and the librarian

We ponder the relationship between books and readers.

Last week we presented the collection of books owned by one of our consultants, whom we’ll continue to call our librarian.  (Actually, “collection” is not the proper word here; that implies a directed acquisition process, a systematic buying of things and a valuing of complete sets.  Perhaps it’s better to stick to “library,” which is closer to the reality of a diverse roomful mostly organized around several themes.)  We did not, however, discuss how he came to have such a thing.

It’s not because he grew up in a time when books were the only diversion or entertainment; he’s not so old as that.  There were alternatives, easily available and which he took advantage of.  But, as we’re noted before, each form of communication is different, and books have their own attractions in telling a story.  In addition, a lot of his education occurred when books were the most complete and useful way to collect information (as they still are, to some extent).  So he is used to books, in a way many younger people are not.

Physically, he is more comfortable reading a set of writing on paper than on a screen, and finds it more flexible.  Too much should not be made of this.  Many of his peers have made the transition to tablets without trouble and, indeed, would not go back if they could.  In digital form, his current library would take up negligible space; there are certainly attractions.  But so far he is like our photographer: neither denies that the digital world is better in many ways; but it’s not so much better that either would switch away from (respectively) paper and film.  Yet.

But a large part of his library came to him, as it were, by chance: he inherited it from ancestors who were serious readers (and, indeed, some were serious writers).  There are volumes chosen by people with more literary taste than he has, or at least different tastes: quality hardback editions of classics, a pleasure to reread; other fiction that is now unknown, but well worth the time spent.  There is no question he’ll retain these.

Another part of the inherited library is harder to justify.  These are inexpensive editions of common works.  They are easily available nowadays, in paper and digital form.  They were never made to last, and are tending now to fall apart.  When he took some examples to a bookbinder for repair, he was gently told that a new cover would not help if the pages were disintegrating.  And even though some are very old, they are not valuable to any collector.  Simple age is not an economic plus.  In this they’re like our photographer’s Brownies.

He will keep these, of course, as much for the hands that once held them as for the writing in them.  One’s own library is a personal thing.