I love Robertson Davies. By heaven, an engaging, readable story, and though not sacrificing a bit of being a great story, also lovely, witty, erudite writing.
Also contributions for the Invisible Library: Dunstable Ramsay, A Hundred Saints for Travellers, Forgotten Saints of the Tyrol, and Celtic Saints of Britain and Europe.
Fiction has probably proliferated most, but though the nonfiction expanded more slowly, it had less space, just 12 feet of shelving. So along with gifts for Increase I bought a bookcase. It's only four inches wider than the one it displaced but has five shelves instead of three. The three-shelfer went into a corner of my study, behind the closet door, for fiction to swell into (and perhaps by the time that's full, we'll have a breakfast nook and its shelves; after that, I dunno).
I listened to "Jaws" and put together yet another piece of particle board. I had been able to hoist the piece from shelf to cart in the store, and from cart to hatchback, but I opened the box in the street and brought four armloads of pieces downstairs. Emptying the old bookcase and moving it, and emptying another bookcase so I could scoot it four inches to the right (now the rocking chair is out from the corner, at an angle), inserting "cam locks," screwing in brackets, nailing on the back, and reorganzing the books (including the 18" stack that had accumulated elsewhere) took me from "Come on in, the water's great!" to "I always hated the water"--"I can't imagine why."
Then I picked up RDC from the airport.