I recently read Packing My Library: An Elegy and Ten Digressions by Alberto Manguel.
However, I was left with two burning questions after finishing the book: where did his library end up, and how large was the collection that he packed up?
Wikipedia (not Packing My Library) gave me the answers.
Alberto Manguel donated his 40,000-book collection to the Center for Research in the History of Reading, in Lisbon, Portugal.
Alberto Manguel is a novelist, translator, editor, reviewer, and library director.
Over his life, he’s lived in at least eight countries—Argentina, Canada, Israel, France, England, Tahiti, Mexico and the United States (New York City).
I wonder how many times he’s packed up his books, and how long some sections of his collection have been in storage?
I especially enjoyed the ten digressions in Packing My Library.
One digression is about the Library of Alexandria, which some historians say was consumed in a fire started by Julius Caesar’s troops in 48 B.C.
Manguel believes, however, that only the overflow of books (near the port), was actually set aflame.
He considers the great library’s actual fate to be a mystery.
The digression mentions some of the great plays that were lost forever with the destruction of the Library of Alexandria—72 by Euripides, between 63-73 by Aeschylus, and 116 by Sophocles.
One of our brother-in-law’s parents were both librarians, and their joint collection (all left to him after his parents died), was once bigger than ours.
It was never close to 40,000 either.
I think I understand why Mr. Manguel packed up all his books.
He was in his early 70’s when, for various reasons, he had to give up the large space (in France) which had held his spectacular collection.
He needed to make sure that his books had a good home—a home that he could visit, on occasion—but not one that he owned, or paid rent on.
(We only have so many walls, and we need room for new books.)
I go through each shelf and follow her advice—deciding if each book “brings me joy.”
Some books bring so much joy, that they’re added to the stack near my bed.
Others don’t, so I place them in a box to be donated.
(I find that I miss certain books years after I’ve donated them.)
Another book on the subject of possessions—and having enough space for them—is Margareta Magnusson’s The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter.
One point in Magnusson’s book is: “Someone will have to clean up after you.
Whoever it may be will find it a burden.”
Her book made me worry about what would happen to our treasured book collections, if my husband and I died together, not separately.
What would our families do with our valued books?
(None love books quite as much as we do.)
Would our carefully-selected books be donated to a library?
Would they be sold?
Would lovely older editions be tossed in an alley, and only the newer books given good homes?
According to a March 2023 Gallup poll, Americans say that they read less than 13 books a year—the smallest number since 1990.*
Reading among subgroups—like the college-educated—is going down more rapidly.
A few famous people (like Bill Gates) say they read over 50 books a year.
(That’s a number my husband and I are comfortable with.)
However, other well-known people (like Kanye West and Donald Trump), brag that they don’t enjoy books, and have never read for personal pleasure.
My husband and I both realize that to be a lover of books—to the extent of owning a lot of them, or carrying them about—is to be an “oddball.”
The purchaser of our condo, a few years back, refused to buy that apartment unless we first removed the built-in book shelves.
(We were deluded enough to believe that book shelves were a “selling point.”)
Recently, when my husband and I brought books and newspapers to a hospital ER waiting room, a young man warily asked us (as if he was dealing with crazy people) if we really planned to read “all that stuff.”
Yes, we did!
A favorite The Twilight Zone episode deals with a book worm—Time Enough at Last (season one, episode 8).
This episode features Henry Bemis (Burgess Meredith) as a bank teller who “lives to read,” and cares little for human companionship.
(According to the IMDb trivia for this 1959 episode, of the 92 episodes that creator Rod Serling wrote, this episode was Mr. Serling’s personal favorite.)
One of the plot points in Time Enough at Last is that Mrs. Bemis (Jacqueline deWit) dislikes her husband’s love of books, and has actually destroyed some of them.
This lack of harmony is not the case in our family.
Both of us have loved libraries and reading since early childhood, and we are in complete agreement about “book love.”
We routinely point out interesting paragraphs to each other, and read them aloud.
We’re fans of book stores, catalogs, sales and festivals.
My husband is something of an extrovert, and I’m very much an introvert.
Although Henry Bemis was an introvert, I’m sure that’s not a factor in loving books and reading.
For a while—after COVID hit, in 2020—I found it hard to pick up a book.
This change in my behavior made me realize that I was in an emotional crisis.
After a few months, I was back to reading every day again, and I knew that all would be well.
Reading books is one of the things that makes life worth living.
* According to researchers at the Australian National University, Estonians own an average of 128 books per household, with a third of respondents owning 350 books, or more. The average American household only owns about 29 books.
