I know there are people who love to share books, but I cringe at the thought. The first time I lent out some books, it took more than a year to get them back and they were slightly worn. The next time, my fiance's mother wanted to borrow some. I couldn't say no to that; both she and my faince's father treated me very well.
She ended up borrowing four paperbacks and one hardcover, and she essentially destroyed all of them, turning them into the ratty things you see on the cheap shelves of used book stores. Each paperback had its spine turned into a deformed cascade of crinkles due to her habit of bending the book all the way over to read it one-handed. She somehow broke the hardcover away from its binding on half of the front cover, as if she had to strike it with a hammer every time she wanted to read it, just to make sure it was dead.
I had to replace all of the books she borrowed, for my own peace of mind. Lovely person, but the fact that I no longer have to lend her my books is one of the few bright spots of becoming un-engaged.
Chapterfish — Nate's Writing Blog
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