The Smell of Books (In Which I Reveal My Immense Dorkiness)
Every since childhood, I’ve had a sensitive nose. If I actually drank the stuff, I suppose I might have had a future as a sommelier.
I’m not sure if this is scientific fact or not, but to me smell the best sense for evoking memory. I remember a Christmas a few years ago when somebody received a gift made of leather. My brother and I both recognized the smell instantly, but it took us most of the morning to work out what it was: leather ties which were wore to formal events when we were 8 and 10 years old.
Today the folks at Lonely Planet (via the folks at Raincoast Books) sent Geeky Traveller two newish books. The instant I opened them I was reminded of books from the dorkier days of my youth. This happens fairly regularly with books–the smell of the paper, ink or glue (or some combination there-in) strongly calls to mind (usually much-loved) books from my younger days.
Experimental Travel–a beautifully designed book–smells exactly (here I am riffling the pages directly under my nose) like certain Dungeons & Dragons modules (modules were short, playable adventures). In particular, for reasons I can’t explain, it smells like Expedition to Barrier Peaks.
The other book is Micronations, which is all about ‘home-made nations’ like Sealand. It’s printed on glossy paper, and thus smells precisely like Robotech Art 1, an episode guide for the popular Japanese animation series which I read cover-to-cover-to-cover-to-cover when I was twelve.
I know, the scale of my childhood dorkiness is daunting. I was just practicing, of course, for the adult dorkiness that followed.
