What is a book?

I have an American Heritage College Dictionary, now nearly 20 years old, that lists the first definition of the word book as "A set of pages fastened along one side and encased between protective covers."

For most of us, something like that is probably what comes to mind when we think of a book. Yet this definition, or any definition, leaves something to be desired.

If the pages are blank, is it still a book? What if the pages are utter nonsense, perhaps typed by one of those infinite number of monkeys?

Does a pamphlet become a book if it is given a more protective cover?

Does a writer's manuscript become a book when it is published or does it become a book if it is placed in a three-ring binder (a protective cover)?

If a novel is published first in a magazine, as so many Charles Dickens novels were, is it a book?

If we listen to a book on some kind of electronic media, can we still count it as a book? What if we read it on a Nook or a Kindle?

Any definition one can come up with can be either too restrictive or not restrictive enough. With a broad definition, as in the American Heritage Collegiate Dictionary, almost any of us can say we have written a book. Ever kept a diary? Ever put a term paper in a stiff cover? Congratulations, you are an author.

On the other hand, the definition can suggest that one of Dickens' serialized novels isn't really a book, at least not yet.

Emma Smith proposes an interesting definition in her book Portable Magic. She writes, "A book becomes a book in the hands of its readers, It is an interactive object. A book that is not handled and read is not really a book at all."

To me, that is utter nonsense. If she were correct, bookstores and libraries contain no books. Those paper objects do not become books until someone takes them home and reads them. Then, apparently, they cease to be books when put back on the shelf. That's like saying a chair isn't really a chair unless someone is sitting in it.

No thanks. I prefer the dictionary definition, as inadequate as it may be.

Magic moments

Once in a great while during the course of our lives, something happens that seems magical. Sarah Addison Allen packs a lot of those magical moments into Lost Lake (2014).

Lost Lake is a small resort in Georgia that has seen better days. Eby, who bought it years before with her late husband, believes it's time to sell. Hardly anyone comes there these days. Then the magic starts.

Kate, her niece who hasn't been to Lost Lake since she was a little girl, returns with her daughter, Devin.  Kate is a young widow whose mother-in-law has been controlling her life for the past year. Now both she and her daughter want to escape.

At Lost Lake she finds Wes, with whom she had played when they were children. He still pines for her.

Meanwhile the few regulars return for a summer stay and decide to throw a goodbye party for Eby. When the town hears about it, everyone shows up, including the man who wants to buy Lost Lake.

The novel has an alligator that only Devin can see, a box hidden for decades in the lake, an aging woman down to her last charm that enables her to seduce any married man she wants and a mute French woman who keeps a chair in her kitchen for the ghost of the boy who killed himself years ago after she rejected him.

There's magic aplenty in Lost Lake, but perhaps the most magical thing about the novel is the way everyone just takes the magic in stride. Magic, like death and taxes, just happens.

Black and blue

The title of Eowyn Ivey's 2025 novel Black Woods Blue Sky was inspired by Marcel Proust. In Swann's Way he wrote, "Now are the woods all black, but still the sky is blue. May you always see a blue sky overhead, my young friend ..."

Those words fit Ivey's novel very well, for it is a story about black woods and blue skies, life at its best and at its worst.

Arthur, raised at first by bears, then adopted by a human couple, doesn't seem to know what he is. Sometimes he wears a bearskin and lives a bear's life. At other times he lives as a man, even if an odd one, in the Alaskan wilderness.

Birdie, a bar maid who drinks almost as much as she serves, lives a wild life while trying to raise her little girl, Emaleen, at the same time. She falls in love with Arthur, a wild man whom she thinks might be able to tame her, and takes Emaleen to live with him. The girl realizes before her mother does that Arthur may be more bear than man.

In the last portion of the novel, Emaleen is a grown young woman who returns to Alaska and, against the advice of others, tries to find Arthur.

Ivey gives us a powerful story of hope and love, while taking us through the black woods at the same time.

Migratory books

Books' intrinsic portability means they are always on the move, always migratory, always displaced.

Emma Smith, Portable Magic

Most of us hate to throw out old books. Instead we give them away when are done with them. We donate them for library book sales. We take them to used book stores.

The condo library, which I oversee, depends upon this difficulty people have to throw out old books, even well-worn books. Instead they donate them to the library, providing "new" books for our shelves, while also leaving me with the responsibility of getting rid of older books. Most I donate for resale elsewhere. Some I must reluctantly recycle.

I hate to write in books, but wouldn't it be nice if each person left a record in each book owned? That is, we could write our name, along with the date the book was acquired and the date it was passed on. At one time, public libraries did something like this. Those who withdrew a book left their names and dates on the library card.

For some books, I think this trail might be very interesting. I own a number of books that were used when I got them. Who owned them before me? How far have these books traveled?

Emma Smith hints at this when she writes above about the portability of books, about their migratory nature. Books remain for years on one particular shelf, but then when their owners die or decide to downsize, they are passed on somebody else, and then perhaps to somebody else. The best books end up in collections, in university libraries, in museums.

Sometimes there have been attempts to save books by destroying them, photocopying them, digitizing them or whatever. Yet the books themselves, though made of paper, can last a very long time with proper care. Books hundreds of years old can still be read. Paper lasts much longer than modern media, which can become outdated within a few years.

If only we could know the history of old books.

Books are for reading

Those who collect books rarely read them. If they want to read the book, they will buy a cheap reading copy. They may not ever open the collectible. Any wear at all decreases its value.

It is something like the person who collects Star Wars action figures. A true collector never takes them out of their boxes. They are toys that are never played with.

This is how I knew I could never be a book collector, even though at one time I had several books worth a little bit of money. I owned a book because I wanted to read it. When I finally sold my first edition of A Is for Alibi for $1,000, the buyer wondered why it was so worn. To me it was never a collectible. I read it, and I loaned to other people to read.

At the same time, and this may sound contradictory, I acquire books I may want to read but know I am unlikely to ever read. But I don't own them because I expect them to increase in value. I own them because I like having them in my library. I like the thought that I might actually get around to reading them someday. I like the sight of them. I like owning them. Some books seem to make me smarter just by being on my shelves.

Perhaps this doesn't make sense. But then neither does keeping a Star Wars action figure in its box.

Books that help us

Emma Smith

All books are really self-help books.

Emma Smith, Portable Magic

Self-help books are, of course, a whole category books. They help us — or at least promise to help us — do almost anything: lose weight, improve our looks, build a deck, fight addiction, recover from divorce, whatever. But are all books, in a sense, self-help books, as Emma Smith suggests?

It is an interesting idea. We do, after all, read books to help us in some way, even if we only want to be entertained. We read a history book because we want to know more about that particular part of history. We read a biography because we want to know more about the person who is the subject of the biography.

The Bible is a self-help book. So is Gone with the Wind, Pride and Prejudice, The Sun Also Rises and Gone Girl.

Are there some books that are not self-help books? Probably. Reading some books can hurt us more than they help us. Some books are a total waste of time. Some books are so boring that we either never finish them or we remember nothing from them after we have finished. Some books can help one person but not another.

Most books, if not all books, can be seen as self-help books. Even so, it is good that most books are not categorized in that way. Leave that designation for the likes of these recent releases: Party for One: Perfectly Portioned Recipes Just for You and Just Diagnosed: A Survivor's Guide to Navigating Cancer.

The magic of books

 In Portable Magic (2022), Emma Smith writes about that little piece of magic that is called a book. It is partly a history of books and partly a collection of trivia about books.

She writes about why Marilyn Monroe liked to be photographed with books (right), especially intellectual books such as Ulysses; the moral questions involved in either publishing, selling or reading Hitler's Mein Kampf;  books bound with human skin, and book burning, among many other topics.

Sometimes she contradicts accepted wisdom. The Bible was not actually the first book Gutenberg printed on his printing press. Charles Dickens did not invent the modern Christmas with the publication of A Christmas Carol. More books are destroyed by those who publish them than by anyone else. (What did you think happened to the books the stores can't sell?)

Much of Smith's book is fascinating. Even more of it is deadly dull. One of the magical things about a book is that one is not required to read every word.