The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac

Eugene Field's charming 1896 collection of autobiographical essays is less a book about books than a love letter written in margins. The author, an American poet better known for "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," turns his attentions to the peculiar tenderness of bibliomania: that restless compulsion to possess, to hold, to make oneself worthy of the volumes we adore. Field recounts his earliest literary awakening through a well-worn New England Primer, traces the arc of a collecting life spent chasing rare editions across continents, and mourns the Elzevirs that got away with the mournful grace of a jilted lover. This is not a novel with Mary and John Smith and plot points; it is something quieter and more precious. It is an old man sitting in his library, patting the spines of his beloveds, and telling you why they matter. The prose meanders with Victorian unhurriedness, punctuated by quotations in French and Latin, but patience yields rewards: Field's affection is infectious, his humor self-deprecating, and his passion for the printed word utterly sincere.