Recently, I made an unwelcome discovery: I have not been a member of a library since my master’s degree. Even accounting for lockdowns and my various house moves, this was mortifying to realise. I like to think of myself as a bookish person. I do a bookish job. I keep a record of all the books I read in a year. I have written bookish articles on bookish subjects for small bookish magazines. In August, I heaved a flatpack bookcase a mile and a half, mostly uphill*, to address The Book Stacks that were slowly and carefully taking over one corner of the living room.
The Zinn Reader: Writings on Disobedience and Democracy
