Oh gods, I feel like I'm walking on stage in my underwear. From these posts I'm definitely the freak.
I would almost always buy hardbacks for fiction. When the books arrived I would put a mylar dustjacket protector on it and scan it into my database. I categorically refused to lend one of my books to anyone. The idea of writing in a book, folding down pages, or horror of horrors, putting the book face down to hold one's place would have me hyperventilate. When I read a book, I took off the dustjacket, put that back on the shelf, and put the book in a protective zippered book protector. If I discovered an author I liked after previous books were no longer available in hardback, I would scour the used book market to find a Fine/Fine (one rating is for the book, the other for the dustjacket) and pay for it. I thought nothing of plunking down $50 for a book or buying from other countries (mainly England). I saw a book I really, really wanted, but knew my husband would kill me for plunking down $400 for a single hardback book.
A big reason I was so attached to them is I didn't want them to disappear, to never have them available again. I was born in 1977 and read my dad's Mike Mars books as a kid. Those are definitely not in print, and I doubt anyone not a kid in the 1950s would have a clue what I was talking about. I hated paperbacks, I loved long books and paperbacks would fall apart after just one read.
My husband is in shock that I've been selling my books to friends since I got my K2 (for well below market value, since I'm too lazy to do the online route). A lot of my reasons for keeping my books in such great shape is gone. I don't need to worry about damage anymore or a book "disappearing". I no longer need to worry about keeping a database up to date for insurance or buying & storing protective supplies. The limited storage of our town home is being eased by keeping fewer books around.
Okay, so that's my confession. Feel free to pity my husband for having such a crazy wife.
Lara Amber