Books

Tonight on the website brainpickings.org I came across a quote by Kurt Vonnegut: "Don't give up on books. They feel so good - their friendly heft. The sweet reluctance of their pages when you turn them with your sensitive fingertips. A large part of our brains is devoted to deciding whether what our hands are touching is good or bad for us. Any brain worth a nickel knows books are good for us."

How lovely - the idea that books are good for us, not just reading or studying books, but perhaps the mere presence and company of books is beneficial to our health and wellness (physical, mental, and emotional). I have an ebook device, and I love the convenience of it; I can have numerous books ready at any time and I can highlight and annotate, though those functions are a little clunky and almost more trouble than they're worth. But there is something so special, maybe a little holy, about a book. It's like you're holding a part of the author's soul, or brain. Books should be both devoured and savored, revered and personalized. The actual physical weight is a testament to someone's vision and work. Annotating or marking meaningful passages makes the reading more like a two-way conversation. It completes the communication cycle started by the author: they say something, we hear and process, then say something back. Often in the readying and studying the text or the author's life or other works we can find answers and responses to the things we said back to the text. And when we pick up the next thing the writer has done, the whole thing happens over again, and we gain deeper insight into something and someone we thought we knew and understood.

We have books all over our house. Nine bookcases and stacks of books on tables, under chairs, in closets, on the fireplace, around the TV in the TV cabinet, in the bathrooms, and beside beds encompass a treasure of eclectic tastes and a chart of changes over time. The what-to-expect book we got when our first child was born. The first personal property books of each of our boys. The college textbooks that cost a fortune and would have gotten just a fraction of the cost if we'd sold them back to the bookstore. Old favorites that are falling apart. Early editions. And new arrivals who are patiently waiting for summer to come so we can read them. They're a part of our home, and a function of our family. We have friends and family members who don't have a single visible bookcase or tasteful stack of books on a coffee table or end table. It's so depressing to go to their houses. There's nothing to tell about who those people are, or what they like, or what they value. I embrace the book-cluttered house we have. It feels safe. It feels like home.