I not sure if I should write about my roommate, especially since we’ve know each other for so long. I know much more about her background than Daniel Miller did about the residents in London, and it’s hard not to have that information dominate my observations, especially when I feel like it bears importance. For one, I know that 99% of things she would call her possessions are in our room right now. I, on the other hand, have a room at home that still looks inhabited even when both my sister and I have left for college. There are books on almost every flat surface on her side of our dorm room. There are also books in her drawers, and two boxes filled with books under her desk. In the past she has told me that she treasures her books, and I know she once got very offended when her sister mishandled them. I also know that she struggled with reading up into the forth grade, so though it might not be a direct outward statement, her books may represent her overcoming this struggle. A lot of her books have a historical theme, for she is both passionate about history and a history major. She bought the book Poems on Evening and Night – that I wrote about in my last post – in Boston. She said she saw the inscription and had to have it.

The book, Poems, does not sit out on display with her favorites, but is nonetheless part of her collection of books that help her express her passion for, and keep track of, her knowledge of history. It sits among her larger “collection” of personal things; her clothes, her Gone With the Wind and van Gogh posters, her Harry Potter wands, and her tiramisu bowl. It sits in the room she calls home because it is place she feels at home. It’s a book she hasn’t really read but keeps anyway. I think the fact that the book has a history associated with WWII had an added appeal to her because her mother is passionate about Jewish history and has passed on this passion to her. I see her mother in her choice of decoration, which I think could be seen both as an effort to comply and cooperate with her tastes. Her books, though some have been gifts, are free from this relationship, and I think most have been acquired by my roommate herself. Aesthetically pleasing, they can hide behind their covers from judgment and do as they please, a sort of freedom I know she desires.