I once read somewhere that New Zealand boasts more bookshops per capita than any other country in the world. Maybe that was true years ago, but it seems to me now that every time I turn around another bookshop has closed. My favourite bookshop was turned into a burger joint. This saddens me greatly, but I’m wilfully contributing to the problem.
You see, I love books. I hoard them. It’s my dream to have every spare inch of wall in my bedroom covered in them, and I’m well on the way to that. I have six bookshelves in my room and all are full, as is the floor space between them. I can’t resist – I see a bargain bin full of five-dollar books, I’m diving through it like a hobo through a dumpster.
But I rarely go into a bookshop and buy a new book. This isn’t just because…
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