Chapter 13 Part 1: Buying and Reading at Cambridge New and Used

Annie's prim threats are adorable enough to make me laugh.Chen Jiru, a scholar of the Ming Dynasty, said in his book: "If you have books to read in life, have time to read, have the ability to read, and cultivate yourself like an illiterate person, you are a good reader." A person who loses his innocence and simple ordinary heart can be regarded as a person who enjoys the happiness in the world.It can be seen that not all book lovers are bookworms.The obsession with books does not hinder the authentic experience of life.A true book lover must have a sensitive and clear mind, constantly exploring human nature and feeling life.

Tragedy also happens when buying books, and that's when the book you've been longing for is out of stock.Once I saw Period Pierce written by Darwin’s granddaughter Gwen Raverat at a friend, which recorded her childhood life in Cambridge. The illustrations in the book were all hand-painted by her, full of childishness.A friend said she bought it at Heffers a few days ago.I couldn't wait for a moment, and rushed happily, but was told that the book was sold out.The kind book seller wrote down my contact information and would notify me as soon as the storyteller arrived.But I am still worried, I have to ask myself every day, anxious and impatient like a puppy looking forward to a meaty bone.

I was too unplanned when buying books. I planned to buy one book, but I took home at least three books.So no matter where I go, there is always a thick stack of books next to my bed. When I turn over in the night, my dear stack of books will often collapse and landslide, waking me up from my dream.When I'm in a bad mood, some women vent their emotions with shopping spree, and I go to the bookstore to pick up a basket of books: they spread over, warming my heart like a spring tide.Books in the UK are too expensive. Ordinary books cost ten or twenty pounds. If I buy too many books, my wallet will protest.In order to restrain the urge to buy books, I only dared to go to the bookstore when I was sure which book I wanted to buy. After I bought it, I hurried away without looking sideways, not daring to stop for a moment.Then I had to try to avoid the window of the bookstore, just as people try to avoid the fragrant pastry shop when they are hungry.

Fortunately, there are many antique bookstores in Cambridge.They saved my wallet.There are a lot of books there, including art, philosophy, religion, history, literature, and home economics. The prices are really cheap, and some books can even be bought for as little as one pound.There are also many books that cannot be bought in ordinary bookstores. If you are lucky, you can also bump into them there.Every time I look for books in a second-hand bookstore, I feel like I am looking for treasure, excited and eager to try.The books there like to be close to dust.The covers and spines of many books were covered with a layer of peach-skin-like dust.Sometimes the bookstore clerk would sweep it with a feather duster, but the dust just fell from one book to another like a mischief.The sunlight streamed in through the bright glass windows, and I could see the fine dust particles waltzing playfully, waiting for a breeze to blow them back onto the books again.Once, I chose a copy of "History of Italian Art" and opened the worn cover, and there was an ominous cracking sound immediately in my ears, and the pages of the book trembled, and then rushed to fall off.I bent down in embarrassment, busy picking up the pages of the book on the floor.A kind clerk came to help me: "This book is too old and weak, but a small operation will do." He took glue, scissors and other tools, and quickly gave the book A full fix was made.For only three pounds, I took home this thick book with nearly a hundred illustrations.

I never buy hardcover books, just because I hate the hard bookcase that pretends to be expensive, and despise the posture that needs to be carefully served.On the contrary, I like many of those old books abandoned in the streets and alleys.Although every time I bury my nose in a book, I have to blow off the dust accumulated on the book.Old books have their own history.A scribbled signature, a drop of black coffee stains, and an unknown field flower all inadvertently betray the reading habits or life secrets of their former owners.I once found a thin piece of paper in an old book I bought, on which I copied a poem in beautiful and beautiful handwriting:

remember?I borrowed your new car the other day and it crashed, I thought you were going to kill me, but you didn't. remember?That day I dragged you to the beach, you said it would rain, and it rained, I thought you were going to brag about "I'm right," but you didn't. remember?The day I teased the boys, it was to make you jealous, as I wished, I thought you would leave me, but you didn't. remember?The day I knocked over a strawberry pie in your car and stained the carpet, I thought you were going to beat me up, but you didn't. remember?The day you showed up in jeans because I forgot to inform you that the prom was very formal,

I thought you would dump me, but you didn't. Yes, there are many things you could have done but didn't. You accommodate me, love me, and protect me. There are many things I want to make up for you, When you return from the battlefield, But, you don't. After reading these sentences, I stayed in a daze for a long time, trying to figure out the state of mind of the owner of this book when he wrote (copied) this poem.Could this book be given to her by her former lover?An old book, a page of thin paper gave me a story, a reverie, and a deep move. I like to write and draw on books.After reading the book, I am also in it, and there is my shadow between the pages.I don’t use bookmarks, and all kinds of gadgets make the book extra full: ticket stubs from drama performances, landscape postcards sent by friends from afar, women’s heads doodled, Carrefour’s shopping receipts, which were found when buying books When I opened the book, these things fluttered and flew down, awakening certain times, places, characters, and stories deep in my memory.

Books have two lives: they tell their own stories, and they bear witness to my life.