book-exp.txt

The only time I was scolded in elementary school was for returning a damaged library book. A drop in the bathtub had left the pages of Matilda irreparably wavy and crinkly. Even with a thorough blast from my pink Hello Kitty blow-dryer, the book could not be returned to its pristine condition. Librarians everywhere cringed; Jane Austen rolled in her grave. At eight years old, however, I was not deterred from finishing the book. I simply waited for the pages to dry and read on, eager to find out whether Matilda ever escapes evil Miss Trunchbull (Spoiler alert: she does). Never was the dichotomy between those who prefer well-loved books and those who keep their books pristine more evident to me.