Books and Chocolate

Give me a stash of books and a sack of melt-in-the-mouth chocolate and you can lock me up in a room and throw away the key. That comes pretty near my idea of heaven, never mind that I might resemble something really not divine by the time you let me out of there! But what are a few extra pounds around the waist in the pursuit of knowledge? I'm kidding! Pursuit of knowledge? I didn't say anywhere that those books had to be edifying works of literature. In fact while I'm making suggestions I may as well add that crime fiction would do very well, and some gooey nut encased dark chocolate. And do add a box of tissues so that I don't ruin the pages of those books with messy fingerprints.

It happened to me today and I could have wept. Engrossed in the misadventures of a harassed young woman trying hard to find a man (well sometimes you need a break from hardened gumshoes blowing smoke rings in your face) I was also working my way through a decadent block of almond-orange chocolate and as I absentmindedly turned the pages I left an ugly smudge on one of them. Horrors! I hadn't licked my fingers completely clean and the evidence was right there on the pristine pages of a brand new book.

I have a very reverent attitude to books. Dog-ears get my fur standing on end and I would never leave a book lying open face down. ‘Use a bookmark' is my pious mantra and I might even own more bookmarks than books. Reading is a very tactile, sensual experience. I revel in the feel of pages, both crisp and crackling, and faded and parchment-like. And the utterly indescribable scent of old books sometimes outweighs the pleasure of reading them. Gives new meaning to the phrase ‘nose buried in a book'.

So what was I doing carelessly defiling someone else's book? It might give another reader who likes to bury her nose in books a tantalising whiff of chocolate when she should have been smelling printer's ink but what would it do to the owner of the book? If she's anything like me, she will never lend me a book again, and that would be a pity. I tired to repair the damage as best as I could and though the marks faded a wee bit they were still marks that should not have been there. I haven't stopped shuddering with distaste at my clumsiness ever since.

Surprisingly, given that I can't seem to enjoy a book without something edible close at hand, I have never before dropped food between the pages of a book. Reading and eating seem inextricably bound in my life, and of course lounging sloppily in a posture that is guaranteed to do ruinous things to my back. Sitting up in a straight backed chair is not conducive to enjoyable reading; it brings to mind cramming for examinations from boring textbooks, and I hope I've left those days far behind.

We all have our own unique relationship with books. My sister needs to cover every book she buys in transparent plastic, and perhaps that's a good thing. At least she can be sure some klutz isn't going to drop curry all over the cover! Another friend hides his books in a cupboard where nobody can see them much less ask to borrow them. There are some who buy books only to pass them on to someone else after they've finished reading them, and while I admire their generosity of spirit, I could never be like them. There are some books I would never part with, come hell, high water, or even, god forbid, a chocolate smudge on an inside page!