In my long career as a reference and reader’s advisory librarian I had many conversations about books. Wide reading outside of work and a master’s degree in English enhanced these conversations. Over the years books took on new formats and digital sources of information appeared, but books and conversations about books were always central to my work. Some of these conversations were with co-workers and some were with library patrons.

Now that I no longer work at the library, I feel free to call them patrons rather than customers—a word to me redolent of McDonald’s and Walmart. Although better than customer, even the word patron fails to capture the nuances of many of these interactions but it’s the best word I have found.

There was tremendous satisfaction in sharing the intimacy of reading with near strangers. Not only did I make recommendations to them, my own reading took on new directions in response to patrons’ suggestions. During these years I kept a journal about almost every book I read, and a running list of titles and authors I wanted to look at.

In retirement I have found new joys but nothing to replace the camaraderie of the workroom and the satisfaction of talking about books with people I barely knew. Often the talking about books was a way to get to know interesting but shy people.

My participation in two book clubs is a boon in my current life. These groups meet intermittently, though, and do not replace the conversations I used to have every day. I confess that some of my ideas about books come from the women in these clubs; I hope no one will sue me for stealing her ideas.

This blog is an attempt to have a new kind of conversation and to keep track of my reading again. I am calling the blog Intoxicated by Books because I have been passionate about books since I learned to read more than six decades ago. I am crazy about books and could not live without them or imagine what my life would have been without them. To read is to live.

Through this blog I want to share some of my passion with other readers. It is a passion tempered by age, experience, education, and what used to be called taste. I was fortunate to have a mother who did not have the time or energy to censor my reading and I read practically anything that came my way during my book-starved rural childhood.  At school and later at university I had some excellent teachers and professors who helped me understand what makes a book good, mediocre, or bad.  I believe it’s necessary to read a lot of all three kinds of books to develop taste.

There will be no rating system, as I will discuss only books I feel are worthwhile. Books are essentially about life and reading is central to my life, so bits about my own life will be included.

If you are put off by books on serious subjects, you will not want to read this blog. I do not consider most of the books I read—which feature social dislocation, family dysfunction, torture and genocide—to be depressing. Reading on heavy topics is ultimately uplifting because it expands my humanity. I will read anything that speaks to me in what sounds like a real human  voice.  Depressing books give balance to my happy and privileged existence.

These are the books I have beside me as I begin this blog.