This one leaves me with a dilemma.
I love books. I consider books a necessity, not a luxury, and no matter how many times I move house I never give books away (unless they're horrible... then I donate them to a charity shop). This means I've been carrying books around with me for 20 years (I brought my favourites over from Italy too) and no matter which room/shelves they end up I've always ALWAYS arranged them in the same way.
First they're sorted by size. Then publisher. Within a publishing house I keep the one by the same author together. (It really annoys me when writers change publishers... it really messes up my sistem).
OCD? Maybe, but I've always been able to locate a book within seconds.
This has now changed. I decided to take a leap into the unknown and my books are now sorted by ... colour. Gasp, if you so wish.
It feels funny just saying it. I feel like I've betrayed the sanctity of books... I've sold out to fashion... I'm judging them by their cover.
I scrambled Italian and English books.
Good writing is mingling with the not so good/chewing-gum-for-the-brain variety.
I think it looks good...
... but it feels.... funny. Almost not right...
And I can't find anything.
And I need more yellow books...
Help.
