Book Ends?
J. Kevin Tumlinson

I'm a pretty sentimental guy. I keep everything. I have boxes filled with old toys, school papers, old clothes that I have no hope of fitting into again, and, of course, books. Books are my biggest weakness, I have tons of them. And I mean that literally. The one chore that my friends and I dread the most is lugging my books around when I move.

But I can't get rid of them. I see people do it all the time, so I know it's possible to sell your books, or trade them, or donate them. But… it would be like giving away my childhood or something. These books – the stories in them, the information I've learned from them – they are as much a part of me as my memories of Christmas or playing in the woods behind the house where I grew up. They are vivid memories, waiting to be revisited at any time. All I have to do is crack the cover.

Books are a tremendous burden, though. They're heavy, they take up space, and they collect dust with some uncanny magnetic power. They are always scattered everywhere, always cluttered looking, always sitting around in stacks, waiting to be re-read or read for the first time. What purpose do they serve, really, when they aren't being read? You can't cook with them, you can't drive a nail with them, you can't even drive them to the store. You can prop up a shelf or a couch or some other object with them, but that seems like more of a job for a brick.

Despite their limited functionality, they are really the most amazing things. Books represent a part of humanity that is completely evolved beyond instinct. After all, children mimic speech and so they learn to talk. They are born hungry and so they figure out how to eat. If they burn themselves, they learn that fire is hot. But when they read something, they are gaining knowledge through some means beyond direct experience. It's almost like a form of telepathy from the author to the reader, a communication across time and space, from mind to mind. I think it, my hand writes it, your eyes see it, your brain interprets it. Bam! You know what I know.

Books are kind of like external brains. Here is all this knowledge and wisdom, passed down from generations and legions of minds, and it's all yours for the taking. You can think the thoughts that Aristotle thought. You can view the world as Einstein viewed it. You can know the intricacies of ancient Greek society as Homer knew them. All that without so much as leaving your recliner.

Is it any wonder I can't get rid of these things? It'd be like tossing out a time machine or throwing away a magic crystal ball.

No matter how many advances we make in technology, books are still an experience in and of themselves. They are more tactile, they are more sensory, they have more character. When you read a book, there is the sense of accomplishment you get when you finally turn that last page. You look up as you clap the cover closed, sigh to yourself, smile, think about what you've read, and realize that you are more than you were when you started. Beautiful, isn't it?

Now, if only I could figure out what to do with these things when I'm done reading them.

J. Kevin Tumlinson is the Editor for ViewOnline Magazine at www.viewonline.com . He is a Houston Baptist University graduate with degrees in English and Communications. You can reach him by e-mail at kevin@viewonline.com . He needs bookshelves.