There’s something about holding a book in your hands. I may spend a lot of time reading and writing, but I am enchanted by incarnated, physical things. (Like blankets. And casseroles.)

At the Festival of Faith and Writing this year, when I was tired of listening to people talk about books, I wandered around in the little bookstalls set up by various vendors, just touching the books.

It’s so nice just to be able to touch the books, I told the man at one of the stalls. And then I think I blushed because it sounded sort of silly. But the man didn’t think so.

That’s right, he affirmed, with utter seriousness. We believe books are meant to be touched.

Yesterday, I got to touch my book. It took about a month, but it got here. It looks nice, and feels nice. It was printed in the USA, and the paper has that good partially-recycled-paper texture. And the cover just makes me smile.

{If you’d like to put your hands on a copy, please consider ordering from Hearts & Minds books, one of those rare places where you can actually touch the books before you buy, and where the people selling the books love books as much or more than you do. But if you’re not the book buying type, please consider asking your local library to stock it. Thanks!}