I listened to The Man Who Loved Books Too Much by Allison Hoover Bartlett. The man in question was a book thief who stole valuable rare books. The story explains his psychology and motive, which is very much involved with being an admirable person, an educated and wealthy man. He felt that he would be that person if he possessed books that are considered great, such as the Modern Library collection. But he wanted first editions or some other copy of the work that was especially valuable. But get this: he didn't plan to read them! Once in a while he did but it was possessing the book that felt right and uplifting to him.
That he had stolen the books did not matter, as far as he was concerned. He stole a valuable post card from a rare book dealer. When the police tracked down who was taking the books and searched his house, they found the post card and confiscated it along with other books they knew or suspected were stolen property. But they returned everything to him that they could not document as stolen and the post card was one of the returned items. As far as he was concerned, the fact that the police returned the post card meant that he now owned it legally!
Being interested in the language and ideas of books, I have wanted very much to read them. I preferred an inexpensive copy, a clean used copy, a library copy. It seems to me that having a book and not reading it is like having a beautiful painting and keeping it where it cannot be seen.
I have been thinking about what is often called "possessing" a woman, a euphemism for going to bed with her. Having sex with her may or may not result in her wanting to be with that partner but she is not actually possessed, owned. Having the book on your shelf in any edition, in any format, doesn't really give you much possession of the book. Strong passions may be slaked by the act of bedding or shelving (or reading for that matter) but it is clear that the satisfaction is a concept and a feeling.
Deeply enjoying a book, its language or its plot, can feel somewhat like having, but it is, like most things, temporary and basically illusory. One month later, see if you can recall the plot. You may forget that you read the book or forget how the hero escapes. Yet, over time, we may form a conviction that we "have" the book if we still have a copy on our shelf, or somewhere. Now, where did that book get to, anyhow?
