I’ll admit, I have alot of addictions. Most of them are food related. Cake mix, crème brûlée, hibachi…

But that is just addiction—not fetish.

ad·dic·tion [uh-dik-shuhn]
-noun
1. the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

fet·ish [fet-ish, fee-tish]
–noun
1. an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency.

2. any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect, or devotion: to make a fetish of high grades.

3. Psychology. any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.

So what is my fetish? Books. Books are my fetish. Not the act of reading books, but the books themselves. The physical book. The item that you hold. Every facet of their physical form is my fetish; typography, layout, binding, end pages, lead type, lithographs, deckled edges, wood carvings, gold leafing, Artists’ books, incanabula, gatherings, gallies, the depth of the impression of type…this is my fetish. This is my potent spirit, the object of my reverence and devotion, that which causes a habitual erotic response.

It only made sense then that I went to Smith College in the Pioneer Valley. On a recent trip back there I was able to see a small exhibition in the Neilson Library devoted solely to a bookbinder. The sheer excitement and glee with which I hovered over the collection and described to my guest some of the subtleties, made it clear that I have missed my book exploring years at Smith—the chance of finding a book in the stacks not taken out since 1921. As you’ll see from this wonderful and nostalgia producing NY Times article, I was in just the right place during those formative years: In the Valley of the Literate.

At Amherst Books, a local professor read from his new book on Chinese history at 5 p.m., while a children’s book author, also local, followed at 7:30, along with cider and pumpkin bread. Across the street at the Jones Library, a lecture on the graphic novel got under way at 7 p.m. At the same time, dealers were raising their bidding cards at an auction of rare and antiquarian books at the Hotel Northampton, 15 minutes away. Up the street at Smith College, several hundred students and community members gathered at 8 p.m. for a poetry reading, while the Broadside Bookshop sold books by the author at a table in the back of the hall.

All this on a Tuesday evening. The next day, a local paper listed 20 more author readings and book events coming up that week.

If you love books, here is the quintessential reason to go to Smith College… if you have a vajayjay, of course.

On another note and back to an addiction: here’s a hilarious 8 seconds of crème brûlée: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFhsgkseQEM