I’ve spent most of this past week packing up my office as my post-doc is soon coming to an end. Whilst moving is never an easy or stress free task, it seems to be considerably more complicated for the academic, whose office shelves are covered with hundreds and hundreds of books, box files filled with articles and offprints, and the various bits of detritus that accumulate seemingly out of nowhere (in my case, an odd assortment of notepads and post-its from four different universities). Books are, for those in the humanities, still the fundamental source of research despite the growing availability of digital copy. So as I sit here, surrounded by boxes and boxes of books, I can’t help but think of how important many of them have been to me, for teaching, for writing, and most importantly, for the pure enjoyment of reading. This brings to mind a graffiti I found near a branch library in Coventry (unfortunately under threat of closure):
Good advice: we should all read more books. I am, however, having second thoughts about buying so many of them.