My earliest memories contain books; if not central to the memories, they are adjacent to or on the periphery of them. My grandmother was an avid and studious reader, a librarian, and a teacher by trade. There were always piles of books on her desk at home, most from one library or another. On rare occasions, she would bring a special book home from work that needed extra care in its repair and return to service. She was not, to speak, a collector of books, nor did she keep many at home. Her preservation techniques were distinctly focused on returning books to library service, not the fastidious preservation of a curator or collector. Books did not become a key element of my memories of my mother until later in her life, when she began to accumulate books of interest. At this time in her life, she was wheelchair-bound, and library trips could be difficult. This was likely a factor in her choice to buy rather than borrow. Though she was not as curious in a broad sense as my grandmother, she did find herself going down rabbit holes on occasion. One could say, I come by my afflictions honestly.
Books can bring many things to those who appreciate them. For most, they provide a sense of escapism in one form or another. For many, it is to inform or educate. For others, it is to reinforce their worldview. Others seek wisdom and inspiration in the writings of great thinkers. It is likely, dear reader, that you find some comfort in each of these from time to time. A rather small and obsessed group finds the medium itself to be the most fascinating collection of trades and practices. It is in this small group that I find my people. Though I am at the earliest stages of my serious, dare I say professional, bibliographic journey, I find myself counting gatherings and looking for chains, formulating how the text block was constructed, and how it was cased. Who published this volume? Who printed it? What edition and pressing? What are its points?
The making of books has always been of great interest. From the laying of paper and sizing, pressing it to wood and metal, transferring pigment, folding and stitching the gatherings into a text block. Treatment of the text block, cut or not, opened or not, gilded or painted edges, how will it be cased, and with what materials? All decisions that will affect the owner’s relationship with the volume, on their shelf, in their hand, and in their hearts. That I would collect and deal in these jewels of humanity was a foregone conclusion, as is the need to have a closer, more intimate relationship with the form; to bring new volumes to life, yes, but also to preserve and protect those already formed.
Books and history, history and books. The path is broad and open. Where it leads is over the horizon, yet down the path I go, books in hand.