Opening the cover beyond the title and an author’s name, ignoring the blurb in the rear, smelling the pages, and anticipating what lies within. The smell of books decomposing ever so slowly, losing their cellulose and lignin is known as bibliosmia. A book shed that information to me once. A bibliophile needs to know that. Some folk say books smell and attract us. It could be. I’d have to read about that to understand it.

The peaty, earthy, and slightly musty smell is neither a grotesque or pleasant smell. It is a familiar one. So, today, on my 41st birthday, I open Vince Flynn’s American Assassin. I’m unsure if I have seen the movie by the same name. It’s insignificant. All I know is that I want to read the book and feel the author’s words. My Aunty Christine rehomed this book with me. She recommended it. That was some time ago. Good things come to those who wait?

The nostalgia of feeling a book in your hand has made me ignore my Kobo e-reader, almost immediately after Mum gave it to me years ago. I’ve used it for reading literacy documents and nonfiction. That’s all. The bibliochor fragrance is all too tempting. Tiny dust mites, squashed spiders lost in the pages, and the odd note by a predecessor of a reader make books a fair journey into timelines and places beyond the text. Each book, even the crap ones, packs potential for a new world or inspiration to read more, write better, or seek new nostalgic texts.

Some books are unpardonable and need discarding. Some can not be put down. Some demand full attention, and some will sit silently awaiting the caress of a gentle reader. A few books will get battered and lay tattered. Many will touch hearts, and others may heal, or hug, or wrap amongst the DNA of the eyes upon the pages. Emotions and feelings from junior texts to deeper heavier lexile demands may equally challenge or relax a reader. The duality of opening a book and opening a door to a new story awaits.

Simon & Schuster, the publishers sits on the spine. The New York Times Bestseller awaits. So, prelude, page one… off we go… over to you, Vince Flynn. I’m ready to read.