Anyone who loves reading probably has at least one special edition of a book- whether it’s a limited edition, whether it’s signed, whether it’s a more expensive copy with an elaborate cover. I know I’ve got a few of those myself. And that’s what I sometimes struggle with.
You see, the special editions I own- whether signed, anniversary copies, or simply the ones with lavish covers- mostly just sit on a shelf. The thought of reading them and subsequently ruining them- spilling a drink on them, getting the cover scratched up in my bag, god forbid tearing a page- makes me extremely uneasy, and as a result I don’t read them. I have a signed Neil Gaiman book- The Ocean at the End of the Lane- that I adored, but have only read once. I fully intend to buy a second copy- a paperback- that can be read and beaten up and left lying around, but the signed copy has lived happily on a shelf in my bedroom for the past seven years.
I know I’m not the only one who shares these- perhaps insane- reservations. When I attended Capital Crime in London last September, a few people I spoke with said they do much the same with their signed books. They are to be read at home, kept on the shelf for much of the time, and sometimes a second copy will be bought to spare the signed copy from being read at all. I do a very similar thing even with ‘special editions’ that aren’t all that special. I have a rather lovely copy of J.M Barrie’s Peter Pan and Wendy that has yet to be read simply because the cover is so beautiful I’m loathe to get even the faintest mark on the book.
And yet, there’s something special about special editions- it’s why they’re called special editions, after all. That’s the thing I struggle with; I hate the idea of books not being read, but at the same time I have this constant worry that special edition books must be kept in Extremely Good Condition, otherwise I should have just bought a regular copy of the book. Yet I’ve always taken good care of my books, so I’m not entirely sure why I have such an insistence that my special editions cannot be touched. Besides sometimes writing my name in books as a child, I don’t write in them. I don’t dog-ear the pages. The few books that have been damaged have been damaged accidentally. My copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets fell foul of my water bottle on the way to school some years ago, and the pages are still a little wavy. My copy of Order of the Phoenix- which, admittedly, has been missing since we moved seven years ago and is likely in a box somewhere in the garage- had pages sellotaped in because I fell asleep reading it and pulled the pages out while asleep on the book. Most recently, I knocked a drink over on my desk and managed to douse a good few books. While the majority escaped unharmed, my copy of Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to The X Files has a dust cover that’s frustratingly wavy. But beyond those three accidents with those three books, I struggle to name any book that’s not been kept in a reasonably good condition.
With special editions, though, it feels like I can’t risk even a small accident. Keeping them out of the way and not reading them seems like a great idea when it comes to preserving them, but a less good idea when you realise you then can’t read that book. As a result, I end up loving collecting the books, but growing frustrated when I find myself reluctant to actually sit down and read them. Books, I know, should do more than simply sit on a shelf and look good. They are made- and intended- to be read, to be enjoyed. I know that I am not worried about damaging the books because of money- I have no real intention of selling my books, and if I were to get rid of them, I wouldn’t sell them for more than a few pounds at most. My intention is not to make money by selling these special books on, so what exactly is my concern regarding them being damaged?
It seems to stem from the idea that you should treat your books well, and that special books must be regarded with extra care. At some point, my mind has equated ‘taking extra care’ with ‘being too scared to take them off the shelf’. That is the crux of the problem, and the thing that frustrates me to no end. I hate not reading books I’ve bought, but I hate the idea that I will somehow damage them with my hypothetical carelessness. It’s a cycle I struggle to see a way out of.
There’s one thing I know for certain, however; I’m a sucker for a special edition book.
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