In the books by Ruy-Sanchez we find again the erotic conviction that allows us to read with all the skin. The erotic, in his narratives is not a subject or a phrase, it is the clay of what they are made. In his novels every experience, trivial or extraordinary, breaths through the erotic.

Readers, censors know, are defined by the books they read.

But at night, when the library lamps are lit, the outside world disappears and nothing but the space of books remains in existence.

Ultimately, the number of books always exceeds the space they are granted.

Reading in bed is a self-centered act, immobile, free from ordinary social conventions, invisible to the world, and one that, because it takes place between the sheets, in the realm of lust and sinful idleness, has something of the thrill of things forbidden.

Existing libraries, in their very being, seem to question the authority of those in power.

During the day, the library is a realm of order.