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BookCrossers
Jul. 6th, 2008 04:05 amAll my life's a cycle. Every so often I am king of the world, surrounded by the most marvellous friends. And a day or so later bittersweet depression as I farewell them again.
BookCrossing brightened my life when I first discovered this simple notion: tag a book with a number from a website and give it away. The number lets people track it on its travels.
At first it was the books, and it was a lot of fun to leave books on park benches or in telephone boxes or on top of mountains. Some of them were found by strangers, and some of these strangers joined the website.
But it rapidly became all about the people. There's something special, something magic about the sort of people who read books and then give them away to strangers.
Giving, sharing, caring, bubbly, quirky, thoughtful. There's something in them that makes my heart smile, in the words of one of my BookCrossing friends.
And friends they are. From sharing comments on the website forums, to meeting a few in person, to embracing the community around the world, my life has become so much richer in the four years and more that I have been proud to call myself a BookCrosser.
BookCrossers gather on a regular round, in cities, in nations, in global assemblies. I've now attended thirteen BookCrossing conventions, and any number of smaller, less formal meetings.
If formal is the right word for such a cheerful community.
Each convention opens with smiles and hugs for friends old and new. We trickle in from places near and far, and I've never yet attended a BookCrossing convention where some, sometimes most, of the attendees have not crossed oceans and national borders. We smile and give each other gifts, and then we unload our bags.
There's always a table. BookCrossing means giving away books, and we make a mountain of books on a convenient table. A book buffet. A feast of literature.
There are squeals of pleasure as treasures are unearthed. The book we've wanted to read for months is found, freely given away. We drop off our own recent joys and chuckle as they are discovered by friends. Later on there will be a cascade of computer activity as we log on to record our transactions, but for now, we talk and laugh over our adventures since we last met.
There's always tales. The book we dangled from a tree, calling it a branch library. The romance book, set free on Valentines Day. The travel guide found by backpackers and released again on the Great Wall.
The trips we've taken, the friends we've met. Our families, our pets, our joys and troubles. We share them all. There are cards and stuffed toys, books and bangles, bags and funny hats, t-shirts with clever logos and photographs of everyone and everything.
The smiles and laughter bubble up, growing and glowing as groups form and mingle.
Every convention has a program. We tour the local bookshops, buying more books that we'll end up sharing with comrades and complete strangers. We assemble in parks, leaving statues decorated with books. We travel on buses and ferries, a helpful ticketseller running after us, "Hey, is this your book?" "No, it's yours!"
We sit down for talks by writers, and we line up to buy their signed copies. We compete for trivia prizes, where the questions are all about books.
And we take photographs to put up on the web, to share the spirit with the wider world of the BookCrossing community. Because no matter how many gather, there are always those who cannot make it. Hundreds, thousands around the world. No hotel is big enough for us all. Together we could populate a city, a city where librarians rule.
And then it's over. We share hugs and smiles, pick up our bags to return to our real life homes, families and jobs. This is the part that brings me down, as the happiness, the love I feel for my friends becomes diluted and dispersed.
For love it is. What else could give me such warmth, such pleasure?
My life is a cycle, of ups and downs, of meetings and partings. It's a heartbeat. A happy heartbeat.
BookCrossing brightened my life when I first discovered this simple notion: tag a book with a number from a website and give it away. The number lets people track it on its travels.
At first it was the books, and it was a lot of fun to leave books on park benches or in telephone boxes or on top of mountains. Some of them were found by strangers, and some of these strangers joined the website.
But it rapidly became all about the people. There's something special, something magic about the sort of people who read books and then give them away to strangers.
Giving, sharing, caring, bubbly, quirky, thoughtful. There's something in them that makes my heart smile, in the words of one of my BookCrossing friends.
And friends they are. From sharing comments on the website forums, to meeting a few in person, to embracing the community around the world, my life has become so much richer in the four years and more that I have been proud to call myself a BookCrosser.
BookCrossers gather on a regular round, in cities, in nations, in global assemblies. I've now attended thirteen BookCrossing conventions, and any number of smaller, less formal meetings.
If formal is the right word for such a cheerful community.
Each convention opens with smiles and hugs for friends old and new. We trickle in from places near and far, and I've never yet attended a BookCrossing convention where some, sometimes most, of the attendees have not crossed oceans and national borders. We smile and give each other gifts, and then we unload our bags.
There's always a table. BookCrossing means giving away books, and we make a mountain of books on a convenient table. A book buffet. A feast of literature.
There are squeals of pleasure as treasures are unearthed. The book we've wanted to read for months is found, freely given away. We drop off our own recent joys and chuckle as they are discovered by friends. Later on there will be a cascade of computer activity as we log on to record our transactions, but for now, we talk and laugh over our adventures since we last met.
There's always tales. The book we dangled from a tree, calling it a branch library. The romance book, set free on Valentines Day. The travel guide found by backpackers and released again on the Great Wall.
The trips we've taken, the friends we've met. Our families, our pets, our joys and troubles. We share them all. There are cards and stuffed toys, books and bangles, bags and funny hats, t-shirts with clever logos and photographs of everyone and everything.
The smiles and laughter bubble up, growing and glowing as groups form and mingle.
Every convention has a program. We tour the local bookshops, buying more books that we'll end up sharing with comrades and complete strangers. We assemble in parks, leaving statues decorated with books. We travel on buses and ferries, a helpful ticketseller running after us, "Hey, is this your book?" "No, it's yours!"
We sit down for talks by writers, and we line up to buy their signed copies. We compete for trivia prizes, where the questions are all about books.
And we take photographs to put up on the web, to share the spirit with the wider world of the BookCrossing community. Because no matter how many gather, there are always those who cannot make it. Hundreds, thousands around the world. No hotel is big enough for us all. Together we could populate a city, a city where librarians rule.
And then it's over. We share hugs and smiles, pick up our bags to return to our real life homes, families and jobs. This is the part that brings me down, as the happiness, the love I feel for my friends becomes diluted and dispersed.
For love it is. What else could give me such warmth, such pleasure?
My life is a cycle, of ups and downs, of meetings and partings. It's a heartbeat. A happy heartbeat.
