I rarely borrow books from friends. Part of it is that I’m happy to pick up a copy of a title recommended to me at the library. The other part is knowing that, given the fact I regularly rack up sizable fines at the library for overdue books, I’ll likely not return books lent to me from others in any sort of timely manner, either.

When I moved in January and packed up eight years’ worth of living in the same place, one of my priorities was weeding my book collection. I managed to clean out quite a bit. Most went to a local shelter that gives books to young people who often enter the shelter with nothing but the clothing on their backs. A few went to the recycling bin because they weren’t in any worthwhile condition or they simply weren’t the kind of thing that might interest a younger reader. I didn’t think a whole lot about the books in my possession which weren’t mine. They ended up in the flat bags I moved books in and made their journey across state borders to settle into their new homes.

And yet, the books we borrow — whether we’re habitual borrowers or rare borrowers — tell us something, don’t they?

I know there are two books on my shelf which are borrowed from others. One is a massive literary tome and the other a slight book of comics.IQ84 by Haruki Murakami came to me in the fall a few years ago, while I was spending a long weekend with my friend in Houston. She was a fan of the book and knew I was a fan of Murakami’s weird fiction. I knew I wouldn’t get to read it in any reasonable time frame because it’s just so big, but she insisted I borrow it without worrying about getting it back to her in any reasonable time frame.

The book sits on my shelves still. I haven’t cracked it. I’m still intimidated by size, despite knowing I’d probably enjoy it. In the interim years, my friend left Houston, moved to Vermont, then moved to Ottawa and became a Canadian citizen.

Even though I haven’t read it and, quite frankly, don’t see myself reading it any time in the near future, each time I see it on my shelves I think of her and remember that weekend. I think, too, about how many great conversations she and I have had about books and reading, about recommendations we’ve passed back and forth. About the times she’s texted me from the airport to ask for a good airport bookstore title she could read while traveling around the word.

The other book still sitting on my shelf, unreturned, is one I’ve read. Then read. Then read again. It’s a book that I know I’ve had the chance to return numerous times, but I think back to how much I enjoy the book and it never seems top priority to return it when given the chance.

Early in the librarian career, I wanted to up my knowledge of comics and graphic novels, and a friend who loved comics (and at the time, was married to a fellow comic lover) brought a stack over for me to read. This included some superheroes, but it also included a lot of non-franchise, non-serialized titles to peruse. Peanutbutter and Jeremy’s Best Book Ever never seemed to return home with them.

Peanutbutter and Jeremy is a comic about a cat named Peanutbutter who dresses in a fancy hat and tie because she believes she works in an office. Jeremy is the clever crow who lives in the tree outside Peanutbutter’s house. The comic is much like Tom and Jerry but it’s really Peanutbutter and Jeremy — Jeremy spends his days trying to trick Peanutbutter but at the end of the day, they develop a close friendship. Kochalka’s art is delightful to look at, and I think part of why the comic resonated with me so much was that it’s appropriate for young readers and older ones, in a style that reminds me a lot of Sara Varon’s comics (Robot Dreams is my all-time favorite comic).

 

I wonder about returning the book in a different way now than I do with IQ84. The friend who lent it to me got it from the partner she’s no longer with. Would it be awkward to return it to her? I don’t know him well enough to broach the subject and, if I’m being honest, I wonder if it would stir weird things with him, especially if he is unaware I still have it. Maybe he never knew it was in my possession to begin with.

Perhaps I’m overthinking it all together and, after a certain time frame of it not being brought up, it’s now something for me to keep hold of and own as my own. An unexpected gift, given without the intention of it being so.

In my personal library, I can think only of these two books as borrowed. I definitely returned some titles to their rightful owners before moving, but these two hung on. Part of it is my interest in reading them (in the case of the Kochalka comic, rereading numerous times). But perhaps a bigger part is that both come steeped in specific memories and moments with individuals in my life that I hold onto and need to hold onto for just a little longer.

I’m grateful to not owe them late fees, as I’m forever in debt to my local public library.