It's seven feet high and three feet wide, and it holds ever so many books, which is good because I *have* ever so many books. And I haven't had enough shelf space for them, so some of them have been in boxes for the last two years. And now I get to see them again, and it's a little like seeing old friends you didn't realize you missed quite so much.
To celebrate, a much-loved passage from Peter Atkins's MORNINGSTAR, a horror novel with some bits of amazingly delightful writing:
The lobby of the Hyatt Regency at the Embarcadero was designed to impress. It made no bones about it. Not for it the understated elegance of some European hotels that hide their pride behind an old-world facade as if to say, "Impressive, moi?" and then blushingly acknowledge it in shy displays of oak paneling and crystal chandeliers. No, fuck that. The Hyatt swaggered. Its pride was the unselfconscious pride of the scholarship athlete whose chest measurement equals his number of working brain cells. If the Hyatt had stomach muscles, it would almost certainly invite you to feel them.