If you’re reading this blog this morning, it’s probably because you have a love of books. Perhaps you even have an obsession with books. I know I do. I buy way too many books. Well, not really, but that’s what my husband likes to tell me, especially after he’s tripped over one of the many TBR mountains in my office. He’s even suggested :::gasp::: that I should give some of them away.

And yes, for those interested, he’s still alive. Barely. He now walks with a limp, but that’s for another post.

Like most writers, I have a lot of books. A great a number of those books are for my reading pleasure, and I will get to them all — eventually. And then there’s the keeper shelf, or rather, bookcase. It’s loaded of course with well loved novels, most of which are romances. I have early Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s books there, Vicki Lewis Thompson and JoAnn Ross’s first Temptations (with the yellow covers, anyone remember those?). Every Lisa Gardner novel she’s written, some Tami Hoag, a few of the old Loveswepts along with early Judith Arnold, Jennifer Greene and Anne Stuart novels, among others. I love them all. Dearly. They’re dogearred and yellowed and well, let’s not talk about the dust, shall we?

In addition to the keeper bookcase, I also have two bookcases filled with a ridiculous amount of research books that I just can’t live without, even though I might not crack any of one them open but once every couple of years depending on what the subject matter of my latest might be. These books are loved with equal enthusasium of my keeper bookcase but with one exception. Marginality.

I had a professor in college once tell me that a book that doesn’t have marginality hasn’t been well read. And just what is this marginality? It’s notes in the margins. Yellow highlighted passes. Dog earred pages for easy to find information. Anything that says “I’ve been well read.”

Appalled by this treatment of something so treasured? Yes, I was, too — initally. But I soon got over my apprehension when I learned that a portion of our grade was on how much marginality our textbook for that particular class contained.

Now I happily jot notes in the margins of my research books. I can’t bring myself to do this to my beloved keepers, but it’s a rare find to open one of the research books and not find notes of some kind within the margins. I have plot ideas for possible books that came to me while reading a particular research book, characterization notes, setting notes, scene possiblities and thoughts in general on the subject of review. Some notes are illegible or faded with time, but they’re there, showing my interest for a particular subject.

So tell me, how much do you love your books? Do you keep yours stored in those acid free containers? Are they in the same condition as the day you bought them? Or do you subscribe to the theory of marginality? Do you jot notes, reminders, thoughts in your books? Inquiring minds want to know!