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remembrance
of knowledge past
Books are our history - not just in the sense that our knowledge
of the past is in them, and is continually being reinterpreted through
them, but through the fact that our book shelves tell the story
of our own personal encounters with knowledge. As I sifted through
the boxes of books in the attic, deciding for each whether I could
part with it or not, there were some which quite clearly had to
be saved. Some reflect my own personal history - subjects that interested
me, movements that involved me. Others, though they probably don't
have any monetary value, are classics of western civilization -
no self-respecting home should be without them, or at least it seems
totally illogical to get rid of them if they're already there.
Bookshelves, however, have a way of filling up until we either stop
acquiring books, or have to remove some. And those that get removed
get put in boxes and moved to the attic - almost forgotten. When we
come across them again, after years of separation we probably wonder
what made us think that we could part with them. But even as we salvage
them, it's unclear that we'll have room on the shelves for them.
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