Books Are Meant to Be Shared

Guest post written and illustrated by Joe Cameron

Just wanted to add a contrarian view to any discussion of book value vs. book use. Probably will gain me the wrath of thousands and possibly even get me banned from TOP for six months (book lover that Mike is).

I am a believer that books should be used, and by "used" I mean alongside a pot of dark coffee or perhaps a bottle of cheap Merlot (heavy stainers, both). And handled a lot!

I am amused by those who keep their newly bought books sealed in the original shrink-wrap or even paper dust jackets. Reminds me of families I knew in the 'fifties who bought high-quality upholstered chairs and then sealed them with thick plastic slip covers. A Maserati, if driven long enough and hard enough (because you love cars and you love to drive) will fall apart, regardless of care and maintenance. All things decay in time, and faster the more they are used.

Shown here is a photo of three books I highly value—Walker Evans' American Photographs (1938 edition, covers separated from book), Robert Frank's The Americans (1969 edition, cover missing) and Rene Burri's Die Deutschen (1962 edition, cover separated). All were in good to excellent condition when I acquired them. But years of loving (yes, loving) viewing in my hands and friends' hands and the hands of hundreds of students in my photo classes have given them the look of age. I never thought twice about tossing these and many other books in the center of a classroom table and encouraging students to "have at it" with some magnificent and inspiring photographs—no white gloves here. Don't get me wrong, I always asked students to treat the books with care, but as I said, time and use and more than a few grubby fingers have left their marks. I have no regrets. To paraphrase an ad, books may increase in market value, but the images are priceless. And images are fundamentally meant to be shared. I might add that the photographs in these books are just as clear and accessible today as they were right off the press.

By the way, if you've never seen Rene Burri's Die Deutschen, I would suggest you try to get access to a copy. Its format is nearly identical to The Americans and, in my opinion, much of its photography is the equal of Frank's book. And if you were my neighbor, I'd gladly share it with you over a six pack and a plate of nachos.

Joe

Originally published in 2009. There is much to recommend Joe's stance on this matter. I say that as one of the students in front of whom these very books were thrown on a table once upon a time—Joe was one of my professors at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. in the 1980s. Even so, I will not be throwing my nearly pristine original copy of The Decisive Moment at a school of picture-hungry students any time soon! It's not for looking at. That's why I keep the reprint shelved right next to it.  :-)  —Mike

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Keith: "I sometimes scratch my head pondering why we place such preciousness on objects made to be used. There is a big difference between using something to be enjoyed with care, abusing it, or placing it on a pedestal and not using it at all. I recall a conversation with a local automobile collector in the late 1990s who was trying to negotiate the purchase of a fully optioned 'Bandit Edition' Trans-Am. The original owner had purchased it new around 1978, had the dealership haul it to his house, and rolled it off the truck into his garage. The car still had three miles on it after 20 years sitting in that spot. Were I a person of excessive means, I'd probably be the bane of the automotive collector world by buying a 1957 Testarossa with 1,200 miles at Pebble Beach, then driving it all the way home...to North Carolina. I wouldn't abuse it, but we would both need a good washing when we got home."

Mike replies: I have a very broad view of all this. I don't think anyone can really tell anyone else how to use their possessions. If someone wants to keep a car pristine for years, that's fine with me; if they want to daily-drive something someone else considers too precious to touch, that's fine with me too.

I do know that several times when I've bought old cameras meaning to use them, I'll pass on really pristine examples and find something that already has a little wear on it. That's just consideration for others. I know there are people out there who put a high value on perfect condition, so why rain on their parade? Let the perfect items go to them. To purposely seek out something someone else might value for its untouched quality and deliberately "ruin" it in their view seems somehow impolite to me. But just impolite, nothing more dire than that.

I know that if you took Joe's three books in perfect condition today and proceeded to ruin them with rough use, I would very much disapprove of that. They would be highly prized as survivors if they were in new condition now, and there are lots of other ways to look at the pictures. Why ruin historical artifacts wantonly? But they were just books when Joe started using them and I have no problem with his decision about what he wanted to do with them. In fact, some people honor and treasure such honest wear, preferring old things that have "patina" and "wear their scars proudly" to those that are pristine.

Honest wear-and-tear

Here's a dilemma for you. I know a guy who was friends with the late artist Keith Haring, and Keith decorated a camera for him (I think it was a Pentax K1000). The owner kept using the camera and eventually all the decorations wore off. And of course Keith himself died in 1990. The camera would definitely be worth something now, both in the sense of monetary value and as an original artwork by Keith that others might want to experience and appreciate. 

Would you have kept using that camera just because "cameras are meant to be used," or would you have tried to preserve the artwork on it? 

Comments

[Bob Keefer]

"It's not for looking at."

Then, honestly, what's it for?

["Honoring." That's the first word that came to mind when I read your question. —Mike.]

[David Dyer-Bennet]

Wear and tear is an inevitable part of loving and using a book. However, I've developed the skill to read a 50-year-old paperback dozens of times without the binding falling off; when I see a hardcover with the binding failing, I figure it was either a defective copy, or has been terribly abused. I don't like people who abuse books. (So, maybe that counts as a piece of the wrath you're expecting?)

I do have multiple copies of most of my favorite books; I read ebooks by preference, then mass-market paperbacks, then whatever I have. But when I have say the 1950s first-edition hardcover of something, or a modern super-fancy edition, I've generally read that copy at least once -- very carefully.

[KeithB]

CS Lewis said that the only books in your library in heaven will be those that people borrowed and never returned. Also any stains (from the merlot?) and fingerprints will be illuminated in gold like a medieval manuscript.

[Tom Passin]

Speaking as a book lover and an ex-hobbyist bookbinder, there is a right way to open new hard-cover (sewn) books. It will help prevent cracking of the spine, and keep the book opening smoothly through its life.

Start with the new book closed, and the back facing down on a table. Open (say) the rear cover gently to the table top. Then separate a bundle of pages, less than a signature for a really nice book. Run a finger or two down the gutter gently to open them down to the rear cover.

Repeat at the front of the book. Then keep opening small bunches of pages the same way, alternating rear and front of the book, until all the pages have been handled. Now you are ready to read or browse through the book.

This won't work well if you have a pseudo-hard cover book, one that has been perfect bound rather than sewn. More and more books are like that, sad to say.

[Scott Abbey]

I’m in favor of using (not abusing) things. I have 95k miles on my 2007 Carrera, much of it from commuting in the NYC area. I have a collection of pretty nice guitars, which I’m happy to have small grandchildren handle (carefully and with supervision). To me, there’s no point having nice things just to own them - the joy comes from using them, and sometimes wearing them out.

[Richard Parkin]

I would find it very, very difficult to scribble in a book, maybe impossible, I don’t think I ever have. My schooldays were spent in England during and after after WW2. I read a lot but nearly all the books were from public libraries so there was an expectation that you would leave them as you found them. When I bought books it would have been with money received on my birthday or Christmas, so twice a year, so whether out of habit or ‘honouring’ them I didn’t scribble. I guess I’m saying there’s no simple rule for everyone — is there ever?

[Andrea B]

Would you have kept using that camera just because "cameras are meant to be used," or would you have tried to preserve the artwork on it?

I think of the joy that Pentax K1000 owner must have experienced during those years of using his Haring-flowered camera. Some art must be ephemeral the more to appreciate what art we do preserve.

[Andrew Molitor]

Those books can all be repaired, or rebuilt into something new and more beautiful, without too much effort. All around!

[Arg]

What is the right way to honour a book?

[dragos b]

Wonderful! Thank you!

[Geoff Wittig]

I used to think that normal care would prevent significant damage to treasured books. Then reality got in the way. One of my most-loved books is Clyde Aspevig's 2009 monograph of his brilliant landscape paintings, out of print since and now north of $800 used. I tried to be kind to it, really I did. But the dust jacket is now tattered and kept separately to avoid complete destruction. The edges are bumped and a bit worn, and there are some unfortunate coffee stains from a mishap circa 2015. And a sad collection of deodorant flecks decorates the cover from its time on the floor next to my bed. For all that, a fine landscape painter I know was delighted with the temporary loan of the book recently. I'm glad it's well loved.

[Jerome]

Personally I think that for something to be used, it can’t be precious. I decided I don’t want to own items that I can’t replace or repair should they be damaged.

I learnt it the hard way when I bought a used Leica. To me it was irreplaceable and I barely dared using it. When I finally brought it with me, the strap got caught somewhere, and the Leica crashed on the floor. Couldn’t afford to repair it for another 6 months. It came back working again, but totally dented and scratched.

After that, the camera was truly mine, and I used it heavily for a decade until I got a digital camera.

Same for books. No valuable, pristine books for me. If I can’t read them because I don’t dare touching them, they’re of no use to me.

[Roger Bradbury]

I met a man on Monday night who had bought a BSA motorcycle, a 1935 B2. The machine shows its age; it's rusty, the paint is chipped, the tank is dented and was repainted (not very well) at some point.

He isn't going to restore it. Because if he did, the bike's 83 years of history would be wiped away forever. He is going to get the magneto overhauled, and he is going to ride it.

Motorcycles are made to be ridden, not looked at. Well, it's okay to sit and look at your own bike, sitting there with a pint or a mug of tea at your destination after a great ride, or at home after you've been working on it in the evening.

[Patrick Dodds]

I think unless you can treat a camera badly from time to time (get it muddy, dusty, dirty, damp, cold, chucked in a bag in a hurry, perhaps even dropped in the heat of a moment), then you aren't using it properly. Ish.

[Geno]

I appreciate used books, especially sourced from a library - they possess a certain "je ne sais quoi" quality - almost soulful, if you will. However, I may be exhibiting a form of parapraxis due to my aging mind and body . . .