I agree with the author that books, real physical books, are far from dead. I have to admit that I do not find it as problematic as said author that books be used as pieces of art–because I see so many connections and inspirations in art and literature. I do agree that books should not merely be props though. Pretending to be someone or something you are not is dubious. And placing certain books on a coffee table at various times of the year is pretentious and reeks of snobbery. Books should describe their owner, but they should be loved and displayed in ways that promote that same love of learning in others–a stack by the bed, a wall of bookshelves, on the shelf of an end table, etc. Our literature is a window into our shared histories, into our souls.
Last week, Mireille Silcoff wrote an article for The New York Times: On Their Death Bed, Books Have Finally Become Sexy.
Given that I recently published a blog post, “Sexiest Book Alive,” I took issue with the idea that physical books have ever NOT been sexy. Then I read the piece, and I took serious issue with some other things, indeed.
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