A Passion for Books (Paperback)

Ray Bradbury, in his foreword, helps to explain this passion by saying that the women in his life have all been librarians, English teachers, or booksellers. If they couldn't speak pidgin Tolstoy, articulate Henry James, or give him directions to Usher and ox, it was no go.

Including contributions from current and previous writers who have explained their passions for books, this collection is witty and intelligent, and perhaps a bit over-the-top for those who do not share a similar passion.

Umberto Eco explains both how to organise a public library, and how to justify a private one. On the former, suggestions such as exceeding complex call numbers, mysterious locations of books and periodicals, and the attitude of librarians to patrons (The librarian must consider the reader an enemy, a waster of time (otherwise he or she would be at work), and a potential thief) all seem to have been taken on board by many of the libraries I have visited (especially European ones, where one must often have a background check, new tailoring, and credit-worthiness before even being allowed in the door, and then must pass a two-day oral examination before being permitted in the stacks). These would seem enough in themselves to justify a private library, but Eco has yet a further purpose. A private library ensures that one can discern in visitors if they have a sufficient feel and appreciation of books.

What a lot of books! Have you read them all?

I have been confronted with the same question, as my home (which actually has a room designated 'the library', with approximately 4000 books in it, that are in addition to the 1000 or so books in the living room, the 500 each in my bedroom and spare room, and the 100 or so scattered about the rest of the house). Alas, not all books are for reading.

However, one of the sticky issues of having a private library becomes lending privileges. Christopher Morley wrote a wonderful thanksgiving to one of his returned books -- I give hearty and humble thanks for the safe return of this book, which having endured the perils of my friend's bookcase and the bookcases of my friend's friends, now returns to me in reasonably good condition. ... When I loaned this book, I deemed it as lost; I was resigned to the business of the long parting; I never thought to look upon its pages again. But now that my book has come back to me, I rejoice and am exceeding glad! Bring hither the fatted morocco and let us rebind the volume and set it on the shelf of honour, for this my book was lent and is returned again. Presently, therefore, I may return some of the books I myself have borrowed.

Shakespeare might have been talking about books in his advice of Polonius -- neither a borrower nor a lender be. Ah, there's the rub.

I had the good fortune during my university days of lodging in professors' homes, surrounded by already-assembled private libraries of high academic distinction. These were often supplemented by the courtesy copies of books advanced by publishers to entice adoption for classroom purposes. One such book came once, and I saw it on the table, and I asked to borrow it.

'Just a moment,' my friend the professor said. He took a pen and inscribed his name inside the cover. 'There,' he said, handing the volume to me. 'Years from now, when you take this book from your shelf, you'll be reminded where you got it.'

Each time I see it on my shelf (now 20 years later) I am reminded of this.

Rabinowitz and Kaplan include such treasures as an Ode by Petrarch, entitled My Friends, which takes some careful reading to tell that it is an ode to books, and not to people. The editors include various top-ten lists (Norman Mailer's ten favourite American novels, W. Somerset Maugham's ten greatest novels -- these two lists share one book in common, namely Herman Melville's Moby Dick) and various top-one hundred lists. Various essays on the history of book writing and book production are included to give a sense of substance to the mystery that is the love of books.

For any bibliophile, this book is a necessity.

I found this book in my local used bookshop, in the new arrivals section. The paperback cover is a bit curled where someone opened it and left it. Someone marked the lists of great books, indicating which they had read, or perhaps which they hadn't yet read. I didn't mind the marks, in fact I enjoyed comparing notes with this unknown reader.

In addition to the lists and the cartoons, and the bibliobibliography (not a misprint), I enjoyed many of the articles and essays, especially the more recent ones. A favorite was Harold Rabinowitz's (one of the editors) story of the day his friend didn't win the Pulitzer Prize.

I agree with another reviewer who wished that a few women had been included among the contributors here, there is an atmosphere of gentlemen's club here. And I'm afraid I really don't understand the compulsion to collect books. I love to read, but once I've read a book, out it goes. Of course, there are a few exceptions: if I am quite sure I'll want to read it again (unfortunately, most of those are library books), or if I want it for more-than-occasional reference. Most books are not hard to find and I don't see any reason to keep a book for years on the offchance I'll read it again. If I do decide to reread it, I can easily find a copy.

With that in mind, having enjoyed A Passion for Books, I will take it back to the used bookshop and trade it in for credit.