Looking through someone’s bookshelf helps form our idea of who they are. It can feel more intimate than stealthily creeping open their medicine cabinet for a curious peek. Many more juicy secrets are to be found in one’s bookshelves. That is unless they are a nonreader – gasp! – and have books only for show, all with a lonely air about them, intact bindings and all (which says a whole lot  more about them as a person, really, and you may want to take a moment to ponder what you’re doing in their house). A bookshelf tells us what they deemed worthwhile reading in their coveted free time and gives us a glimpse into their mind. You know the feeling, when perusing a shelf and suddenly you think ‘Ah, interesting, wouldn’t have thought old so-and-so would be interested in the physics of time and space’ and suddenly you’re looking at them from a new perspective. Exciting, isn’t it?

So I offer to you my current bookshelf, unabashed and unedited…