What to buy in those frazzled moments when a gift is needed? It springs a niggling kind of fear upon the present-buyer, not least at Christmas when lists are made, broken and made again. A badly judged present is enough to prompt internal questions about a friendship or family tie. It is tantamount to casting a gypsy curse upon its recipient, even though their polite smile feigns gratitude. Choosing a book as the gift shrinks the likelihood of such a dud, and showers over the giver a feeling of serenity, as if he is some cordial monk offering quiet blessings before retreating.
Every now and again the book offered as a present has been directly mentioned, often accompanied by the words, ‘But, honestly, don’t bother getting me anything this year,’ or taken as an inkling from a recent conversation. Beyond such direction, choosing correctly is a fine balance of science and heart, often underwritten by a check with the receiver’s partner. There is a protracted bookshop visit involving the initial selection of two or three possible choices. They are then set down on a display table, finalists prodded and judged like prized cattle, and the winner selected after a period of earnest deliberation. Though there is a temptation to impose and prescribe reading matter, not always will these purchases be to your taste, as reflected in your justification of them at the till. ‘That’s what they all say,’ offers a wary shop assistant while sliding a True Crime Special annual into a carrier bag.
After careful inscription and dating, the book is prepared for its new life. Wrapping it is infinitely more pleasurable than packaging other items, such are its even lines and taut corners. Three shards of Sellotape are rubbed into place making agreeable security guards, and a tag added to identify yourself with this most civilised of offerings. Following delivery, its obvious identity beneath a tree or marooned on a gift table is part of the charm: the book has no pretence or mystique, beyond the wonder of which title it could be, and is a guarantee of future blessed solitude to a birthday or Christmas-besieged recipient.
Should you witness your gift being unwrapped, the recipient’s reaction will, at the very worst, be one of curiosity. It is unlikely that disappointment or disgust will rise there and then. Most likely is the consideration of your offering’s title, and a quick roll over to eye its back-page credentials, before another present is dangled.
Delight in the giving is usually delayed. It rises later in the occasion when on Christmas Day late afternoon you notice the recipient filed away in a corner, flicking and beginning. Or it can bubble-up following the event – weeks after a family party, a message reaches you that ‘Peter is enjoying that smashing whisky book you got him.’ There is an almost selfish type of joy in becoming aware that you bought such pleasure, but it is bathed in the warmth of one who knows how it feels to be gifted a fitting book. For when it comes to books, receiving is the only thing greater than giving.