Book + Lessons

I own two copies of first editions of my favorite book. The first was a heartfelt graduation gift. The cover has an amazing coffee ring on it from some other owner. A ring formed on a day, I imagine, that the book sat on an end table. The pages were closed after reading a segment that struck a chord, maybe the section where he’s kidnapped into a picnic on the countryside, but then abruptly the attention of the reader is pulled into reality and the coffee they were sipping simply needed to be set down. Somewhere in my life the binding paper on the back cover tore a little, the way your parents’ house isn’t the same after you’ve left. When you visit the function of the house is there, you understand every room, but are just slightly more careful as you pull open the drawers.

I found the second copy in a vintage warehouse type building in a small town along the coast in Washington. Tucked into a corner I saw the red binding and immediately knew. I held the copy close to me. Clean, well bound, crisp pages, the price penciled in the front cover for twenty five dollars. There was no choice but to purchase the book; simply unacceptable to leave the book in the warehouse. What a journey this book must have made to sit in this warehouse, unfound, and a first edition!

I met a girl in a bar once who let slip that we shared the same favorite book. Immediately, as you can imagine, I was enamored. She went on about the characters, the themes, and when she was finished waving her white wine glass around the table, I had a sense that she had a very different understanding of the book. We read a book and loved a story but pulled similar but importantly different lessons from the plot. I wonder still if she’s held a first edition, felt the cover page, and read the words that start the journey of the story. If perhaps she could run her fingers across the coffee ring could she read it like braille. Would she know the spine in the warehouse store among the shelves of vintage book backs.

I’m digging for some lesson to be learned from own two of the same thing. When I want to reread the book I have a soft cover version that has seen plenty of days jammed into a backpack or tucked into the bag on my bike. The softcover version might even be the version from whatever college course I read the book in to begin with. Maybe the lesson is use your softcovers, love your hardcovers, and don’t let a story sit unappreciated.