The Joys of Browsing, part 1
I can vaguely remember a time when buying a book meant reading it straight away. Trips to Dymocks as a pre-teen usually involved a promise on the part of my mother that each of us kids (there are three of us, myself and a sister and a brother) could choose one book to take home. Even then, telling me that I could only have one was a little bit like telling me I had to choose which one of my limbs I most wanted to keep because the rest were getting cut off. A lot of thought went in to my choices and I have vivid memories of spending hours standing under the yellow light in the YA section of our local bookstore, which used to be in the back corner. There weren't nearly so many supernatural books back then. I remember being adamant that I wanted Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants one time, even though Mum said she'd heard bad things about it. What bad things exactly? I can't remember. Maybe she thought it was too teenaged, too American, in th...