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Book World: How did all these books get into my house? There's a method to what seems like madness.
Michael Dirda, The Washington Post
Jan. 6, 2021
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Oscar WildeVintage/Handout
Even though I gave away or sold perhaps 150 boxes of books in 2020, the stunned amazement of anyone who wanders into my basement or attic apparently remains, to quote Sherlock Holmes, the one fixed point in a changing age. Admittedly, only a small number of people crossed my threshold during this time of coronavirus restrictions, but most never even bothered to ask, "Have you read all these books?" They just stood dumbfounded, though a few were overheard to murmur, "I feel sorry for his poor wife" or, more rarely, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." My living room, to my delight if no one else's, can now pass as the ramshackle library of an impoverished London club circa 1895. More and more often, I settle into a shabby, cat-clawed wing chair with the day's newspapers and periodically snort "Harrumph!" or grumble that the world is going to hell in a handbasket.