Bookish Discussion #2 // Bookish Aesthetics

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In case you missed my first Bookish Discussion, let me just catch you up a little. On Wednesday, I referenced a video (which you can find here), that summed up of some attitudes in the bookish community that have been bothering me. Now, I do recommend that you watch the video to get both sides of the argument, because I don’t believe this BookTuber shouldn’t have said what she said or that she is dumb or anything like that. Of all the BookTubers who shared similar sentiments, hers is the politest, most intelligent representative. But the main point I want to address here, that was referenced in her video more nicely than it was in most other places, is the idea that BookTubers and book bloggers who are concerned with the aesthetics of their books are too looks-oriented. 

So, first of all, let’s talk about used books. Plenty of readers prefer used books over new books because they have character and because they have more story to them than their newer counterparts. They’ve been read, reread, annotated, dog-eared, stained, loved. To many readers, the lives these books experienced before reaching their hands is just as fascinating as the books themselves, and it makes those books treasures. They are valuable, like aged cheese. (Blogging rule #127: When in doubt, include a comparison to food.) Not only that, but used books are often cheaper. 

And you know what? I see nothing wrong with enjoying or even preferring secondhand books. If those bring you loads of happiness, then that is wonderful. But while I don’t hate used books, they don’t bring me loads of happiness, and there’s nothing wrong with that, either. 

When I was younger, I tried so hard to get into the mindset that it was foolish to pay more money for new books when you could simply buy used. After all, I didn’t have much money to work with in the first place. I tried to convince myself that it was stupid to care so much about whether or not the spine of a book was cracked or if the cover got creased. I got angry at myself for crying when I lent out my books only to have them come back worse for the wear—dirty, ratty, water-damaged—and I told myself it was silly to contemplate replacing them with my hard-earned money just so I could have new-looking copies again. I told myself it was selfish not to want to lend them out just because I didn’t like them getting damaged, and I told myself it wasn’t fair to ask people to be super careful with them. It wasn’t fair to get upset when they didn’t treat them as well as I did. I thought there was something wrong with me because damaged books took away the joy of reading. 

And then, after a few years, it hit me. That is my personality type. I was wired to keep a neat, orderly collection—to crave cleanness and newness. I was wired to love the beauty of a pristine book. I wasn’t wired to love well-worn paperbacks, and it wasn’t fair for people to ask me to change my own personal preferences simply because they didn’t understand or share them. Just because my books are in perfect condition, doesn’t make them any less loved. In fact, when I love a story, I show my respect and affection for it by taking care of the book. Just because I love my books differently than others doesn’t make my methods any less legitimate. 

So let’s break down the way my brain works, starting at the superficial and going deeper. 

To me, new books just look so much better. I get a rush of happiness when I see all the shiny, new books while shopping in Barnes & Noble, and I like getting that same rush from seeing my Barnes & Noble-esque bookshelves. 

I have found that the more effort I put into keeping the shelves in my room aesthetically pleasing, the more my room feels like a haven. Some people visit museums or art collections in order to center themselves and reduce tension. Well, my books are my own private art collection, and I treat them accordingly. Where some people might hang paintings, I display the books I find particularly attractive. They are my decorations, and to assume that the inside of a book is the only form of art involved is to miss the art of the exterior. I handle my books carefully, to make sure that the art I love doesn’t get destroyed or defaced. After all, you wouldn’t shove your favorite painting into your backpack, or touch it with greasy fingers, or fold it down the middle (at least, I hope you wouldn’t). I value books like I would value a Van Gogh, and so I treat them accordingly. And I bet it’s similar for other bookworms who prefer keeping their books in good condition. (However, if your preferred art form is a battered book, than that is your prerogative, and we can live in peace, provided we respect each other’s personal styles.) 

Another, very personal reason for keeping my books in good condition is this: A lot of traumatic things happened to me when I was a child, and often books were the only safe place my younger self could find. Sometimes the only control I had in my life was the way I treated my books. I might not have been able to prevent myself from losing my home, friends, and possessions twice, I might not have been able to keep my church body from ripping apart, and I might not have been able to stop all the other bad stuff from happening to me, but I could at least make sure bad stuff didn’t happen to my books. To this day, books are still my haven, and I like to keep my safe place untarnished. If you have not experienced a difficult childhood and needed a safe place of small control like that, I don’t fault you for not understanding where I’m coming from. But lack of comprehension doesn’t make it okay to judge. 

My last major reason for taking good care of my books is more on the practical side. Let’s face it, books cost money (I know, I was shocked to learn that, too). There are so many books out there that I would love to buy, but I only have so much money to spend on them. I would rather not burn through cash replacing books I’ve worn out. Instead, I would rather make sure the copies I have last for a good long while so I can focus on growing my personal library. 

In the end, it all boils down to individual preference, and neither choice of style is wrong. It’s not wrong to like pretty things, and it’s not wrong to not care as much about pretty things. Granted, yes, some people take it too far and focus so much on the exterior of their books that they forget why books are valuable in the first place. But I would recommend withholding judgment until you truly know a person, or you run the danger of focusing too much on that person’s exterior (their outward behavior) and too little on their heart. And wouldn’t it be nice if we could just all respect and appreciate each other for our differences, even if we don’t understand life on the others side of the fence? 

What about you, my little coffee beans? Are you cool with lending out your books? Have you had any bad experiences from lending out books in the past? Do you prefer used books or new? Are you extra careful with your papery darlings, or do you not mind if they get roughed up a little?