I derive joy from many things in life, most of them very simple pleasures like food and sleep. The joy of a wonderful book is something that never fails to amaze me, how someone can create such an original work that can captivate and leave a lasting impression in the way that it does. I'm currently reading Two Lives by Vikram Seth, as a precursor to the intimidating A Suitable Boy, and it's an extremely absorbing read, a stunningly told tale. I have amassed many, many books over the years. I love how creased and crinkled and loved they become. My books, at this stage, deserve a decent home. They are currently in the loving care of my parents (I just couldn't deal with providing the space they required when I made my last house move), but when I move to my new house they'll have a more permanent home, so it's a chance for me to knuckle down to the task of displaying them proudly - and, of course, tidily. I love love love this pic of Chotda's colourful but oh-so-organised bookshelves, proving that books can give aesthetic, as well as intellectual, pleasure.