There are two types of people in the world: those who read books, and those who buy them. I happen to be both — sometimes in equal measure, sometimes not.
You see, I’ve always had a soft spot for hardcovers. And not just any hardcovers — the kind that come with ribbon bookmarks, textured jackets, gilded edges, or limited-edition embossing. I’ve bought clothbounds I’ll never dog-ear, leatherbounds I’ve sworn to keep pristine, and coffee table books whose spines haven’t been cracked open since the day they arrived.
For years, I resisted…
