Milena Moser on Books Nobody Needs Anymore: Those Left Behind

class=”sc-29f61514-0 icZBHN”>

Whether the hosts have put a bottle of wine in the fridge or a bunch of flowers on the table is of less interest to me than the contents of their bookshelves. Although I rarely have to resort to it: as a precaution, I take with me more reading material than I can actually process. For me, words such as holiday, free time, relaxation and even happiness are inextricably linked with books. In my earliest childhood memories, I see my mother stretched out on a sun lounger or reclining in a wicker chair, frowning and engrossed in a thick book. And as soon as I was able to do the same, I did. For me, the ideal vacation is, first of all, a suitcase full of books and the opportunity to get lost in them for hours. This eliminates fussy activities, sightseeing, and generally any program. Reading requires a certain dedication. Calls for hours spent in silence. The days unfold before us like an endless magic carpet. The younger friend is visibly taken aback when I explain to him my vacation plans, which essentially consist of the word “reading.” “Sounds, ahem, damn boring,” he probably wants to say, but is too polite to do so. But, fortunately, my idea of ​​​​a successful breakup is shared by my girlfriend. One person’s nightmare is another’s happiness.

As soon as we arrived at our holiday home, I was already standing in front of the shelf. I take out individual books, trying to imagine who last read them and why they left them here. Because the book didn’t deliver what the cover promised? Or vice versa, to share and convey the reader’s happiness? I paired the titles, imagining, for example, how an ornithologist and an amateur sleuth spent their honeymoon here, how a full-blooded romantic spent a weekend with a political activist. I see before me a teenager who was only able to survive a family vacation thanks to wandering vampires. As I sit down in the rickety chair on the terrace, I think of all those who sat here before me a week or two ago. Who put the book on the armrest and let their eyes wander over the hills. Half here, half still locked between pages.

Several days passed like this, in mutual silence, interrupted only by questions like: “Are you hungry?” or “Open a bottle of wine?”

Then we decided to go to the sea, about an hour away, and spend the day on the beach. But when we arrived, it turned out that my friend had forgotten her book. She was in a panic that I could understand. It has been scientifically proven that it is impossible to spend a day at the beach without reading. For this reason, she hid several “emergency books” in her car, in the glove compartment and in the trunk. Unfortunately, I was driving. We went to the only small shop within reach that mainly sold beach gear and snacks. Upon request, we were offered a yacht and a fishing magazine to choose from. We bought both just in case. And of course we left them on the shelf when we left.

Source: Blick