My fascination with books – beginnings

Books, or rather insufficient space for my books, became a problem. Mainly because getting a new bookcase has been on my project list for almost three years. I was not moving forward. This has been annoying, disappointing and even affecting my self-esteem as it was a promise given to myself that I have not kept for such a long time. Place for my still unpacked books was on my daily agendas for too long. This was so important because I have a very close and intimate relationship with my books. 

My family home had a build-in bookcase covering the whole wall. It was a really big bookcase, dominating the room. My mother was the force behind decorating the place and esthetics was very important to her. I wonder if she ever had enough time to read the books she arranged so nicely, tastefully coordinating their colours. She was a working woman and it meant her work took a lot of time and energy.  Watching television was an easier option to reading.

Books in my mother's collection, so proudly displayed sent a message to me that they are important element of life. The bookcase housed a comprehensive collection. The books were beautifully published, mainly as series of classics, hence colour coordination worked well even preserving connection of subjects. I may seem a little sarcastic about my mother’s esthetic needs, but I some could say that I have inherited it myself. Mind you, it is not likely I’ll colour coordinate books, especially if they are from vastly different subjects.

Back to the bookcase.  There was a blue shelf with all works of one of the Polish poets Slowacki. There was also maroon and gold stripes shelve of all works of another Polish poet. The poetry books looked beautiful on the shelves but I was not that much interested in their content.  Maybe I was too young? Maybe there were really boring? The shelves of a lesser quality of publishing drew more of my attention. The brick colour shelf was my friend for a long time. It was the left top corner of the bookcase and I needed a chair to climb for closer inspections and taking books for reading. The shelve housed another Polish classic – Sienkiewicz. Unpronounceable name and he is little known to the world even though he was a Nobel prize winner in 1905 “because of his outstanding merits as an epic writer”. His novel Quo Vadis about martyrdom of first Christians in Rome was adapted into a Hollywood film with Peter Ustinov and Deborah Kerr. It was a big spectacular production still shown on Australian television sometimes.

Monument of Sienkiewicz in Villa Borghese in Rome

Sienkiewicz was very prolific writer and his novels spanned from historical epics to short stories. One of his less famous novels The Polaniecki Family may have been responsible for my romantic education. In my very young years some of the messages from the book most likely got installed in my subconscious. I wish I read more practical stories at the time of being easily influenced.

There were mainly Polish books that occupied the shelves of the bookcase but at some stage Galsworthy, English contemporary of Sienkiewicz, appeared as well. He also became one of my favourites. Looks that I liked longer forms of literature and I read many sagas. Canadian Mezo de la Roche – Jalna, Buddenbrooks, Forsyte Saga and some Polish ones. It is only now I have fully realized this preference of mine.

This post seems to be self-indulging, but why not. Quite appropriate subject for a person waiting for delivery of new bookcases! More on me and books later.