Falling in Love, By the Book

Where do bibliophiles exchange sweet nothings? To find out, read on!

- Karla Marie-Rose Derus 

I was always a reader. As a kid, I walked to the library several times a week and stayed up late reading with a flashlight. I checked out so many books and returned them so quickly the librarian once snapped, “Don’t take home so many books if you’re not going to read them all.” “But I did read them all,” I said.

I was an English major in college and went on to get a master’s in literature. When I created my online dating profile, I made my screen name “missbibliophile52598.” Filling out the “favorite books” section, I let my taste in literature speak for me: One Hundred Years of Solitude, A Moveable Feast, White Teeth, The Namesake, The Known World, The God of Small Things, How to Read the Air.

But I realized it had been more than two years since I had read most of those titles. I had stopped reading gradually, the way one heals or dies. I tried to maintain my bookish persona. I joined book clubs that I never attended. I requested a library book everyone was reading, only to return it a week late, unread, with fines.

I still loved the idea of reading. I treasured books and bookstores. Whenever I found one, I would linger between the shelves for hours as if catching up with old friends, picking out volumes I had read and buying new ones. But it was clear to me: I was becoming a person I did not know.

David was my first online date. His profile said he liked to read, so I asked him about his last book. His face lit up and his fingers danced. David read much more than I did, about a book or two a week. We seemed an unlikely couple: me, a five-foot-three black woman born to a Caribbean mother, and him, a six-foot-four white guy from Ohio. But as we got to know each other, our shared faith and mutual love of books bridged our gaps.