What is a book lover?
There are probably as many answers to that question as there are people who enjoy books. For some, the love of books has to do with their collectibility: tracking down an inscribed first edition of a forgotten work is more of a rush than winning the lottery (although winning the lottery might allow larger purchases of collectible books). Condition is paramount with this kind of book lover, and they probably will never read their new acquisition.
On the other end of the spectrum are people who only care about what a book actually says. They’re fine with reading on their kindle or, if they utterly hate screen reading, a used-bookstore-bargain-bin paperback.
Most of us lie somewhere in the middle. Physical books have an appeal that transcends mere content. The edition, and yes, even the cover illustration, is often interwoven with the image that the book conjures in our mind years after the fact.
Also, there are some books that we just know we’ll read again and again, and that having a decent copy will make our lives easier in the long run. Anyone who’s ever read the densely-packed type of a 1970s paperback will likely understand why I’m looking for a decent edition of Rebecca to replace the one I bought in a used bookstore bargain bin.
So today, I wanted to do a roundup of three books that I reread recently because I purchased new, better editions of them. All three of the new editions are of that type that look impressive on a shelf but, more importantly, all three will last much longer than the cheap mass market paperbacks they supplanted.
On this occasion, I will be talking about the edition and not the content; they are three well-documented classics which need no further critical examination from me (not that that’s ever stopped me before…).
These three books represent three very different approaches to premium bookmaking (note that none of them costs more than about $40, so “premium” is a relative term).
The first, The Foundation Trilogy, by Isaac Asimov is one of the B&N leatherbound classics series, although I have serious doubts about whether that is real leather on the covers. Looks more like plastic to me, although it does a decent impression of it on the shelf.
The main pro to this one is clearly the price and easy availability. I picked it up off of a shelf at a B&N in the US. No mail, no hassle. The cons are that, though much sturdier than your average hardcover, and containing a ribbon bookmark, it pales a bit beside the more beautiful options around. Still, I’m delighted to have this one in my collection.
Our next volume is Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Though the Easton Press seems to have discontinued the edition I have and replaced it with an even better (albeit much, much more expensive) one, you can still buy copies of the one I refer to very easily online.
Now this one is definitely leather-bound, and the edition looks handmade. It has illustrations, and the paper seems to be something created for connoisseurs (in fact, it is archival-quality paper, so there may be something in that). It is a truly beautiful book meant to last and to look classy on a bookshelf. The wide spacing of the type also makes it a pleasure to read, so double goodness.
Cons? Well, from a practical point of view, you don’t really need a big hardback of this book. A 25,000 word novella is essentially fine in paperback form, and the large format of this one does seem like overkill. If you’re buying books only for the content, you will want to give this one a miss.
The last one we’re looking at today is Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose in the beautiful Folio Society Edition. It seems to have gone out of print, but here’s a nice one for a good price.
If anything – and despite the lack of leather – this edition is even more lush than the Easton Press book above. The paper is of a beautiful light cream, and the title page tells you everything you might need to know: the type of font, kind of paper, materials and even where the paper was milled. It has a slipcase as well.
And if you’re looking for content? Well, in this case, the edition is justified as well. There’s no justification for reading The Name of the Rose in a cheap paperback edition. This is a book to be savored, enjoyed, and reflected upon, no one that should leave ink marks from cheap printing on your hands.
And if you’re reading a book whose introduction says “Naturally, a manuscript” on a Kindle… well, then you are just a philistine and have obviously reached Classically Educated by mistake while searching for pictures of Etruscans having sex.
For the rest of you, the best of the three is the Eco… but those Easton Press editions sure look nice… and for $20, the three Asimov books in paperback would cost you more than the nice edition. So pick your poison.