BORROWED BOOKS.

Timaru Herald, Volume XCVIII, Issue 18084, 2 June 1923, Page 4

BORROWED BOOKS.

A LENDER ON THE BORROWERS' ATTITUDE.

(By Emma Al. Wise.). It lias been suggested to me that I ougut so iiaie no ok oorrowers. remaps 1 snouui, nut i don't. Xney annoy me, certainly, but J. do not nate tneiu vvitn tnat nery iiatred wxuc.li m tne oooit-iover is accounted a virtue. My grievance is not so muen that the people wno norrow my books never voluntarily return tiiem, but tnat tney apparently lose all interest in tnem irom tne moment tney talie tnem liome. Nine or ten weeks alter tne disappearance of a volume 1 meet tne borrower i m the street and venture to say: “By the way, nave you nmsned reading ‘Tne Deatn of Society’?” This query is usuauy answered by the remark: “Uni that book belongs to you, does it? I couldn't tor tne me of me remember where 1 got it. Really, I haven't begun it yet. 1 am so busy that 1 simply cannot get a moment in the day for reading.” The retort direct would seem to be : “Then why did you borrow it?” but social convention places a ban on such straightforwardness, and any attempt at improvising a polite pretext for requesting the return of tne book is usually forestalled by some further casual remark, such as: “X shall not try to read it now. I will take it with me on my holiday, and read it in the country.” . Frequently my question is met with surprise or an expression of injured innocence, and the assurance that 1 must be mistaken. No, my acquaintance is quite sure that she has not got “The Death of Society,” and only embarrassing insistence in my part .is finally rewarded by the recollection: “To be sure, X did take the book; didn’t I? But I gave it to Alabel Wilkins quite a month ago, and I had forgotten all about it. 1 will try to get it the next time X see her.”I have often wondered what the unreasoning but certain instinct is that enables the undiscriminating bookborrower, whose only standard m judging a book is the cover, to pounce | upon one’s -most recently acquired pos- j sessions; upon the one book whose pub- i lication has been most eagerly awaited; j whose acquisition has been most fondly j anticipated; and whose final position in j the ranks of the cherished volumes most j gladdens the eye. . . , | In my young and enthusiastic days mistaken altruism prompted me to share indiscriminately my literary discovcrics and enthusiasms, but depxessing experiences have taught me the un- | wisdom of my ways. By degrees 1 j have become less and less communistic ] and more and more selfish in this re-, spect, until now, when the borrowers) familiar remark, “Got anything to, read?” greets my ears, as she begins to rummage aimlessly over my table, instead of proferring the favourite volume I employ subterfuge, and pray that she will not happen upon that special treasure. But prayers and evasions are futile. Her eye has spotted the favourite, and it cannot be diverted. Exasperating, certainly; yet I cannot hate the book borrower; Xam only an-