When I was a kid I had a great Aunt Caroline who always gave us books at Christmas. I don’t think I appreciated it at the time—books were better than clothes but not as good as toys. Now I wish I still had those books, or at least knew which favorites my aunt introduced me to. Caroline was my grandfather’s sister, and my grandfather died long before I was born, so to me she was just an eccentric old lady who was related in some not quite understood way. She worked at the Free Library of Philadelphia for many years and was our family’s self-appointed bibliophile at a time when I had no idea what a bibliophile was. I do remember the last Christmas that I received books from Aunt Caroline. She had passed away a few months earlier, and someone in the family had hand-picked books from her library for each of us. I was in college and had recently become interested in collecting Alice in Wonderland. Under the tree that year were two books, well-preserved in their dust jackets and with my aunt’s ownership signature—The Annotated Alice and the Modern Library Complete Works of Lewis Carroll. They were two of the first books in a collection that now numbers in the thousand of items. I still have those two books and they occupy a place of pride on my shelf. Aunt Caroline never knew about my interest in Lewis Carroll, but I like to think she would have approved, not just because I share her passion for books, but also because of her name: Caroline Lewis Lovett. Pretty cool that the object of my collecting and the family bibliophile who got me started loving books had almost the same name.