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Between them, our parents had about seven thousand books. Whenever we moved to a new house, a carpenter would build a quarter of a mile of shelves; whenever we left, the new owners would rip them out. Other people's walls looked naked to me. Ours weren't flat white backdrops for pictures. They were works of art themselves, floor-to-ceiling mosaics whose vividly pigmented tiles were all tall skinny rectangles, pleasant to the touch and even, if one liked the dusty fragrance of old paper, to the sniff.

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Therese HolmEgil StangelandMads Leonard HolvikBård StøreKirsten LundHilde H HelsethEster STor Arne DahlsveinTine SundalEirin EftevandDinaAnn Helen ETanteMamiePiippokattaIngunn SEivind  VaksvikOddvarGLilleviTotoromarvikkisSigrid Blytt TøsdalIreneleserJulie StensethVibekeSynnøve H HoelHeidiPer LundTurid KjendlieMariannelittymseAnne Berit GrønbechHanneMcHempettIngvild SAlice NordliNorahChristofferBeathe SolbergBea