Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Yes I Do

Whenever anybody enters my flat for the first time they invariably say, "You've got a lot of books." This is frequently followed up by the question, "Have you read them all?" Some, although mercifully, not all ask, "Why don't you get rid of them after you've read them?"

I don't think I do have a lot of books, certainly not in comparison to the number of books out there to buy. I don't even have a lot of books when you reduce the field down to just those I would want to buy. I just have more books than will comfortably fit into a single book/trophy case in the hallway. Give me another thirty years and people will be able to say with justification "you have a lot of books". Although in thirty years time they will probably be saying things like, "We have to move this pile of books to get at the body".

It must be admitted that I haven't read every book in my flat. This is because I tend to find books I want to read faster than I can actually read them. Therefore there are always a dozen or so on the to do list. I like it like this because this is my ticket to immortality. I'm determined not to die until I have read every book in my flat and I fully intend that this will never happen. Nevertheless I have read most of them and unless I absolutely detested it I have read it more than once. This also causes waves of surprise. Read a book more than once? Fancy that? Why?

When did literacy become a cause for surprise? I am always asked these questions about my books and they always astonish me. I can't imagine not having a lot of books and reading them. I am in no way a sensitive or intellectual reader; classical literature frequently irritates me and after reading the first sixty pages of Hegel's The Philosophy of History I had an overwhelm urge to phone the past and tell him to get a real job. I have read a number of "classics" but only because a friend (who incidentally gave me The Philosophy of History) insists I should try and improve my mind. I'm grateful to him because not only have I enjoyed a number of them but also because I have realised that my childhood loathing of Charles Dickens has only increased with age. I threw Nicholas Nickelby across the room cursing after struggling through a third of it. My grandmother who loved Dickens is turning in her grave as I type this. I disliked Crime and Punishment as well because the main character's redemption was too glib and undeserved. On the other hand I did like Last of the Mohicans and All Quiet on the Western Front.

Mostly what I read is history, military history and biographies plus cheap detective stories. This last I call my hangover literature. I read it when for whatever reason I don't feel up to thinking too much. Plus Biggles books. These are a carry over from my childhood and in turn a carryover from my father's childhood. The first ones I read were his, lovingly kept by him for he was a most unusual child and preserved virtually everything book he was given in near new condition until he gave it to me. Being a much more normal child I proceeded to knock them to bits which I barely noticed at the time and bitterly regret now.

I own sixty Biggles books from a grand total of about sixty eight. I fully intend to gain the remaining eight or so and then swap all those I have in paperback for hardcovers. I have grown out of reading them by now but this particular book collection is an indulgence; a connection with my childhood and by extension my fathers. The remainder of my books are simply what I buy to read and, having read them, what I keep against the day when I wish to read them again.

I don't understand why more people don't read. An individual book is relatively cheap (at the moment) even in Australia where restrictive publishing laws abound. For around fifty dollars you can step into a different world; even if that world is here and now you are stepping into someone elses version of it. Books are a way of travelling without leaving home. What's more they allow you to travel in time as well; some of my happiest moments have been spent wandering through the Byzantine Empire (a particular favourite of mine), the Habsburg Empire (ditto) and ancient Rome. But it doesn't matter what you like, there is a book about it; probably several. I have a friend whose main interest is in motorbike racing. A less literary person I don't think I know but his house is full of books on motorbikes, famous races and the biographies of riders. He is one of the few who has never appeared amazed at the number of books in my place.

Of course there are difficulties; the furnishings of my entire flat are centred around finding enough space for bookshelves. Fortunately I live in an older building that was built before idiocies like "open plan" house design became popular. Since I live on the third floor I'm also grateful that the building is brick and concrete as this minimises the danger that at some point the floor will collapse under the weight. I live in terror of the roof blowing off or the building catching fire. Collectively my books are the most expensive item in the place and I really should catalogue them in case a disaster happens and I lose them all. I have tried to set up such a catalogue several times but whenever I try I rapidly discover some book I haven't read in a while and leave off cataloguing while I read it.

Moving is an absolute bitch. I am determined to stay in my current home until I die, or can afford to hire somebody to do all the moving for me. When the flat is full I will have to convert the carspace into extra book room. This gives me a lot more room to expand and puts off the day when simple lack of space to get around forces me to move. In the mean time I read my books, buy more whenever I can justify hunger as weight loss programme and smile politely whenever a guest says, "You've got a lot of books."

Incidentally, if anybody tries to bring a copy of a Dan Brown novel into my house they will find it spontaneously combusts as it crosses the threshold.

2 comments:

  1. A terrific piece, Neil. But once again, I've written a long comment and lost it when my little finger touched the mouse! Grrrr!

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  2. I've a lot of sympathy with you on this piece, Neil. I used to have a house groaning with books, but Ayako's the eighth plague of Egypt when it comes to throwing things out and I only have to put them down for a moment only to find them in the charity box. So now, instead of keeping them, I give them away as soon as I've read them, parcelling them up to clog up the letter boxes of luckless friends (and sometimes even family - do you remember Radha getting one of the Millennium trilogy through the post from Japan?). Those books I deem special and not to be donated to Paws (the animal charity down the street - but what on earth do they want with them?) or given away, I keep in the now overflowing bookshelf next to my desk. But rather like my computer hard drive, I can sense the day coming when I can't stuff any more into it.

    The great thing is, that the internet can now bring you back almost anything you once read and would like to read again after the plague (or in your case the flood) has taken them. Books in England cost no more than £9.99 on Amazon whatever they are, and they arrive the next day. What's more, one can find old favourites - like Nigel Balchin, a 1950s writer - among their secondhand titles as easily as one can the latest stuff.

    You loved Biggles; I loved Bulldog Drummond, who's criminal protagonists (my favourite was 'Le Crapaud' who lived on Romney Marsh) at least had the decency always to be in evening dress. Either way, we share the delights of reading and having a bit of a library.

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