I love books. I love them until they're worn and tired. Then I love them even more. Pretty books are either new or not worth my time. Give me frayed edges, ripped covers and torn binding. I want annotations and underling and that stain from when I drank cocoa while reading.
Don't get me wrong. I do not abuse books. In fact, my hardcover books are in perfect condition.
Paperbacks give me the freedom to drag a book through my life. School, reastaurant, hair salon, friend's house. They're light and easy, manageable.
And the smell. Somehow hardcover just doesn't get the smell right. Oh, how I love the new book smell and, oh, how I adore the worn library book smell.
So I choose paperback. All the story, easy and manageable, all for a cheaper price. I'll take it.
Oh and this all stems from this contest to win a copy of Suite Scarlett by Maureen Johnson.
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I like paperbacks, too, as long as they're trade paperbacks. I've gotten where I don't like mass markets at all.
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