libros

I've recently promised myself to stop buying books, even though perusing the shelves of my favorite bookstores is a favorite pastime now bordering a guilty pleasure. I couldn't resist purchasing when I ran across Carlos María Domínguez's short book, the house of paper. It's only fitting that the story is about book lovers, and just so happens to have a Latin American twist.

As readers, we spy on our friends' libraries, if only as a pastime. Occasionally we hope to find a book we want to read but do not have, or to find out what the animal opposite us has devoured. And at home, we leave a colleague sitting in the living room, and return to find him standing there, without fail, sniffing at our books.
-from the house of paper

A plane wreck in the middle of the Andes in the 1970s. Stranded survivors from a Uruguayan rugby team. Resorting to cannibalism to avoid starvation.

Sound familiar? Likely: the story was originally told in the bestselling book Alive, which was later made into a movie.

Next time you're heading to Spain, pack In the Garlic next to your guidebook (or you can pick it up when you get there). I wished I had read the book at the beginning of my trip, as it would have explained so much of my confusion about Spanish culture, for example:

When I walk by people on the street in a small town and I say "hola", why are they saying "adios"?
We say hello, and they say goodbye. We're used to this now, but it remained weird for a long time. When walking down the street it's only natural to greet someone you know with "Hola". The Spanish, however, get right to the point and dispatch you with an "Adios".