I'm a bibliofreak.
I have yet to meet a trashed book I do not want to rescue. A new book I do not want to bring home.
I go nowhere without a book to keep me grounded. It's my blankie. My e-reader makes it easier now.
It's not only the books, it's the whole damn library. It's the tiny bookshop crumbling under decades of dust. It's the shiny futuristic one with the hype café. It's the second-hand stand in the streets. It does not matter what or where, as long as it has books, I'm Gollum.
The best thing I could think of to be growing up was a writer. Or a bookseller. Or a librarian. I'm a language teacher and a translator. Close.
Years ago, when I was a Lecturer for the Instituto Camões in India ('Leitora', in Portuguese, which translates as 'reader') I thought it was serendipity, even though it had very little to do with the actual reading of books, it did speak to my inner bibliofreak. I did end up putting together the Language Center Library from scratch, and each library card I issued made me giddier than it should have, so that was that.
I attended countless workshops related to books, from palaeography at the National Archives in Lisbon to the "Crazy About Books" Master course at Radboud University, where I got the absolute privilege to hold in my bare hands 16th-century books.
When did that start? At school. More precisely at the school library. It had another name (in France all schools have a CDI, Centre de documentation et information) and it was managed by a Documentaliste (or Teacher Librarian). It was huge, it had thousands of books, it was free, it was silent, and it was my refuge.
Every recess, every teacher's absence, every gap in my schedule, I was there.
I devoured each of the books and encyclopaedia and magazines and cartoons. Some twice.
The library cards cabinet was my treasure trove, a boolean search was easy-peasy, the microfiche machine was cool.
The Teacher Librarian would often call me aside and tell me she had a new book for me. And when I would come back with one that I did not like or did not understand, she would say "it's ok, not everyone likes the same thing. Give it a go again in a few months. Or years."
My bibliofreak soul hurts when I see there are no libraries with a knowledgeable librarian in every school, everywhere. Even here, in The Netherlands where I live, at schools with funds, it's very minimal, like an afterthought, a couple of school manuals, a few dictionaries, some children's literature bestsellers. It's a sad place, where computers wait to be used on exam days and kids are sent when they misbehave.
We talk about libraries as an obsolete space, but give me a safe silent room, the smell of ink, the smooth feel of paper, and I'm home. The possibility of discovering a new world in each new book is irresistible.
How I wish all kids could experience this!

(no all is lost, my kid, 13, won a "Book cover competition", and the book was launched at our favourite bookshop, Van Piere in Eindhoven, pics here)