Sometimes
books get so worn and damaged that they no longer serve any purpose. They can’t
be re-sold; they can no longer be read. Sometimes they just lose their
pertinence, like an old encyclopaedia – time and research stand still for
no-one. I see books like this all the time and, there’s no way that I can buy
them for re-sale at the store – they’ve been read into the ground.
What
to do with them? Tragic as I find it, sometimes books need to go to the recycling
facility and be returned to the great cycle of literary proliferation. It’s sad,
but it’s better than burning or burying them. My job, as I see it, is to keep
books in circulation for as long as possible, to stave off the inevitable.
Unfortunately,
there is a sector of the community out there, who would rather gather together
old books and do unspeakable, God-awful things to them. This involves (but is
certainly not limited to) folding them into lanterns; lacquering them into
stacks to use as occasional tables and doorstops; and tearing off covers and
spines to convert into notebooks and bookmarks (imagine if someone tore off a
person’s arm and then shoved it down your jumper to remind you where you were
going; it’s that sort of hideous).
Some
people only buy books based on what they look like. The books are not to be
read; they are not to be opened at all. They are colour co-ordinated to match
furnishings in overly-decorated interiors. It makes you wonder why these people
install bookshelves at all. I once met someone who stacked their bookshelves
with books spine inwards so that the
appearance of all the books’ fore-edges could create an “interesting
effect”. This would not seem to be such a bad thing – after all, the books are
not being destroyed – but they only remain undamaged until the interior
decorator decides to alter the appearance of their decor. Then all the books go
to the tip. There’s a movement locally amongst Real Estate agents (who eat
their own young, incidentally) to encourage their tenants to not bring books to
their rental premises at all, much less decorate with them, as they create an
“eyesore”. WTF?
Worst
of all, are those people who buy books to cut up for the purpose of
scrapbooking or découpage. This is where you slice all of the pretty pictures
out of perfectly good books and either paste them into another book, or lacquer
them onto boxes, or items of furniture, to create objects of kitsch. I have had
plenty of discussions with such people – who will make a beeline to your art
section with murder on their minds – and I stringently derail all their
efforts, by denying them access to anything that will suit their present bloody
project. I endeavour not to tell them to drag their miserable carcases out of
my shop and never darken my door again, because that way lies an absence of
customers from the wider community, but I’ve come close. Pretty damned close
actually.
It
wouldn’t be so bad if they just bought books and left without telling what
sacrilege was fermenting in their feckless little brains; but no, they take
great delight in explaining what it is they’re about to do with this rare,
limited edition printing of the world’s best examples of Japanese painted
screens; or a deluxe Taschen edition of 60’s Pop Art; or an exquisite unblemished
copy of Pixie O’Harris’s Sea Greenie and
Pearl Pinkie. It’s like they think they’re doing something wonderful and
fully expect you to be pleased for them.
I
tell you, burning ain’t good enough.
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