My one-post campaign: The importance of an inscription

Having left my book (The Road to Wigan Pier by George Orwell) in the office, I was at a loose end for bedtime reading when I finally stumbled home last night. As it was late and I had had three glasses of wine, I wasn't looking for anything particularly cerebral, experimental or dense. While I wasn't going to dash out in search of a Jordan-"penned" bestseller, I certainly wasn't in the mood for Milton, Chaucer or the like. And as I perused our huge bookcase in the kitchen I realised two things:
1. All of my favourite, most comforting books are from people I have loved/ love
2. They all have messages written on the inside of the cover.
The Crying Lot of of 49 by Thomas Pynchon has a love letter written inside from a Berlin philosphy phD student I spent two heady months with in 2004 drinking red wine and kissing. Three years later, a film-maker I'd met twice ran after my departing bus to Glasgow to give me a copy of The Cinnamon Peeler by Michael Ondaatje with a note that simply says safe journey home inside. And when I got my degree results, my Mum gave me copy of The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets by Eva Rice that says inside, Dear Sara, Well Done!!!, Love Mum and George(my stepdad). Although it is essentially just two words, every time I open that book I remember how excited and happy we were.
And so, despite not being the campaigning type, I have written this post as a plea to anyone who may at one point buy a loved/hated one a book: write a message inside the cover.
It doesn't have to be beautiful, or verbose, or even correctly spelled.

But books are personal things to pass on. They say something about who you are as a person. What you care about. Why you read instead of downloading an app (or something like that). And why you choose to share this with the recipient.
In recent years, I have received books with no inscription and they just don't mean as much. I can't remember why they were given to me. Birthday? Just because? Who knows. What I do know is that when I am an old lady, naturally wearing purple, I will pick up The Crying Lot of 49 and it will still make me smile.