Adopt A Book

Over time I developed an aversion to new books. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this antipathy. I have seen others, in silence, move through the book-stores with a certain contempt reflected in their eyes, a certain hostility, even when handling a volume just out of the press.

The shiny new books have no place in my library. I keep them hidden so that they become more opaque, that dull, tired temperament of old books. If I need to read them, for questions that are irrelevant, I always do it with displeasure.

I am not referring here to first editions. That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about those books that nobody reads, books that spend years sleeping on used tables, abandoned books, orphans.

Old books by renowned authors, which booksellers often place on a separate table, with the ostentatious title of “best sellers,” are generally quickly adopted, even in poor condition, harassed by unscrupulous owners. These books don’t interest me too much either. They are still desired.

I like those books that someone got rid of in a move; books of someone who has died, perhaps, discarded by relatives worried about recovering some space in the decease’s house.

These unwanted books are the ones that really appeal to me. I like them because, despite their dire state, they still have a wild spirit. They are homeless books, books that meet at a balance table and share that silent destiny for years; books that still crave the touch, the touch of a reader, while turning inexorably yellow.

These books have a privileged place in my library, until they eventually go their way. They have a wandering, indomitable spirit that we could never find in new books; that somehow they seem tamed, tame, perhaps because they do not have a history behind, a travelled path.

Source: espejo gotico