Yves here. I was sad when I had to divest myself of many books when I left New York City and then more when I left the US, although I still transported quite a few. However, in a contrary approach, my mother, who read a book a day most days, treated them as disposables. Admittedly her tastes ran to murder mysteries and the occasional history/historical novel. The fact that she reported was that her happiest memories from childhood were of reading in her room, eating the (according to her, far better than anything you could procure in the 21st Century) roquefort and crackers says escapism was the big allure for her. And you?
By Satyajit Das, a former banker and author of numerous technical works on derivatives and several general titles: Traders, Guns & Money: Knowns and Unknowns in the Dazzling World of Derivatives (2006 and 2010), Extreme Money: The Masters of the Universe and the Cult of Risk (2011) and A Banquet of Consequence – Reloaded (2021). ). His latest book is on ecotourism – Wild Quests: Journeys into Ecotourism and the Future for Animals (2024). Jointly published with New Indian Express Online
In the early 2000s, my partner and I were looking for an apartment. Our requirement for ‘lots of walls’ befuddled real estate brokers. We found ourselves repeatedly clarifying our need for solid brick walls not fashionable glass or flimsy partitions to support sturdy bookshelves required for our 4,000 plus volumes.
I do not come from a family of readers. Growing up in India, outside of school texts, my reading options were limited. That changed when we emigrated to Australia where I found myself the only non-white amongst 750 high school students. Making connections was difficult as most of fellow students already knew each other from primary school and few lived near me. I developed other interests. The school had a library. An even better stocked public one was within walking distance. I began a lifetime of reading unaware of Petrarch’s warning: “Books have led some to learning and others to madness, when they swallow more than they can digest.”
I began working part-time before the legally permissible age of fifteen for money which bought precious independence. It allowed me for the first time to buy rather than borrow books. That became a habit and over time I slowly built my collection. Some of the volumes on the shelves date back to the early 1970s.
Books are linked to identity and ego. For some, a library is for display rather than the reading. There are hardbacks and leather-bound editions. A bookbinder told me that the fancy leather-bound antiquarian items he restores at exorbitant prices are investments for the monied and rarely opened far less read. There are arty bookshelves and bookends costing hundreds and thousands of dollars; stone ones with satin white speckle glaze, black-and-white marble cut at a 45-degree angle, optical glass polished to create distorted reflections depending on viewing angle, cast-iron named after Kyuzo, the swordsman in Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai.
My books are cheap paperbacks. Some are second hand often discarded library copies as these institutions ‘revitalise,’ reducing holdings transforming into community centres or internet hubs for office-less digital piece workers. The shelves are utilitarian white melamine covered medium density fibreboard. The bookends are standard library powder coated metal fare. My interest is solely the content.
The habit of reading and books remains integral to my life. It has never been about entertainment or passing time but about knowledge. As an emigrant who has left a life behind, I know the only thing you have is what you know and can transport within the confines of your brain. Everything else is transient.
Books are time stamps. They speak to when you read them and what they signified then and, upon rereading which I frequently do, now. There is an unavoidable link to the period and its historical and personal events. It shapes your relations to others. The weightiest decision that my partner of four decades and I had to confront was whether we would merge our separate holdings. To this day, each title is stamped identifying it as hers or mine. As Argentine writer Carlos María Domínguez observed: “To build up a library is to create a life. It’s never just a random collection of books.”
It is possible to deconstruct books. What to read? Whether to purchase physical volumes or digital editions? How does the knowledge affect your relationship with others? Do you lend your books?
Assuming you read two books a week from the age of ten, you would get through around 7,000 books in a lifetime. Given there may be 160 million unique works, selectivity is essential.
At the beginning, I had little idea of what to read or what was worth reading. Not moving amongst readers, I lacked literary markers. Book reviews were something I knew nothing about. I read without discrimination feeding my curiosity, which might be the greatest asset for a reader. One book led to another as I followed an author, subject or a work referred to in the book that I was reading.
Some teachers provided guidance, encouraging reading beyond the curriculum. It led to translated Russians and Europeans and now extends to works from around the world. I overheard someone say that art critic Robert Hughes, then enjoying popularity with his Shock of the New, was repeating what Clement Greenberg had written. I read Greenberg’s essays. Spending days in bookshops widened my interests. I have spent days rummaging through shelves and sometimes reading entire books, occasionally drawing attention from staff concerned that I was homeless, a shoplifter or worse.
My tastes remain eclectic spanning fiction, history, philosophy, current affairs, politics, science, travel, biography, culture, art, and nature writing. Some suspect I would read the telephone directory if there was nothing else handy.
Lacking access to the theatre, I read scripts. Even though now I can watch live performances, my preference remains the written work. It avoids the disappointment of modern auteur director’s novel stagings, gender bending, tedious multi-media trickery and lack of adherence to the text. ‘Adapted from [insert name of drama]’ now passes for theatre.
While seeing a painting or sculpture is preferable, art books are sometimes the only option. Standing in line rushing past a painting propelled by a surging crowd means that you rarely get to linger and study the work. New ‘blockbuster’ exhibitions do not always live up to their billing consisting of a few notable works and other lesser items, sketches or ‘works of followers.’ Major retrospectives are frequently thousands of miles away. Artbooks with decent quality reproductions frequently allow closer study and a more comprehensive perspective on an artist.
Genre, I have come to understand, is irrelevant. You can learn more about Russia from Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Turgenev and Solzhenitsyn than from standard histories. Ryszard Kapuściński’s travel books tell you more about world politics than learned analytical works.
It is important to be true to Socrates’s dictate: “An unexamined life is not worth living.” I have tried to know everything about something and something about everything.
Perhaps because of my age, I continue to prefer bound volumes never having embraced eBooks. The tactile quality of real books remains magical.
Our books are organised by subject matter or genre, then alphabetically within each category. It creates unexpected juxtapositions: Dostoevsky and Conan Doyle; Baldwin and Bellow sandwiched between Babel and Borges; Kafka and Kawabata; Musil following Murakami; Zweig’s The World of Yesterday ends fiction. In biographies, King precedes Kissinger while Mao and Mapplethorpe find themselves next to each other. Locational accidents allow new discoveries.
The books record the effluxion of time as the fragility of some titles shows. As the collection outstrips the capacity of the shelves, disorder creeps in. Individual items sit horizontally over the vertical rows. Double rows appear creating problems of invisibility and access. It mirrors the growing confusion and chaos of the world.
For me, reading is a solitary pursuit. Machiavelli donned fine court robes discarding his working clothes before secluding himself to read. Although I keep meticulous notes on points of interest, I have never found it necessary to discuss texts with others.
Book clubs or their equivalents are about people’s need for social connections rather than the works. Some communal approaches embrace travel and adventure such as reading Herman Melville’s Moby Dick onboard a ship in a Scottish gale, Homer’s Odyssey on a Greek island, Virginia Woolf’s The Waves in St Ives and Marcel Proust in Paris. The field trips are meant to contextualise books by studying them in their original setting. In company, the works are peripheral to self-exploration by people who want to be writers.
Semiotician Roland Barthes proposed a theory of reading. In his essays Pleasure of the Text and S/Z, he distinguishes between ‘readerly’ and ‘writerly’ texts (sometimes translated as ‘readable’ and ‘writable’). The first does not challenge the reader who receives information passively. The second confronts the reader forcing them to engage actively even re-enacting the arguments of the writer. My preference has always been to argue metaphorically with the writer allowing the text to remain alive and be reinvented constantly.
There is the vexed issue of whether you lend your titles. I rarely do as it is unclear whether others will treat the items with the care expected. Erasmus and Petrarch fetishized books like holy relics believing their library to be paradise.
Recently, we contemplated downsizing in recognition of the approaching end of our lives. It would mean disposing of the bulk of our books following William Morris’ command: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” It forced me to consider a life without books. I could still read, of course, but that has become intimately connected with my collection. I enjoy walking down the shelves to find something that I am thinking of and reread it. Placing a new title in its place gives pleasure. There is the visual appeal of row upon row of titles.
Increasingly, I think about the meaning of reading and books. Walter Benjamin wrote about unpacking his library. The German only came alive through his books, not the other way around. His books were building stones defining a room into which he could disappear. I have come to agree with American journalist Christopher Morley: “When you sell a man a book, you don’t sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue – you sell him a whole new life.”
© 2025 Satyajit Das All Rights Reserved
On buying rather than borrowing books, it is useful having a big pile of well chosen books waiting to be read, in case the one you are reading turns out not quite what you hoped for. Sometimes I just want a rest from one book and switch to another for a while, sometimes the switch is permanent. This keeps the whole process stimulating.
I would like to have a large used book store within walking distance and a bin of library discards to go through every month or so.
Reading is my life but when I finish a book I am done with it and very rarely re-read. After all there are so many other books waiting to be read (although they may be on the same subjects).
And for that reason I welcome an era when the entire Project Gutenberg can be carried around in a shirt pocket thumb drive. To me it’s all about the contents, not the container.
Of course paper books are low tech and many people–particularly literary type people–aren’t comfortable with technology at all. One of my heroes is Pauline Kael who couldn’t drive and couldn’t type (her daughter typed up all her reviews for her).
But even Kael poked at Truffaut’s book worship in the movie of Farenheit 451. Modern Nazis won’t be able to burn all our books any more although they may try to hit delete. It seems to be too late for that.
Das describes the austere qualities of his library and concludes “My interest is solely the content.” But then later he comes clean –
“I enjoy walking down the shelves to find something that I am thinking of and reread it. Placing a new title in its place gives pleasure. There is the visual appeal of row upon row of titles.”
As a bibliophile myself, I have the same feelings. When I was younger, I wanted to know something about everything, too, and I did not want to be one of those people who put books on the shelf just for show, so I made a point to read what I had first before buying another book, never getting more than one or two ahead – it’s good to have a little backup as Robert Hahl mentions above. I bought mostly cheap used paperbacks at a wonderful bookstore in Seattle called Twice Sold Tales. As years went on, carting them all along through multiple moves into apartments where I smoked heavily took a toll and they began to deteriorate. Reluctant to get rid of any books that I enjoyed, I decided to gradually replace them all with nicer hardcover copies and came to appreciate the aesthetics of book collecting. Some are simply more durable, but others are works of art in themselves. I recently got an illustrated copy of the Odyssey from the Folio Society that is quite beautiful. This was to replace an older paperback copy, but it didn’t replace it – since it was from a different translator, I kept them both and have now become a collector of Odysseys. I also found a 100 year old prose translation with Pre-Raphaelite illustrations that I will likely never read cover to cover, but I do love checking out the pictures every so often.
Also, I came to realize that not only would I never be able to read all the books, but that I might not be able to find them as needed either, so in recent years I do buy lot of books I see now with the intent to read them later. Hopefully I’ll be able to retire one day so I can catch up. Yes, I’m aware that Amazon exists, but you don’t get the same pleasure ordering from them as you do foraging through a dusty old bookstore, maybe finding something unexpected and delightful hidden high in the corner of a shelf. That, and Bezos doesn’t get my $ if I can help it.
As far as lending goes, I’ve found a happy medium. I used to lend books out only to be disappointed when they came back in poor condition. Use a bookmark, people, don’t break the bindings! Now I lend out just the old paperbacks with no expectation of return. If I get them back, I’m pleasantly surprised, and if I don’t, it gives me an excuse to go out and make the rounds of used bookstores looking for an upgrade.
In my thirties bought so many copies of Savage Messiah by HS Ede to give away to friends I think I made Bezos some real money (well his ex got half so that part’s OK). Now it’s copies of The Makioka Sisters. Can’t help myself – there are some ‘must reads’ in this world.
The Folio Society books are wonderful arent they?
My godfather was a huge bibliophile and collector. Single, good job, years worth of collecting and a big library of decades of Folio books.
I have some of them after he passed away and wish I had had space for more at the time.
I’ve only read a few in the format. Reading about Scott and the Antartic expedition was pretty special. Gulliver’s Travels too.
Most recent was reading Don Quixote Folio edition, although that was years ago. The texture in the hands, the smell, the formality somehow makes the book and reading the story more special.
and to NC what a good topic to post on.
I adore reading books also they take you to many different places some known and some unknown
I live in a college town, pretty educated populace, and there are loads of ‘little library’ kiosk/altars on every street. I browse them regularly, selectively.
Picked up Eager (about natural history of Beavers- Most Excllent!) and also Rise and Fall of Adolf Hitler (timely)
I live three blocks from the library, and my wife serves on the library ‘friends’ board. “Friends” host used book sales 2x a year, I attend on ‘dregs’ sunday, $5.00 per bag day. Tend to focus on natural history, science, and western US history, but browse it all, including ‘classics’
I finally read (my teachers knw I hadn’t!) Les Mis by Hugo, Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
Scored and enjoyed Code of Hammurabi).
Reading has been a balm, away from this electronic information at speed of light/ AI mangled era we have entered.
Current titles I am enjoying:
Sun House, by David James Duncan.
A few hate it, resonates with me , and crafted like few others. Needs to be owned, not borrowed, so one can really take time.
The Practice of the Wild, by Gary Snyder. I doubt anyone does not like this one. Also is carefully and well-crafted, needs time to read and savor.
I am getting to be a geezer, trying to get rid of stuff. I generally pass books along when done- back into little libraries, back to library for future sales, or hand-off to friends.
I do pick up titles I have enjoyed, and pass them along to friends. I have three copies of “Gun Dog”, basic training techniques used by seeing-eye-dog trainers… never ever allow a puppy owner to create a dreaded ‘neighbor dog’- we are only talking week 7 to week 16 to make a good citizen! No one regrets a well-trained dog- owner or neighbor!
Also, presently hold two copies River Why? David James Duncan.
As to the ‘e’ era we endure, thank goodness for NC, the aggregated articles, the original posts, the guest posts, and the commentariat!
I mostly rely on the public library and the wonderful free little libraries that have popped up all over the place for current reading.
That said, I do have a very substantial library of books on health, hiking and climbing, travel books, Buddhist and yoga manuals, construction and home repair, and “classics”.
My son asked for something good to read. I gave him The Power and The Glory, by Graham Greene. Later he said, “As I got into it, I remembered what reading is for.”
When I was younger I mostly read fiction. Now I only read nonfiction.
I think when you are younger you want to find out about life and as time passes you are writing your own book on that.
As Yves says, reading is a very introverted activity unless someone is reading to you. It wouldn’t be surprising for generation smartphone/eye candy to do much less of it. For some of us our early days were more about great N.C, Wyeth illustrations.
Back in my commuting days I listened to books on tape and then CD. Up one shelf and down another at the local library, checking out everything available. Mostly hits, a few misses, and quite enjoyable. That also made the Frigate seat time fly by.
Yes. It is how one truly sears ideas, concepts, stories and facts into your brain and soul.
Me? After I’m done with NC there’s no time left for book books.
I struggle to let go of books. I have first year Science textbooks that are over 40 years old. Of what possible use could they be other than as an historical curiosity? I kept books from my childhood for my own children — but other than the ones that I read to them as toddlers I don’t believe that they read any of them on their own (and my daughter loves to read). I still have them — presumably for my yet unborn grandchildren?
Most of my books are in boxes. I don’t have enough shelving for them. I gave up reading fiction after two English degrees, so it’s a steady diet of history, economics and other nonfiction now. When I “lend” books I just assume that they’re not coming back. I prefer real books to the e-reader due to a lifetime habit of annotation, though I do use an e-reader for travel to avoid the bulk of real books. The only book I have which has any value as an object is my 1968 first edition copy of The Norton Facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare. Everything else is a mish-mash of hardcover and paperbacks.
I still love reading, but I find it increasingly difficult to make time for books because of my habit of following current events. I doubt that I will ever finish all of them unless I can break that habit.
I missed being taught to read at school, instead my grandmother taught me to read. I learnt to recognised the shape of the word so I read very fast but still have problems with spelling, thank God for spell checkers.
I have some 12,000 novels on my shelves and think have read some 70%, in addition I have at least 10,000 e-books I also have a significant number of technical books from mining (I was a mining engineer) to house building (I built the extension to hold the books).
Books. So Important. I suppose it doesn’t matter how you access content, but I prefer a printed book.
A great book builds knowledge and empathy and leaves the reader wiser with an overflowing heart.
I always wanted a big home library but have never had the room to create one.
Anyway, thanks for this thread. Really great.
It’s not often that one can say that a single book changed his/her life but I think I can. I was a typically stupid 22-year-old many years ago and more into sports, games, partying, and reading junk. Then one day my next-door neighbor knocked on my door and gave me a copy of “Of Human Bondage” by Somerset Maugham. I devoured that 500-page book in a day or two and for some inexplicable reason it really affected me. It instantly turned me on to good writers and good literature and I’ve never stopped reading seriously since. So, just a sampling of where this singular experience has led me:
1. Everything by Maugham of course.
2. Solzhenitsyn.
3. Emily Bronte, Dickens, and George Gissing.
4. For those who don’t mind working for their reading pleasures, “The French Revolution” by Carlyle and “Decline And Fall of the Roman Empire” by Gibbon
5. Samuel Beckett for many sardonic laughs.
6. Gore Vidal and John Kenneth Galbraith, great prose stylists both.
And many many more of course. That’s the beauty of reading good books. They often lead to something else that is equally as good. And as a bonus, four out of five doctors agree: Bedtime readers sleep better.
Yes, I agree with a couple of the commenters above. I am certainly reading less since I discovered this site! And also since world news went into empire decline hyper drive.
Apart from NC which I read on an IPad, everything else is traditional books. As lyman alpha blob mentions, it is not just about the content of the books although that is most important thing. The rows of books on the shelves near me as I write this provide their own aesthetic pleasure just to look at.
What a wonderful reflection on books and reading! I wouldn’t be the person I am if not for the public library and ‘The Bookworm’, the used book store we could walk to when I was developing my reading habit.
> Book clubs or their equivalents are about people’s need for social connections rather than the works.
While I do a tremendous amount of solitary reading, and very much see the social connection aspect of book clubs, I have instigated and maintain several clubs where we do aim at understanding the works more clearly by seeing through each other’s eyes.
Another advantage of printed books is they may be inscribed by the author or a previous owner.
I had a biographical book written by a former Olympic athlete who apparently gave a copy to a fellow passenger on an airplane flight.
It was inscribed with a message about the enjoyable in flight conversation.
One of the 2017 CA wildfires provided the “opportunity” to restock my library.
Collecting again has been enjoyable.
I love this type of article. Thank you.
I walked for an hour and a half this morning, mostly thinking about books. There are a lot of books I should reread.
I have at least 200-300 books. I have nonfiction and some books that are more towards literature. The majority are really books that are for simple entertainment and escapism. I’m just starting to read all these books. I stopped collecting sometime back because I was picking up duplicates (Da!)
I had never read any Dean Koontz but had eight in my collection. Not an author I would so much recommend, but they can be very entertaining. I’ve read about sixteen very recently now and finished/liked all but two.
Literature classes were great in college, I had forgotten how much I had enjoyed them.
Wonderful.
I’ve had Humboldt’s Gift (Saul Bellow) sitting on my shelf for years — just picked it up. A bright yellow cover with big black lettering. I can see immediately that this is indeed such a book, where I feel I have been ‘sold a new life.’
I’ve moved a few times in recent years. My 300 books (this is what is left, carefully selected), when packed, are some of the heaviest boxes — but they are the ones I ride with in the moving van, to make sure they get to the new address!