David McKie confesses his obsession with book spines in a fascinating piece in the London Guardian. OK. I'll admit it. I'm guilty of the same bookish vice. Indeed, whatever bookish vices exist--and McKie seems to identify quite a few of them in his essay--of them all, I seem to be duly, justly, roundly guilty. Worst of all, I have no intentions whatsoever of reforming my habits or changing my ways. I fear I'm an inveterate, unrepentant logogogue.