We have ordered the equivalent of twenty — count ‘em! — library-style bookshelves for our house. Can you say ka-CHING! There was really nothing else we could do. If you’re a serious collector of books, the stuff they laughingly call bookshelves in places like Ikea just don’t cut the mustard. And custom-built timber shelves cost even more than the metal ones we’ve shelled out for.

But bookshelves mean unpacking boxes and books. And unpacking books means taking several trips down various memory lanes. And I didn’t realise that I had more autographed books than I thought, from Terry Pratchett, Patrick Tilley, Greg Bear, Jeri Smith-Ready, Karyna da Rosa, and Liane Spicer to name a few. I thought it was only a recent obsession of mine, but I now see I’ve had this desire for many years. There are some boxes that haven’t seen the light of day for ten years, as evidenced by the pages of local newsprint that cover and pad them. A couple (including a copy of Robert Silverberg’s “Sunrise on Mercury”) have been termited to oblivion. Lucky I had several spare copies.

Which brings me to another point. Having owned a bookshop in a past life, it’s inevitable that I’d end up with multiple copies of various books. “Spock’s World” by Diane Duane for one, “Queen of Angels” by Greg Bear for another. The question is, what should I do with these copies? I know J will be eyeing my fiction shelves with a jaundiced eye, looking for more room for his ancient histories, and he will inevitably question the wisdom of holding several copies of Gibson’s “Mona Lisa Overdrive” or Lumley’s Necroscope books, there to take up valuable shelf space, while Seutonius languishes in a pile on the floor. At the moment, I’m thinking of donating my spare copies to a couple of libraries. (When you have 5 copies of a particular Asimov anthology, it’s easy to spread the cheer.) I was also thinking of doing a review of the book before I dispense my charity. That should keep me occupied on Wednesday’s when War Games runs out, methinks.

In other news, I also have to add an erratum. I mentioned that Robert Asprin was the person responsible for the best Lensman parody (”Backstage Lensman“) I’ve ever read. I was wrong. The piece was written by Randall Garrett, not Mr. Asprin. Many apologies to the memories of both.