Biblioteca de mi casa (Biblioteca de casa meva)

Stories of two book collectors. These collectors likely organize their books in a traditional manner, horizontally and not stacked, nestled side by side so the paper fibers don’t wrinkle. They are thinkers, and they know every book they own. Both of them frequently move, fleeing from something, searching for something, hiding from something. Books are harder to move than furniture or clothes: they require care, cannot get wet, cannot be bent. If too many are packed together, they become heavy and take up space. Editions run out, they aren’t replicated, and if you don’t organize them well in boxes, you have to reconstruct the entire logic and dialogue.

Each of these two thinkers belongs to a different time and diaspora. In Walter Benjamin's time, a book could float in water for days without falling apart, though it would yellow and stain. It was an object made to last. The letters engraved with typesetting, the labor of composing text, letter by letter, forming words, sentences, paragraphs, and finally a page. This solidity faded, giving way to what we know today: cheap labor, massive machines printing thousands of books at once, stockpiles filling large warehouses, and cheap paper that lasts little. The weight, thickness, and value of books diminished. Libraries shrank, just like our homes and our time to read.

Many have written about the love of libraries, the soft breeze when smelling a new book, the poetry of finding a rarity on a bookstore shelf. But right now, I see little romanticism. Nathanael Araujo’s essay is a living reflection of the lack of rigor in these fragile objects since their diaspora.

Technical Details
Year: 2023
Language: Spanish / Catalan
Format: 24x17 cm
Type: Softcover
Includes annexes