One can never have too many books. In our house, bookshelves take up an entire wall in the downstairs lounge, my daughter's room has an overflowing bookshelf and books are stacked in all the bedrooms.
I'm a confessed "book smeller". Those of you who perform this activity with new books will understand: you know who you are.
We consume books in our house, often two or three at a time. Books are permitted at breakfast and in cafes, but not in the toilet. At bedtime, my 3-year-old daughter is in the habit of asking for, "two books before bed, two books in bed and two books to read to myself". I let my son off dishwasher duty as I saw he was reading a book on the human body — a worthy distraction, in my view.
My treasures are grouped both by author and genre. I have sections for New Zealand authors, flash fiction, poetry and short stories, and my medical textbooks. Last weekend, I used Robbins Pathology and Mosby's Illustrated Medical Dictionary to help construct my daughter's "cave". The books were to stop the blankets from sliding off the kitchen stools. She snuggled inside with her mummy's books, Pieces of You and Catch Me When You Fall, saying, "There's your photo, Mum!"
I haven't read every book on my shelf. For instance, despite an intense desire to finish David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, I can't quite get past the first 200 pages. Others I have read at least twice — some because I read the first version on Kindle and felt I needed to experience the sensory experience and total immersion that only comes with the ink-and-paper version.