I was once lucky enough to meet a very interesting man. An author, no one hugely famous, but still a name I knew. We got into a discussion about books and how people see them. As we sat there, in the middle of a used book store drinking our respective teas, a man came up to the counter and asked for a hardcover series. When the clerk asked which ones, he said that they'd just be for display, so it didn't matter as long as it "looked smart." And that made me incredibly sad.
For people like us they were a necessity, something that was a part of everything in our lives. A man once said that great writing inspired things; conversation, art, arguments, and the sometimes the occasional bar fight. And, for me, they do. Books can literally change how I see the world and what I look for in the world and I love that.
And I wondered how often people came to him, just to say that they had his autograph for appearance sake, rather than actually being touched by his work. So I asked the man what he thought of people coming to him to autograph his work, whether it was flattering or bothersome or what. And I asked what he saw in his own fans at times.
And the answer really struck me.
He told me that his favourite thing in the world, was to get a copy of his own book, looking beat to hell and back, all taped up and bent out of shape and obviously well-thumbed. And to still have someone asking him to autograph it, because it showed him that someone had literally taken this book everywhere with them. It was read more than once and in someone's bag or purse, like it was just as necessary to their daily life as their cell phone and wallet. He hated nothing more than a brand new copy of a book that was obviously just going right on display and would never be read again.
And you know? It's true. I look at my own bookshelf and all my favourite books, the ones I'll read again and again, no matter how well I treat them, they're all a little ragged round the edges. And now I look at them, in that condition, and feel happy that there's some proof of how well loved they are. Like a stuffie, missing an ear and patched up, but no less treasured for it.
OK, so the weekend started off SUCKING. It was 35 degrees out and my freaking cars AC picked this weekend to conk out on me. So 3 hour drive that I had to take up to Meaford to visit Michelle? Not fun. Rush hour traffic through Brampton, also not fun.
But then we got there and it got ALOT better. First off? Michelle's stepdad is an architect or a designer, so the house is gorgeous. Up on a cliff, it looked out on the entirety of Georgian bay with a forest drop off between the house and the beach. They also have amazing taste in art, so the whole house was really interesting to explore. Even the bloody cutlery was interesting.
Saturday, me Michelle and Jenn all went to the Blue Mountain Spa. Such a wonderful way to spend the day. You did this whole hot, cold, relax thing. Hang about in a hot tub, or the sauna or the steam room for 15 minutes, jump into a cold plunge pool really quick and then lounge about and relax till you're ready to go again. By the end of the day I felt like an overcooked noodle I was so relaxed.
Then that night, we went to this restaurant called Largo's just south of Meaford to celebrate Michelle's graduation. The food was...... pretty much the best I've ever had. We all left the restaurant so full we practically had to be rolled out of the door.
Sunday Jenn had to head down to work at the barn for the day, but me and Michelle headed up into the mountains to hike through the scenic caves. Yeah, you lot were all roasting to death? We were ankle deep in SNOW yesterday, apparently it doesn't melt in some of the area's till fall, it was WONDERFUL. Amazing view, and when we left there was about 7 or 8 hawks of some kind hunting above the entrance. Very cool.
All in all, awesome way to spend the weekend.
Drove home through the mist, with tendrils and swirls of it rising off the road like ghosts. Considering I spent the downtime we had over the weekend reading a rather effective ghost story it made for an iteresting drive home to say the least....
Speaking of the book, I highly recommend everyone read the book The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield . It is very wonderfully complex and creepy, I loved it....