The library

I love books.

Ever since I figured out what the squiggles on paper meant, I've been hooked. My kindergarten teacher was amazed the day I had five classmates around me staring wide-eyed as I struggled out-loud through a beginning reader book. I had no idea what diphtongs were or how they worked, but that didn't stop me. I read throughout school, in school. In primary school, this was appreciated--except that one time in first grade where I should have been doing math. In secondary school, people saw it as antisocial and wrong that I would rather read quietly in a corner than rebel and put on makeup. The fact that I'm allergic to most cosmetics did not seem to be a good enough argument. I ignored them and read on.

I learn languages faster when I have books I love and enjoy in them. For English, there wasn't really much choice in the matter. I found stories on the internet, but they were in a language I could only count to ten in. I did, however, have a dictionary on the computer and a vague idea of how languages worked, thanks to obligatory French classses and sentence structure study in school. Three years later, I got my first English trilogy. By the time I was 18, my anglophone library was over 150 books strong. It's still growing today. I love that, as I got older, more and more people seem to started reading in English. Also, it's amazing how I can love a book in English and have someone else agree, even though we don't speak the same language. I can lend out my books to almost all of my friends and have them understand, even if they do read slower than me.

My other languages are less represented in my small library.

I've got a dog encyclopedia, a book on greco-roman mythology and the Harry Potter series in Dutch, along with most books from my childhood and one or two books I picked up for less than ten euros when I was bored and wandering around some town. The rest is all university textbooks.

My French literature are the books I had to read for school. Some I enjoyed, others I didn't.

In Norwegian, I have less books than I would like. I have some audiobooks on my iPod, a hardcover comic book and two humor related publications I got for my nineteenth birthday. Apart from that, I have a cute gift book on moving (which I got from myself, because I'm such a nice person ;) ), a translation from English which got a title that loosely translates as 'how to saw a woman in half - 101 things not everyone should know' and a cookbook. I love my Norwegian cookbook. It's got the most sexist title ever and has a wonderfully Scandinavian--or perhaps masculine--approach to cooking: take a handful of ingredients, do simple things to them, don't screw up. Wonderful. But in all honesty, my first Norwegian book is my most used. It's a two-way translation dictionary to English and back. I paid about 500 kroner for it when waiting to register at the police office (it was a slow day) and have used it to struggle through my first reading assignments, biology projects, Norwegian essays and a lot of letters sent to my host family.

And now I'm moving, and there's probably not enough room in the car for all my books. Worse, at this point in time, my boyfriend has not got a single book shelf. He likes to read, but never gets to it. I noticed this when I lent him my copy of Dracula, thinking I'd get it back in one, at most two months, and was still waiting seven months later. So I am desperately hoping the car will magically have enough room for about... Well, a lot more books. I could probably put them all in one big moving box, but no one would be able to lift it.

And don't point out public libraries to me. I know about them. More specifically, my bank account does. Because I am human, imperfect and I love to hold on to wonderful books, I tend to forget the due date. My mother banned me from all libraries until I was twelve after racking up a late fee that was around fifty euros when I was ten. This was at a time when the late fee was ten cents per day the library was open, per book, and the library was open twice a week. Yes, I know, it's quite amazing. At twelve, I needed a book for school and the library had it. I didn't get to fifty euros that time, but it wasn't as free as it could have been. I have returned books unread, weeks before they were due, because I didn't want to be late. I have jumped for joy when returning a book during the summer months. Why, you may ask. My Belgian library extends the due date during summer because people take holidays, and they understand that they might want to read. I thought I was going to have to cough up money from what at the time was my lollipop fund my allowance and instead got praised for bringing it back two weeks before it was due. I have long since stopped tempting fate.

So I've packed a few random series and a few I can't miss--My Norwegian dictionary and cookbook, Dracula and a play by Shakespeare to name a few. My much-loved feminist supernatural series (I have five different ones) are staying in Belgium (for now). I am hoping my parents come to visit over the summer with a few cartons full of literature. I've measured and consulted the boyfriend on which book cases to get from IKEA and have found a few that will fit once we get a smaller couch (note: the current couch can comfortably serve as a bed for about ten to twelve five-year-olds, while the current kitchen can serve about three people at a time) There might even be room for my knitting supplies when all is said and done. On the other hand, there's a lot of books on my amazon wishlist, too...