"He gestured for her to follow him and led the way into a room off the back of the hall. 'The library,' he said. 'Rather a lot of unread books.'
Her eyes went to the shelves that stretched up to within a few inches of the ceiling. All four walls were covered; piles of books stood here and there, teetering, vulnerable, she judged, to the slightest footfall. 'But who doesn't have a lot of unread books? It's nice, though, just to know that they're there.'"
That observation comes from Isabel Dalhousie in Alexander McCall Smith's The Uncommon Appeal of Clouds
How do you view a large collection of books you haven't read? A waste, a reproach, and a cause of stress? A treasure trove? Or would such a thing not move you either way?
