Books Are Beautiful (a Rebecca post)

Sure, we all snicker at the apocryphal tales of dowagers ordering books by the colour to spruce up their drawing rooms and interior decorators organizing libraries entirely by size. But those of us who love books also often like to look at them, even when we aren't reading. And really, I think it's quite clear that books, like tulips, gold coins, and cheerleaders, are something that looks better in aggregate. 

I hate to be shallow, but I like to see books even when I know they can never be mine to read, even when I know I don't even want to read them. My favourite part of the tour of Parliament is the library, and I still enjoy gazing at the massive book mezzanines of the Thomas Fisher archives even though I never fully understood my borrowing privileges even when I had them.

And of course I'm a fan of Nigel Beale's intrepid bookstore photography, was thrilled with Dani Couture's showcase of shots from This Ain't the Rosedale Library a few weeks back, and with Kerry Clare's shot from Good Egg. But I've never seen photographic tribute to BMV North, a shop to which, on aesthetic and literary and sentimental grounds, I am often drawn. So this weekend I took a few shots while I was there. Sure are pretty. (Another thing I love about that place is that everyone ignored me while I ran around taking pictures, even if it was obvious they were in the frame. People at BMV are serious.)