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***I'm a bookbinder specializing in repair/restoration of old books. I can spend weeks repairing a leather binding from the 1700's, and when I hand the customer the book, he'll always grin, open it & start reading. They don't look at what I have done. And they always say, "This is such a great book, did you read it?" I think the whole thing is visceral memories associated with reading, don't look for logic in it. That's the way I am, too!***
What a lovely job you've chosen, EP. I'm sure it's satisfying. There is true wonder in a gorgeously bound volume, lovingly produced, as there is, perhaps, in a restored Elizabethan four-poster bed or a Chippendale chair.
But you do realise the value of what riches of history and thought lie inside the magnificent casket you have crafted for a book. That is refreshing. It's also something I'd never before considered. Thanks for the new thoughts.
There is a sound case for aesthetic and artistic presentation. On the other hand, Elizabethan beds and ol' Chip's furtiture are valued for their appearance rather than their utility. You would happily relax on a modern, functional piece of furniture to admire the artisanship of the antique, rather than use the antique itself. Perhaps the same can be said of books -- some are produced for pure readability, others for the sheer, breathtaking pleasure we get from gazing at an object of beauty.
Two entirely different functions, each reflecting an aspect of art. Each appealing to a passion, each happily co-existing, each with its rightful place in our respectful admiration.
Best wishes. Neil
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