Our city library hosted an exhibit of art books, books made not simply as tools for conveying an author’s words, but as artistic pieces in themselves. That seemed too good to pass up, so I during a trip to the library I wandered around the display cases, looking at the books.
The theme of the exhibit was a Native American creation myths, and each artist presented a version of this myth and another book of their own choice. I stopped and admired one made of deerskin with flaps that folded over to protect the books, another made of wood, and one more with strange designs on the cover.
Then I saw a book made by Eric Alstrom and I was suddenly seized with booklust. I wanted that book. I didn’t just want to look at it in a case. I wanted to hold it and own it, to feel the tactile pleasure of its print and paper under my fingers and call it mine. My heart rate rose, I felt a little warm and my fingers prickled for it, and I only just managed to drag myself away before I steamed up its glass case with my breath.
Only my fellow book-idolaters know what I am talking about.
I once met a man who collected first editions of the Inklings, that group of literary pub-dwellers that included C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and Charles Williams. This man had a costly collection of books in his basement, which he had converted into a British style pub in appearance. I asked him if he enjoyed the Charles Williams books.
He had never read them.
Collecting books without reading them makes about as much sense to me as celibate marriage. I want books SO I can read them. But there are also times, like standing by that display case, when I want books so I can HAVE them. Wanting to read the books is greed for knowledge, filling up my brain with laughter or vicarious experiences or wisdom. Wanting to have the books, at least at that display case, is a purer form of greed.
The books I love to read are meant to be shared. There are few things so simply enjoyable as introducing someone else to a book I have loved and seeing them learn to love it too. Clutching the book to myself, hiding it from everyone else’s dirty fingers, is an unnatural fetish.
I wonder if this is how God sees our attitudes toward possessions in general. Maybe God meant things to be used and enjoyed in a way that creates joy between people, rather than held tightly or reached for resentfully.
The collector I met must have thought so anyway, because he eventually donated his wonderful collection to a university where it can be studied and enjoyed by other people. And the art book exhibit moved on from the library to the next place in its tour, where it will no doubt cause drooling in a few people besides me.
Such an art exhibit sounds fascinating.
I’ll admit that I not only want books for their contents but also because I want to possess them. I’ll share my joy about a book by recommending it heartily or even buying a copy to give to a friend, but I am hesitant to lend a favorite book out for fear of not getting it back. As none of my books are rare and most are easily replaceable, I have to chalk up this fear to that purest form of greed you referred to. But, too, my personal copy of a favorite book is like a favorite pair of old shoes or a favorite chair–broken in and comfortable. Yeah, I might be able to replace the book, but then I have to break it in again.
I’m just greedy with my books I guess, but I’m getting better.
Oh, I well know booklust – but I don’t want books that are just going to sit on my shelf and be valuable. If I love a book I’m going to tote it everywhere with me and pretty much wreck it with my luv.
Which Alstrom book was it? Book of Origens?
Or what?
Fascinating.
Oh how cool. And yes, as a fellow book idolator I know what you mean. Librarians who asked me if I’d have time to read those so many books I checked out always puzzled me. Time? Of course! Too many? No such!
Well I can of course totally relate to this! Although, like Rebecca, I kill my books with love. If I like a book, I must own it! But I can relate to the beauty of art books as well. I care about how a book looks–I just don’t mind if it’s paperback or first edition, etc.
I don’t get it either. Why collect books if you don’t READ them. The true value is on the INSIDE.
And I really scratch my head at people who pay huge amounts of money for RELIGIOUS first editions. Because, wouldn’t God be happier if you gave that money to orphans or something?
“Maybe God meant things to be used and enjoyed in a way that creates joy between people, rather than held tightly or reached for resentfully.”
yes.
As I read, I had pieces of a favorite quote floating in my mind about how books become characters in our own biography. So many markers in my own life have sprung from the pages of good books, all kinds. I enjoy having many of those books around me, because they remind me of where I’ve been, and like you, I like to be able to share them. Many times I am reminded of this or that author, and it’s wonderful to be able to put my hands on their words and read them again.
A downstairs library that looks like a pub sounds incredible-if I owned that, I’d be living down there! Contrary to his own lack of interest, I think my problem would be getting my nose out of the books! THAT would not be good around here.