Our house is overflowing with books. There are books in the living room, books in the dining room, in the hall, in the upstairs hall, in my office, in Mike’s office, in the guest bedroom and in the downstairs loo.
In fact the only rooms that don’t have shelves of books, most double banked, are the bathroom, upstairs loo and our bedroom. Though even here I have a pile of books, which I am in the process of reading, at the side of the bed.
I do read two, or sometimes even three, books at a time. The really intense, highly literary, or just plain scary I have to save for daylight hours. The lighter ones are for last thing at night. Then of course there are the books on more spiritual matters to be dipped into when needed.
This all might sound rather over the top, but for me books furnish a house. Without them rooms are empty and echo.
They also have practical uses. The ones on the kitchen floor today are holding in place the newly stuck down carpet strip.
Now a Kindle can’t possibly do that.