For novels, I write in pencil along the spine on the inside cover with the date and location where I read it. There are favorites I’ve reread years later, and it’s interesting why I’ve gravitated toward the book again when I place it in the timeline of my life (thinking especially of my Iris Murdoch collection of Penguins).

It all started as a kid, when I played librarian for myself as the only reader. I labeled every childhood book - and there were many - with my name, sometimes using my rubber stamp, and a “card pocket” made from an envelope cut in half with an index card saying “my name, my town name, Mini Library.”

I never loaned out my books, but loved organizing and arranging them. I didn’t become a librarian when I grew up, but did work in my college library. And I still have many collections, labeled with bookmarked slips in the collectible ones with date and price. And the ISBNs are all scanned and catalogued, but I’m a paper person at heart, not digital.

Last week my mother just sent me a box of childhood books I had missed taking. There were my labels, along with my grandmother’s inscriptions in story books she gifted me long ago. I now treasure those.