This is about books and reading, writing and language, and some of the eccentricities and foibles of passionate readers and collectors of books. There’s something about book love that makes us cast an indulgent eye on the kind of behaviour that people not afflicted by the passion would view as downright crazy, like the author’s description of a trip to a second-hand bookshop that her husband surprised her with, as a birthday gift. They spent seven hours in that shop and they came away with nineteen pounds worth of books