Yesterday, I found the perfect copy of The Lord of the Rings at work, and jumped at the chance at buying it. Now, I have all three books—The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, The Return of the King—The Hobbit, The Atlas to Middle Earth, and The Complete Tolkien Guide. Besides The Simarillion, I’ve managed to re-create my dad’s collection (aka, the collection with which I grew up reading, studying and enjoying Tolkien).
The book I purchased had all three books in one volume, making it a little hefty considering it’s a hardback (of course). However, though I re-read The Lord of the Rings every few years, I can’t imagine bringing it with me on the train. No, The Lord of the Rings is something you enjoy from the comfy confines of your favorite reading chair with a mug of hot apple cider, a long Saturday empty before you. The Lord of the Rings is something you savor. I didn’t expect to buy all three books in one volume, but the book was in great condition. Plus, though there is a detailed illustration on the dust jacket, it’s not from the movies. PLUS, with my employee discount, it was…get this…$3.50. Yeah, be jealous.
Of course, immediately after work, I rushed home to show my dad and stow it safely in my room at my parents’ house. Why make such a fuss, you ask, and then store your favorite books so far away? Well, there’s not much room in my apartment for books to simply sit un-read. My moderately-sized (new) bookshelf from Ikea is completely full of books to be read, Joel’s textbooks, and some I’ve recently completed. When they sit for too long, they go back home. My one bookshelf is completely packed, but that’s OK. I store the rest of my 300+ collection on the communal shelves in the living room, and in my closet. There they wait until I move out of this tiny apartment and into a house of my own, with my own wall of shelves to accomodate their awesome presence.