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Beloved Books

Reading in libraryFor those who have been fol­low­ing these notes about writ­ing, you know that I am in the process of mov­ing. That, as men­tioned, involves the shift­ing, sort­ing and weed­ing of a great num­ber of books. Hav­ing to decide—because I must—which books to keep, and which to donate to a place that could make use of them, reminds me of an inter­view I heard some years ago.

An aca­d­e­m­ic writer (alas, I do not recall the name) was describ­ing his late father’s love of books. Indeed, the old man had his own library, where he kept his books, those which he par­tic­u­lar­ly loved, and which he had read and reread. Late in this man’s life, he became blind, and was no longer able to read his beloved col­lec­tion. His son would see him, how­ev­er, in his library, putting his fin­gers to now this book, now that book. The old man knew them well enough to rec­og­nize the titles by touch. Thus, he would stand motion­less for a long while, hands on a par­tic­u­lar book, and reread it, as best he could, by memory.

6 thoughts on “Beloved Books”

  1. This is poignant… and I know it’s only books but books have been my com­rades… my friends… a place to find solace… and learn­ing for near­ly five decades. As much as I enjoy the prac­ti­cal­i­ty of my Kin­dle and ebooks there is noth­ing like hold­ing a well-loved book in my hands. In them there are traces of me through the years.

    “Thus, he would stand motion­less for a long while, hands on a par­tic­u­lar book, and reread it, as best he could, by memory.”

    Thanks, Avi.

    Reply
  2. How beau­ti­ful is that?! Love this post.
    We, too, have just been through the process of sort­ing books (for our move), so this par­tic­u­lar­ly res­onates. We end­ed up in Maine. Where goest thou, Avi?

    Reply
    • Dear Sharon: We are going up to the high moun­tains, here in Col­orado. Into the for­est at the top of Elk Val­ley, between Hahns Peak and Iron Moun­tain. I’ll post a pic­ture when we get there. No longer have your num­ber. Maybe you have mine. Love to catch up.

      Reply
  3. That is a love­ly image. My father used to give me used books—very old ones—as birth­day gifts, and because he treat­ed them as pre­cious things, I did too. It was heart­break­ing to have to give away many of his hun­dreds, maybe thou­sands, of books after he died. They were liv­ing things to him—and dear friends.

    Reply
  4. For some of us books are our beloveds. Thank you for shar­ing a love­ly sto­ry that might be any one of us.
    Gillian

    Reply

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