A ROOM WITHOUT BOOKS IS LIKE
A BODY WITHOUT A SOUL
Books in the bedroom? Check.
Living room? Check.
Bathroom? (Nope. Don't get me started on that.)
I'm always amazed when I go into other people's homes and I don't see a bookshelf - or even a book! - in sight. But then my husband reminds me I'm sort of on the other end of that spectrum and maybe I shouldn't be so judgmental. (This is why he's considered the nice one in our relationship.)
Books are such a part of my life that I'm probably a little too pushy when it comes to giving them as gifts. But you know what? I don't know that I care. If I can give someone a book I loved, if I can pass on that story, those characters, that language, if I can touch someone else vicariously through someone else's words then I'm doing it. I try very hard to match the right book with the right person. I realize the recipient may not enjoy the book as much as I did and that's okay, too, because then there's usually a discussion - a discussion about books! Whee!
I'm the "aunt" who gives books and I know that sometimes kids prefer to play with a new toy or a video game or whatever. But, I also know that one day, they're going to be bored or the batteries are dead or the TV is broken, and they're going to wander past a bookshelf (the family one or maybe the one in their room) and see the book they were given last Christmas or two birthdays ago. They'll pick it up, then sit down and disappear into a world they get to hold in their very own hands. They probably won't remember who gave them that gift and that's okay. I'll know.