md
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Bibliolatry (long item)
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Nov 2 16:56 UTC 1992 |
Yeah, I'm verbal-retentive when it comes to books. A magical place
for me when I was a kid was the Forest Park Branch of the
Springfield (Massachusetts) Public Library. The public library in
Springfield had been endowed by Andrew Carnegie, whose bronze
portrait bust can still be seen, I presume, in the great hall of
the main branch on State Street. They apparently blew it all on an
initial acquisition of a million or so volumes, and for several
decades thereafter could barely afford to rebind the existing stock
as it aged.
Consequently, I grew up fondling turn-of-the-century editions of
Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, Whitman, et al. A particular favorite
was an Anthology of Modern Poetry, which I read and reread with
mounting comprehension and pleasure. I was a freshman in college
before I realized that nobody had thought of Swinburne or Browning
as "modern" poets for at least half-a-century.
In my early twenties I began the process of recreating on my own
bookshelves the Forest Park Branch. Most of my books of poetry are
at least eighty years old, some much older. Browning goes back to
the 1890's, Chaucer to the 1870's, Wordsworth to 1852, Thompson's
"Seasons" to 1843. I have a "_Bracebridge Hall_ by Geoffrey
Crayon, Gent." (actually Washington Irving) that was published in
England in 1821. Assessed in monetary terms, none of these books
is very valuable; in most cases, you'd pay more for brandnew
editions than I paid at used book stores and junk shops.
In addition to these books, I have masses of whatever has caught my
attention over the years - first editions ('cause that's when I
bought 'em) of all of Nabokov, for example; tons of books, old and
new, about natural science; a whole shelf of parodies; reference
books; art books; music books; etc.
A few years ago, I mentioned to my wife that I didn't have a
readable edition of Whitman - my collected poetry dates from 1920
and my collected prose from 1890-something; both are lovely but
frail old things. Her response was to buy me for my birthday the
Library of American edition of Whitman. This started an orgy of
LoA acquisitions which has reacquainted me with many writers I
hadn't read since my paperback editions of them fell apart ages
ago, and with many more I'd never read in the first place.
I'd read Washington Irving's stories in _The Sketchbook_ and
_Bracebridge Hall_, for example, but never his _Salmagundi_ or
_Knickerbocker's History of New York_. The magnificent LoA
collection of all of Hawthorne's stories, arranged in chronologic
order by date of composition, replaced my limp, tattered 1950's-
vintage paperbacks of _Twice-Told Tales_ and _Mosses from and Old
Manse_. Edith Wharton was completely ignored by the dead-male-
oriented education establishment of my youth, so she came as a
stunning revelation to me. At some point I went a little crazy:
New Emersons and Thoreaus were the last things I needed, but I
bought the LoA's anyway when they came out. I don't even *like*
James Fenimore Cooper, but guess who I have three fat LoA volumes
of now?
Writing about books, for me, is like writing about sex. Makes me
want to go out and do it. Maybe I'll have time to pop over to
Borders...
In the meanwhile, any other bibliolators out there?
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bobguy
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response 1 of 2:
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Nov 5 05:23 UTC 1992 |
I guess I am kinda a ANTI-BIBLIOLATOR although I do like that word...
Now before you crucify me, let me tell you about Melinda...a good friend of
mine. She is a Doctoral candidate at DePaul University who received her
masters degree at EMU. When she moved to Chicago, she asked me to help and
I agreed. What I didn't know about was the 37 (not a lie, I counted them)
boxes of books...HEAVY BOOKS. I and my back came to the conclusion that
one does not need all these books. Worse yet, she recently moved back to
the Detroit area (she commutes to Chicago) and this time she had 39 boxes.
Thus, I have become one who knows the "pain" of all those books...In your
terms, a ANTI-BIBLIOLATOR!
The BobGuy
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davel
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response 2 of 2:
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Nov 5 11:11 UTC 1992 |
Only 37? (or 39?)
Sigh. I know what you mean about moving. We've moved a few times - once,
I did it all myself. Before the last two times we did some serious weeding,
the Great Purge. The first couple of hundred weren't too hard, but after
a while it was: "I'll agree to get rid of this one, but only if you'll agree
that we don't need that one", with a sense of killing off old friends. I
still after two years (since the last move) go to the shelf to get something
& find it's not there. (I think 37 is about what we got down to.)
I don't think I'm a bibliolator, but "bibliophile" is a good word - only
as normally used it implies concern for first editions, rare books, things
like that. I'm in favor of books that don't fall apart & whose paper doesn't
decay in a way that sets off my allergies, but otherwise the content (in
terms of words) is all I care about.
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