books.

while moving into our new apartment, a process that took less than an hour and involved the transfer of items from our backpacks into themed piles along the perimeter of the room, we discovered something startling: our books had multiplied like rabbits. at the beginning of our journey we carried five books between us, each one carefully calculated to fit into our lightweight(ish) backpacking model and provide maximum enjoyment over a long period of time. as we finished each book, it was swapped out for another (the rule of diminishing quality tended to apply here) at the next hostel or holiday park. i never did finish c.s. lewis' letters to malcolm, one of my original picks, which is more a reflection of my reluctance to leave behind a book-friend that has travelled with me on both the lonely and the lovely trails than of the quality of the book itself.

but over the course of four months, new purchases transformed our collection of five to a mini-library of fifteen. fifteen(!), not even counting the road atlas and park maps and magazines. my husband is primarily the one at fault, having discovered an enjoyment of reading previously smothered by a stronger affection for movies, and now being inclined to return home from a grocery shopping trip with a handful of new finds from secondhand bookshops. while in nelson i gave him a budget of $6 to find a new book for the trail, and had to laugh when he came back toting the lord of the rings trilogy, which was evidently okay to spend $18 on since "it includes three books, so they each cost $6!". somehow he squeezed the massive trilogy into his pack and had finished it by the time we found another book exchange, where he again counted it as three volumes in order to maximize its swapping potential.

while it's been wonderful to discuss our reads together, as we tend to trade books first with each other before releasing them into the wider world, we have discovered one area of disagreement that has caused a small amount of friction and a larger amount of good-natured teasing: i am a staunch supporter of reading all forewards, introductions, prefaces, and acknowledgements (not to mention all of the goodies that come at the end), while bryan can hardly be bothered to read the dedication page before diving into what he considers "the real book". in his opinion, if the page is garnished with a roman numeral, it doesn't count. not only are these portions not mandatory, but they're not even recommended for their potential to give away key elements of the story that should be learned from the story itself (also his philosophy of movie trailers).

and here's the part that you can't tell him: i think he's winning me over. after attempting on two consecutive evenings to enjoy the 23-page introduction to wuthering heights that made constant reference to the plot intricacies of a book i hadn't yet read, i skipped the introduction entirely and read only the biographical notice of ellis and acton bell and the editor's preface to the new 1850 edition. and that's not all - an antarctic classic saw me pass by its 57-page introduction (by one of my favorite authors, no less) without a second glance, and two novels whose authors perch securely atop the current bestsellers list were abandoned more than 100 pages in due to lack of interest. unheard of. i still haven't decided if this is a big step forward or a big step backward.

so, in short, we're pleased to have a local library from which to source all of the books that we intend to read over the next five months, though it is a bit embarrassing to rummage through the childrens' section in search of the final harry potter book...

-rachel