I won’t lie: I fantasize about home libraries. I imagine sitting in a well-worn recliner, drink in hand, surrounded by overflowing bookshelves that tower floor to ceiling. Perhaps there’s a wetbar in the corner, where I can pour myself a gin and tonic.
Right now, I have several bookshelves (including three in my home office) in different rooms of the house. The one downstairs is used not only for books, but photographs and a couple of vases. My wife is big on decorating bookshelves with things other than books. This is a sin. I see nothing wrong in stuffing a bookshelf to full capacity and beyond with nothing but books.