I have a secret. Ever since I received the advance copies of Paris Red last month, I’ve been carrying one with me everywhere I go. I don’t mean that I show it to everyone (though I have shared it with friends), I just mean that I always have a copy in my bag.

I guess I can’t bear to be parted from it.

I’ve written before about how I often carried a jump drive with the novel in my jeans pocket and about how I couldn’t stop looking at the Norton book jacket design, so this behavior isn’t really new. But having a physical book is a different pleasure. It feels good to hold the thing in my hand.

It’s not just my book that I’m willing to carry around, either. I know many people are devoted to their Kindles and Nooks, but I love the physical presences of books, and I willingly carry their weight with me. Even when I backpacked through France and Italy, traveling light, I had to bring one book with me:  Linda Gregg’s Too Bright to See. I needed it in my life and couldn’t picture leaving it behind when I got on a plane. Here’s my worn copy from 1981:

When have you carried a book with you, unwilling to be parted from it?