Trying to read over the noise of my little brother's Speed Racer Sky Jump toy is impossible, even for me. It sounds like a cement mixer. As much as I love explosions, car crashes and death-defying stunts, sometimes the desire for silence (or at least quiet) takes precedence.

Reading The Library at Night is not an experience to be had when noises abound. The book takes on the feel of a library and its many silent tomes, and it demands to be read when the reader is able to sit peacefully, still and soak up the stories. At least that's how it seems to me, book-obsessed as I am (this book proving to be no exception to the rule; in fact in many ways the desire for this book is greater than for others, this being a book about libraries -a book about books -a book written by a man who has a gorgeous library that, when I see pictures of it, fills me with envy).

The Library at Night is a book I read with coffee in mind or at hand, and with nothing else going on. It's spoiled otherwise. Stringent demands for a reader like me; I read anywhere: in class, in the car, in bed, outside, inside, in restaurants, while driving (okay, just kidding) -you get the idea.

The book is great. Habent sua fata libelli -my new favorite phrase. Books have their own fate.

Go buy a copy of TLaN. I haven't reviewed it yet, but I'm telling you now -you don't want to miss out on this.