It is two months today since I began my book-buying moratorium – and I am still going strong. It was most difficult at the beginning, when I was trying to break the habit. There was a danger that I just would buy more DVDs instead – they too are so cheap in charity shops – even though we have too many that we haven’t watched. So for the time being I am avoiding charity shops, except when I go to drop books off.
I can’t remember when I last bought so few books. I think it must have been before I was earning a salary. I wonder if over the years I have spent more on books than on clothes. It seems quite possible.
I’m not making the inroads into the TBR pile that I’d like. I find that I’m reading books from the library a lot. I’ve just finished Agatha Christie’s Come Tell Me How You Live about life in Syria with her archeologist husband, which I got out of the London Library, and that made me want to read Death Comes as the End, which she set in Ancient Egypt. That one I already own and I am halfway through.
The collection of poetry by my good friend Anca Vlasopolos (pictured above) arrived yesterday and is one of the few exceptions that I’ve allowed myself (the other was a book I bought at a launch). It is attractively produced with charming illustrations and abstinence makes this even more of a treat.