In Praise of Old Books

I was just thinking the other day how much I love old books. How at the library, I will choose the old binding over the new one. How I even like to discard the colorful dust jackets of new books so that they look older on my shelf.
But, what I really like is to go to an old book shop and pick up an old book. I love the musty smell and the uneven pages at the edge. Its a bit like an archaeological dig. You open the cover, - ah, the cover; dented, scratched, stained, and worn. On the fly leaves and throughout there often are notes or marks or underlinings like blazes on trees on a hiking trail that say, "Stop here" or "This is really important" or "This really affected me".
Sometimes there is the name of the previous owner who may have been dead for a hundred years. Sometimes I like to imagine who bought this book new and under what circumstances. Was it a gift? Was it on a whim? Was it treasured for years or months before there was finally enough money to purchase it?
Sometime I like to buy an old book that I know nothing about- not a classic - those are reprinted endlessly in new additions. I mean, old books long out of print for some reason. Perhaps it fell out of style or maybe it wasn't considered that good to begin with. When you buy a book like this, you take a chance, like while traveling, eating at a local diner instead of the fast-food chain restaurant. Sure, you might get a bad one, but the atmosphere is unique, the menu varied, and often really good or it wouldn't still be there. An old book can be like that. You might not get very far before you realize why its no longer in print. Or, like a miner, you may have uncovered a whole new vein of literature that leads to more works by that author or related topics that could take years to mine. These can lead to one to new and wonderful tunnels and chambers and passages that may add new facets to your world view.
Old books are hard work. The vocabulary is challenging, the syntax archaic, the metaphors unfamiliar - although I bet you will come across at least one that has to do with water. But I have found that even the effort here rewards me with a smile at an unusual or quaint turn of phrase. The hard work, the having to read a paragraph once again, just adds to the experience and reminds me that much that is worthwhile takes effort.
Another thing: linger over the author's name. Who was he? There may be an entire website of devotees to him that you never realized. Was this the first or the last of a long series of works that represents a lifetime of labor? Or, was this his only child - his only addition to the stock of
Western literature and knowledge, long-forgotten but still added to the aggregate of our civilization. This is the part where "other works by..." comes in. Some time here will reveal the narrowness or breadth of his interests and expertise.
And, don't read the first chapter before looking over the other clues: the dedication (who was D.F.W.?), the acknowledgments (his favorite people), the preface and introduction (what he really wants you to learn from the book) and where he wrote it and when (Providence, 1877). I even think its pretty cool that at the very end they sometimes take the trouble to tell you what kind of font it was printed in. Maybe its still on the little drop-down menu on Word and you can share a font with someone long-gone. Even the table of contents and index can yield some clues though by now most of the nuggets have been found.
Now its time to get at the heart (or mind) of the matter. For now its time to speak his words into your mind; to give the sounds, that have lay dormant for decades, new life. This person from whatever time or place is revived and in a sense you can begin the conversation anew. I'm sure that he never tires of explaining himself one more time. You can even argue or agree in the margins. Imagine how interesting a book becomes as several readers leave their comments for the next - a conversation that stretches over time and makes every volume unique. I guess John Adams filled his books with marginal notes and discussions that have been a gold mine for scholars. I mark up new books because someday they will be old and I want to be the one who starts the conversation - its my priviledge since I bought it first. What my children someday will learn about me - but first they will have to read my books - page by page, as they will never know where a revealing comment might pop up. And, I haven't even mentioned The Greatest Old Book - an old Bible: a personal record of the joys and tests of a pilgrimmage of faith in the smudges, underlinings, dates, and notes on the pages.
Its not hard to love new books. They are colorful and exciting and desired for their content ahead of time. But, an old, musty volume is a chest filled with the minds and hearts and experiences of authors long-gone and ideas long-forgotten just waiting to be revived to interact with new minds in whatever time.