Ultimate Collectables

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“Collectible ebook” is a phrase you never hear.  That’s because such a thing doesn’t exist.  Even though I work in the publishing industry, I’m not really a fan of ebooks.  I don’t write my books anticipating pointing to some screen and crowing, “I wrote that!”  No, books exist as entities and there’s a kind of contempt associated with making them disposable by creating them out of ephemera.  I’m not wealthy enough to be a serious book collector, but when I buy used books I notice the rare category of “collectible” with some envy.  This is a book that has been treasured.  You see, I know that when I die I’ll leave little behind apart from my books.  If they were ebooks they’d be worthless.  You can’t sell them or trade them in.  Or even put them into a little free library.

Sometimes buying electrons seems to be more convenient than the alternative.  For example, we’ve pretty much run out of space for DVDs and Amazon seems unlikely to fold soon (like UltraViolet did), so subscribing to a streaming for a movie seems safe enough.  Yes, you can resell DVDs, but often for a pittance and you gain by opening more space.  The space books take up demonstrates their importance.  We bought our house with an eye toward book space, and even though we don’t have many books that would be considered “collectible,” we do have many that are interesting.  Unusual.  They have been conversation-starters when we’ve had the curious over.  (I always look at other people’s books when invited to someone’s place, if they’re publicly displayed.  It’s how people get to know each other.  I’ve never looked at anyone’s ebooks.)

Books are a cultural object.  The big tech companies have been trying to drive traffic to ebooks for years.  The pandemic gave them a leg up, but book sales—print book sales—also increased.  You can watch only so much Netflix, I guess.  I have yet to find a study that shows something read on a screen stays longer, or receives deeper engagement than something in print does.  To be sure, electronic reading has its place, but its place isn’t to replace actual books.  I guess I’m suspicious of the electronic revolution.  It feels fragile and tenuous to me.  If the power goes out we’re left without our gadgets and their contents.  You can still light a candle, however, and read an actual book.  And if bought and treated wisely, you may even find something collectable on your hands.

Library Respect

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I didn’t know what to do.  All my life I’d been told “library books aren’t your books—treat them like they belong to somebody else.”  And here I was with a checked-out library book with uncut pages.  This was in Edinburgh, and to make matters more interesting, it was an interlibrary loan book.  What was I supposed to do?  Finally I found the sharpest butter knife in the drawer and carefully cut the edges.  (This was before uneven pages became trendy again.)  Then, some time later I was reading another library book and I found writing in it.  Writing!  Who did this borrower think s/he was, writing in a book that belonged to someone else?  And what was more, the writing was done in ink.

Perhaps some readers get so caught up in a book that they forget it’s not theirs.  As for me, I’ve never been so bold as to think others would want my thoughts in a library book.  That’s what notebooks are for.  Of course, since that experience I’ve found many library books with writing in them.  These days when I have to buy books for research, not being affiliated any more, I tend to get them used.  From libraries often.  I look for the designation “very good” in the description since this specifies “clean” interiors, generally since they were library books.  I’m guessing that those who classify used books operate under the same delusion that I used to—people don’t write in library books.  The most recent three or four ex-library books I’ve ordered (all “very good”) have had ink writing and underlining in them.  You can see this at a glance.

The most recent one arrived the other day and on my initial thumb-through I found the now expected ink markings, but also two pages stuck together by a wad of gum.  This passes beyond the realm of unthinking behavior to criminal, at least in my mind.  Who sticks chewed gum between the pages of a book?  A book they don’t even own?   I did what anyone would do: I checked the book out on Internet Archive and wrote, in ink, the obliterated words in the margin.  I’m the first to admit I’m sensitive about books.  When I buy a new one I try to finish it with no sign that it’s even been opened.  No creases on the spine, no banged edges.  When I fail in this I feel badly, like I’ve hurt a friend.  At least I don’t have to worry about cutting the pages.  And even if I do, I know that it’s a trendy look these days.