|Neil Gaiman's Basement Library. Photo by Kyle Cassidy; courtesy of Shelfari|
Surprise! A guest blogger.
This entry is written by Mike Miley, who teaches English (9th and 12th grades) at Flintridge Preparatory School. He is a writer, observer, and passionate participant in the discourse of film criticism, literature and life in general.
I ought to find libraries and bookstores intimidating. After all, I'm entering a place stuffed with books I haven't read, things I don't know. Yet I'm always comforted when I open the doors and see stacks upon stacks of books because those unread tomes represent my future.
I love that there's something I still need to know. It means I have something left to do, something new to discover. I smile with the anticipation that someday soon, I will read these books and my life will be fuller, richer. I hesitate to say my life will be more complete, because I don't ever want this to stop.
Think about it: what if I have yet to read my favorite book of all-time? In fact, I hope I haven't, no matter how awesome INFINITE JEST is.
Some people's dream houses look like mansions. Mine looks a lot like a library.