About 3 months ago, after a friend who was feeling rather down thinking back to our glorious days in Paris paid a visit, I lent him one of my favourite books of all time; Flowers for Mrs Harris by Paul Gallico. Although I find all of his writing (that I have had the opportunity to read so far) charming, this is my absolute favourite. And I will never get it back.
Luckily (for him, that is) it was not the beautiful copy to the right, but I am still frustrated, more so with myself. Although all of the key elements in the storyline were simply made for him; working class lady, travelling to Paris, buying a Dior dress…he has only read half of it and every request to have it back will forever more be met with ‘oh, can I just read the rest of it first?’ ….and the willingness within me to share a good story with anyone and everyone will win out every time.
So, should we lend the books we love or not? Only to the people we know will give them back perhaps? But who is to say they will? I suppose we can always buy them again, but nothing stings quite as much for me than losing a good book. Perhaps the way to eliminate any flight risk is to stamp our names in them so that the thief will one day be reminded of where the book belongs? (love you auntie 🙂 :-*)
I think I’ll always be too keen to share a story with people to stop lending, and then gutted when the second reader doesn’t get as much out of it as I did……..*sigh* … bye bye Mrs ‘Arris, for now…..