books than I can reasonably count, having fatted my mind and spirit on the finest of literature, at times I find myself pausing and simply marveling, not only at the profound pleasure and fulfillment derived from this life-long obsession, but at the sheer logistics of having crafted a life that so revolves around books and their ocular consumption. There are 
moments in which I can but stand and stare, virtually aghast at the size and quality of the library I now possess. That there should be a day dedicated to Book Lovers is almost preposterous in my mind, as indeed every day in my world, as
well as the world of the PaperBackSwap, is a day so dedicated. And yet I am thankful for the excuse to expound upon my experiences thus far, to share briefly in the spirit of that which has shaped not only my life, but the lives of each and every member here.
Whether we read casually or obsessively, for education or pleasure, collecting our books or setting them loose upon the world once the last page has been committed to mind, we are all, undoubtedly, book lovers. It is in light of this kinship that I find myself so often smiling – when my attention is not focused otherwise on the book of the moment, that is. I wish all of you a most splendid Book Lovers’ Day, and, as ever, the very happiest of swapping.
Some books about the love of books
Book Lovers Day? My new favorite day of the year!