In my living
room there’s a near-ceiling high shelf crammed from top to bottom with books,
all of them my own. I’ll occasionally lie back on the couch perpendicular to
its placement and just gaze at it—not basking in it, but looking for structural
weak points. I’ve been collecting comics and literature for the express purpose
of building a library for the past seven years, and as a result I’ve turned
this towering, six tier bookshelf into a camel fearing the coming of some
straw-bearing harbinger. (I should add I have enough space for another shelf
and will be more than welcome to accept any donations or freebies, wink wink.)
This week, I’m
veering as close to narcissism as I fear to tread. Make no mistake: this is
literary show and tell, and when I’m done you’ll wonder if I’m even capable of
loving other people given how much I adore my books. So without further ado,
here are the most prized tomes in my personal collection. Pictures have been
cribbed from various sources online, as I don’t have a dedicated camera and I
don’t want to answer any of my roommates’ questions about why I’m holding my
laptop webcam up to the bookshelf.
