A library at night is full of sounds: The unread books can’t stand it any longer and announce their contents, some boasting, some shy, some devious.
— Helen Oyeyemi
I am intrigued and unnerved by the thought of unread books talking while we sleep. What would my unread books say? I think some of them would whine for attention, the books who felt important, or were lonely, or were extroverts. I suppose some of them might prefer the solitude, or would like to be situated next to a different book. The library books would complain about the order. The young adult books would want to hang out together. The religion books would sneeze from the dust. The nonfiction books would side-eye the novels. I hope at least a few of them were content and that the composition books I’ve written in kept quiet.