Love Books? You Really Need to Read Ex Libris.

When I finally got around to reading Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman, I was surprised to see that she was also the author of The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, which I read several years ago. The Spirit Catches You is a nonfiction book about the culture clash between a Hmong family in California and the American medical system. It was hard for me to imagine that the author of that book had also written a book of essays on “a lifelong love affair with books and language” (from the copy on the front flap of Ex Libris’ dust jacket).

Why I’m so surprised that the same person could write about very different subjects in very different styles is beyond me. My own interests are all over the map. At any rate, while I found The Spirit Catches You well-written and informative, I thought Ex Libris was downright delightful. The fact that Anne could write a good book on cultural conflict and medicine and a great book on bibliophilia just increases my admiration for her.

If you’re a bibliophile who has not yet read Ex Libris, here’s why you need to get your hands on a copy (if you don’t already have one sitting in a stack of unread books) and immerse yourself in Anne’s delightful essays.

Ex Libris Is Funny

While I wouldn’t go so far as to call Ex Libris “comedy,” it’s very funny. At least, it is if you’re a word nerd. Anyone who has had the urge to correct public signage will love the essay “r/ Inse∧t a Carrot e/.”

My brother revealed that in a 364-page computer-software manual he had consulted the previous month, he had found several hundred errors in spelling, grammar, and syntax. His favorite was the oft-repeated command to “insert a carrot.” He had written the company, offering to trade a complete list of corrections for an upgraded version of the software, but had not received a reply.

The author did her brother one better: After finding 15 misprints in an edition of Nabakov’s Speak Memory, she wrote to the author to let him know. You’ll have to read the essay for yourself to find out what happened.

In “The Catalogical Imperative,” Anne writes about the joys of reading catalog copy. Again, if you are a person who gravitates toward print — any print, just give me something to read! — you will understand.

Who could read the Garrett Wade tool catalogue without thinking, ‘This is a poem’? Not I. In fact, here it is. The following syllabically impeccable haiku consists entirely of items you can order by calling (800) 221-2942:

Joiner’s mash, jack plane.

Splitting froe? Bastard cut rasp!

Craftsman dozuki.

I hope you noted the Japanese touch in the final line, which refers, of course, to Item No. 49117.01, a saw whose blade ‘has a very smooth action with a very narrow kerf.’ (I am currently composing a villanelle inspired by the word kerf.)

This is nerdy humor at its best.

You Will Feel Like Anne Could Be Your Friend

You know those books that make you think, “I wish I could meet the author, because I’m sure we could be friends?” This is one of those books. Anyone whose idea of the perfect birthday present is walking out of a store with 19 pounds of used books is someone I could talk to for hours.

Read Ex Libris, and you will find yourself saying again and again, “Yes, yes! Me, too!” In the same “Catalogical Imperative” essay I mentioned above, Anne writes about the J. Peterman catalog:

My analysis of J. Peterman’s appeal is that it is a Harlequin romance for the kind of people who vacation in Krk. For example (to quote from the blurb for an ankle-length crêpe-de-Chine floral dress with leg-o’-mutton sleeves):

‘He spends the morning repairing the deer fence. The next job is to start a compost pile. It’s getting warm. As he takes off his flannel shirt, he observes that you are no longer reclining in the bay window reading Proust.’

This paragraph makes a number of assumptions, all exceedingly pleasant:

1. I own a country house.
2. I own a deer fence.
3. I own a compost pile.
4. I have enough time to read Proust.
5. While reading Proust, I wear ankle-length dresses with leg-o’-mutton sleeves.

But I didn’t order the dress. My problem—and it has made Anne F., though a devoted reader of catalogues, a faithless patron—is that I never want the item, I want the associated fantasy.

Amen, Anne.

Most Importantly, Ex Libris Is a Celebration of Books and Words

In Ex Libris, Anne explores everything from how libraries are organized to the joys of “reading books in the places they describe,” which she calls You-Are-There reading. She writes about the perfect pen, about changing language to make men and women equal, and about reading aloud. If your idea of a horror story is being confined to a place with no reading material, Ex Libris was written for you. You will not be disappointed.