I bought this book in the airport in Toronto, finished it on the plane, and was just now considering who to give it to since I don’t let stuff pile up anymore.
But now I understand! I know why people want to keep their books around. As your eye passes over the books you’ve read you are reminded of title, author, a hint of plot, and maybe even a sense of how you felt when you read it.
I will give this book away and by next weekend will have no way to recall even the title, let alone the author or the plot, and be left with only the vague discomfort of the forgotten, like I’ve forgotten most of all the other books I’ve given away or borrowed-and-returned.
But then I’m sure to trip across a reminder somewhere in life and say ‘Oh! I read that book. It was pretty good. Just right for a five hour flight.’