Abstract I Am An Unrepentant Devotee of libraries. I have never outgrown habits acquired as a youngster, wandering down to Adriance Memorial Library in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., on Saturday afternoons and spending endless hours reading about whatever came to mind. It was truly a window on the world. Library books have a characteristic smell, a feel-one might almost say an aura. The edges of pages crack in characteristic ways. There is something sensual as well as intellectual in being surrounded by aged books. I also love the silence of the stacks, for aisle-wandering is a lonely occupation.