Category Archives: Week 13: Bookishness and “Unpacking My Library”

Bookishness

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Reading Dr. Pressman’s book, “Bookishness: Loving Books in a Digital Age,” felt like the perfect capstone to this class in the way that everything fell into place and how the book related to many of our discussions. At the beginning of the semester, we discussed how books were once a new technology that sparked wariness and various discussions about their impact. Now, centuries later, a new conversation has spread about our ventures into the digital space and how it would affect books. “On page 26, Pressman writes, “Five hundred years after Gutenberg’s invention, we have become used to books as accessible, ever-present commodities and personal comforts. We forget that the book was once the new media, raising concern about its potential power.” Within this quote, Pressman acknowledges the commodification of books, the evolution of book technology, and how power is deeply entwined with it. Since the beginning of the semester, we have discussed the commodification of books and how it has become a main aspect of books. Books became portable, marketable, and desirable, which is seen in the way that books have become an aesthetic. Anything could be rebranded with the image of a book and it would sell. Another point that Pressman addresses is how books have evolved over time inclduing views on them. During a time where everything is saturated with books and bookish content, it is easy to forget that books were once a new technology that fed many fears. Pressman includes a quote from Victor Hugo’s “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” where the Claude Frollo declares that the book will kill the church and its influence. Despite being centuries ago, the sentiment has remained the same in which we see this same fear as we venture into digital spaces. Finally Pressman ackknowledges the power that books hold. At first glance, it is easy to ignore the importance of books and how they can shape people. She writes, “experimental novels play with the materiality of the book to present narrative allegories that figure the digital as monstrous and the book as a powerful weapon against it.” Books hold an incredible power that challenge the digital realm and it is clear in Pressman’s book that she wants to express this notion.

“Unpacking my Library”

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Walter Benjamin’s “Unpacking My Library” offers a unique and personal look into the life of a book collector, prompting us to reconsider what it means to truly “own” a book and what it means to be a book “collector”. It is a wonderful final reading for this class. Benjamin begins by stating that “I am unpacking my library. Yes, I am. The books are not yet on the shelves, not yet touched by the mild boredom of order” (Benjamin, 59). A chaotic scene for new discovery within one’s own archive is set. 

What struck me is how Benjamin distinguishes between collecting and a collection. He emphasizes that a true collector’s passion “borders on the chaos of memories” and that the act of collecting is tied to stories and histories rather than just utility or monetary value. A collector does not simply collect books for their content or value, but for the deeper meaning each item holds. Benjamin explains, “The most profound enchantment for the collector is the locking of individual items within a magic circle in which they are fixed as the final thrill, the thrill of acquisition, passes over them” (Benjamin, 60). Each book becomes a vessel of memory and discovery, as a way for the collector to see through objects into their unique past. Our midterm project, writing the biography of a book, taught us this, exhibiting how the materiality of books are more than vessels for written content, but artifacts with their own rich histories and stories to tell. Benjamin also highlights the unpredictability of acquiring and collecting books, where even catalogued items may offer surprise or new information. Benjamin recounts discovering a rare illustrated book he had never thought of owning, describing it as a freedom given to a lonely book. For him, the “true freedom of all books is somewhere on his shelves” (Benjamin, 64).  This resonated with me, especially after our studies of archives, where we have found how exciting it can be to discover unexpected connections, histories, and the unique lives of objects. 

In “Unpacking my Library”, Benjamin reminds us that collecting and creating one’s own archive is not passive, but an emotional and physical endeavor. Our collections are reflections of our passions and memories which can be found in the content of our books and the pages themselves. This class, and Benjamin’s reading, inspires me to explore deeper into my own archive of books to uncover, or rediscover, something new.

The Books Who Breathe

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This is my first time engaging in a Walter Benjamin reading and, to begin, his writing style is beautiful. It lacks pretentiousness while conveying a full-bodied story. What I got from *Illuminations* is a telling of how the value of a book can come in many different ways from the text, as evidenced by the act of collecting. Benjamin describes important information beyond the text, such as “dates, place names, formats, previous owners, bindings and the like: all these details must tell [the collector] something–not as dry, isolated facts, but as a harmonious whole” (63-64). All of these can provide some value for the collector, thus demonstrating that value does not come from any single place. Rather, it is ascribed by the collector themselves.

The creation of meaning by a dialogical relationship between book and author is beautifully stated by Benjamin: “I am not exaggerating when I say that to a true collector the acquisition of an old book is its rebirth” (61). The wording of “rebirth” is important here because it is not the creation of a completely new entity. “Rebirth” is a recreation or reiteration of something that previously existed–thus it is the recreation from the same book. In Benjamin’s writing, the book can not be reborn without the collector. Albeit in a more dramatic and morbid manner, this concept reminds me of an excerpt from an essay written by Jacqueline Rose for the London Review of Books: “After all, if I can’t exist without you, then you have, among other things, the power to kill me”. Both of these writers acknowledge life as perception. For Benjamin, the rebirth of the book is dependent on its’ perception by the collector. In other words, for a book–or a person–to be re-born or alive, then it must be perceived.

Week 13: Book Collecting Chaos

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Reading Walter Benjamin’s “Unpacking My Library” really made me think about what it means to truly own something versus just having it. Benjamin opens his essay by quite literally unpacking his book collection, and right away he admits he’s not going to give us some organized tour through his shelves. Instead, he invites us into “the disorder of crates that have been wrenched open, the air saturated with the dust of wood, the floor covered with torn paper” (59). There’s something really honest and kind of refreshing about this. It’s like he’s not pretending his collection is some perfectly curated thing.

What really interested me was Benjamin’s idea that collecting is fundamentally irrational. He writes about how “every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories” (60). This isn’t about building a useful library or even necessarily reading all the books. It’s about the memories attached to each one. Where you found it, who owned it before, the thrill of finally tracking down that one edition you’d been searching for. As someone who still has books from middle school that I’ll probably never reread in my life time, I get this. They’re not just objects, they’re like physical markers of different moments in my life.

The tension Benjamin describes between order and disorder in collecting really resonated with me. Collectors want to organize and catalog everything, but the actual experience of collecting is messy and emotional and sometimes totally random. You don’t always acquire books in a logical order. Sometimes you just stumble upon something that feels right in the moment.

What I found kind of profound was his point about renewal through collecting. He argues that acquiring an old book is like giving it a new life, pulling it out of obscurity and making it part of your world. In our age of digital everything and minimalism, there’s something almost rebellious about accumulating physical books and caring deeply about which edition you have or where it came from. Benjamin’s essay makes me wonder if we’ve lost something by treating books as just functional objects.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Childlike Wonder

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If this class and these last two readings have taught me anything, it is to approach the physical aspects of books, their history, and subsequent possible future with a childlike wonder. In the humdrum of certain classes, and constant pressure to be serious about the grades my perfectionist brain yearns to achieve, as well as the social expectations bearing down on my shoulders to be a serious adult, my research/assignments—while still interesting—become drained of color. The information and the search for information feels more like a means to an end rather than the end itself, and the process itself becomes a challenge to rush through and away from. There is no genuine wonder within my learning sometimes.

But with the experience I have now, and especially this quote from Unpacking My Library, “Among children, collecting is only one process of renewal; other processes are the painting of objects, the cutting out of figures, the application of decals-the whole range of childlike modes of acquisition, from touching things to giving them names…everything said from the angle of a real collector is whimsical,” I am reminded to see with the eyes of a child just discovering something (Benjamin 61-62). It is this childlike wonder that carved the path for the “Bookwork” mentioned on pages 8-9 in Dr. Pressman’s book intro. The sculptors utilized what Benjamin describes as “childlike modes of acquisition.” They touch and shape the book into something new, coming at it with a childlike wonder that makes it their own.

The midterm and these readings made me realize I am still able to have that childlike wonder without the seriousness clouding the work. I can discover things and be excited from those discoveries, and not do it just for a grade but because I genuinely am in awe from the information. It was the physical inspection—the holding, touching, and the turning of the pages—of Copernicus’s book, along with the discovery of questions, that reignited that childlike wonder spark in my brain. I wasn’t sorting through a vast amount of research with no direction, but instead a path that was being revealed to me for the first time that made me want to dig deeper.

It’s like going from being oxygen deprived to your lungs being drenched in O2. I felt excitement and wonder during school for the first time in a long time, and I’m glad these readings actually put it into perspective for me. Now going forward, I’ll make sure this child like wonder stays with me, no matter what I choose to do in the future.

Week 13: Unpacking My Library – Walter Benjamin

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In “Unpacking My Library,” Walter Benjamin writes about the experience of unpacking his books after they had been stored away for a long time. What struck me most is how personal his relationship with his books feels. He says that for a real collector, “it is he who lives in them.” I love this idea because it makes books feel alive, almost like a home that holds all of someone’s memories and experiences.

Benjamin doesn’t talk about books in a practical way, like something to read and then put away. Instead, he sees them as companions that carry stories beyond the ones written inside. Each book has a history of where it came from, how it was found, and what moments in life it connects to. I find that beautiful because it shows how reading and collecting are emotional acts. They are about memory and attachment, not just knowledge.

When I was reading this essay, I started thinking about my own small collection of books. Since I came to SDSU for my semester abroad, I only brought a few with me, but each one reminds me of something. One book reminds me of home and reading late at night in my room. Another reminds me of a trip with a friend. So when Benjamin describes unpacking as a process full of memories, I really understand that feeling. It’s not just about putting books on a shelf. It’s like meeting old friends again.

I also liked how Benjamin admits that collectors are a bit chaotic. He says that every passion has some chaos in it, and I think that’s true. His shelves aren’t perfectly organized, but maybe that’s what makes them real. Sometimes the disorder of our books reflects who we are better than neatness ever could.

In the end, Benjamin’s essay feels like a love letter to books and to the act of collecting them. He isn’t showing off his library; he’s showing what it means to live with books, to grow up with them, and to see a part of himself inside them. I think that’s what he means when he says the collector “disappears inside” his library. Maybe he’s saying that the books we love become a part of who we are — and that we find pieces of ourselves in their pages.

Week 13: Joy in My Messy Book Collection

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In “Unpacking My Library,” Walter Benjamin reflects on the emotional and almost intimate relationship collectors have with their books. He explains that the true value of a collection lies not in reading the books but in the personal history surrounding them. As he writes, “every passion borders on the chaotic” and the passion of a book collector is marked by fond memory and affection more than utility or practicality (60). This idea resonates deeply with the way I relate to my own small but growing collection.

Like Benjamin, I don’t always acquire books because I intend to read them right away. Instead, I often pick one up because I’ve either heard great reviews, it’s been gifted to me, or simply because I liked the way the cover looked. Benjamin writes that collectors often have a relationship with books that is more about the story of acquisition than the text itself. He writes  “the thrill of acquisition” in collecting becomes a central feeling, as each book carries a unique experience and relationship between the book and its owner (60).

This is exactly how my own collection works. I store books away on a shelf, thinking that I’ll get to them later, and then I completely forget about them until I clean my room. When I rediscover them, I feel a sudden sense of joy not just because I’m finally about to read them, but because each book reminds me of where it came from. My books hold memories of past moments, people, and places. The joy I feel from stumbling upon my books relates to Benjamin’s argument that collections are biographies in object form. The books gifted to me especially hold emotional sentiment. Their value is not connected to the words on the page but rather to the person who gave them to me. My personal experience of book collecting is similar to Benjamin’s notion that a collection is an archive of one’s memories serving as a personal narrative or timeline. My shelves might be messy, and I haven’t read a lot of the books I own, but their value comes from what I experience in life.

Bookishness

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This week we read Professor Pressman’s Bookishness: Loving Books in a Digital Age Intro and Chapter 1 and honestly, very fascinating and intriguing. I know we have discussed bookishness in class before but I feel as though this introduction and first chapter made me understand it even more and honestly, I see myself as a bookishness person and I never realized it and I also never realized how much we truly do fetish this object. I also never realized that our deep love for books also change how we craft the book like its physical aspect which is what professor Pressman talks about in her work. “Bookishness affects literature not only at the level of content and story, but also in form and format.”(Pressman 22). This sentence made me remember about our times in special collections where we would see a lot of great books that didn’t really LOOK like books. We saw how someone made a story with a can, as well as a copy of Dracula no more than maybe half an inch big and wide as well as a constellation book that folded into pyramids which are 3D shapes. We as a society love this object so much that we are willing to break the rules of how a book should be created physical as well as written “appropriately” because changing the formatting and format of a books content is a huge deal and is something that should not be overlooked at all. Content is important, but we must ask ourselves as to why our author created this book the way they wanted and why did they decide to format the content into weird formats. Format and formatting is something that has interested me from the start of class because I have read countless books where authors tend to let their creativity run loose with formatting. I always found it “unformal” as a child when I read books with those formats and I often labeled them as books not worth reading since they became silly in my eyes. Seeing it now though, its creative liberty and freedom of expression which I think is beautiful and something that should not be overlooked which is ironic considering its a physical aspect in which you are constantly looking at when reading.

Looking back at my life, I remember reading pop-up books, but never really asked myself as to why it was created that way or rather; how someone was obsessed with books so much that they wanted to literally bring it to life. Books are great and seeing how humanity is obsessed with them(me too) I cant wait to see what people are going to share later down the line!

Unpacking the Bookishness

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Dr. Pressman’s book Bookishness and Walter Benjamin’s “Unpacking My Library: A Talk About Book Collecting” both contemplate and ruminate on the value of possessing books. While Dr. Pressman’s work isn’t purely based on book collecting, she does write [following her quote of Bonnie Mak on books attesting to the character of owners] “The bookshelves serve as evidence that the noble pursuit of knowledge can offer an alternative to a noble birth,” (Pressman, 34). This is indicative of a person self-representing themselves based on the collection of books they own in their own personal library. In today’s literary culture which has moved from the physical aspect of unpacking libraries to digitizing them, the virtual bookshelf is even greater than the physical one that Benjamin wrote almost a century ago.

Benjamin writes, “To a book collector, you see, the true freedom of all books is somewhere on his shelves” (Benjamin, 64). The 20th century perspective of unpacking a library has changed dramatically. Where Benjamin finds chaos in the reorganization of books is also where he finds peace. He purposefully proposes a physical intimacy with the books that he owns which only increases the value to him. This library that he unpacks is difficult to imagine today. Like Dr. Pressman discusses with the virtual bookshelf in Bookishness which “displays books with their covers, rather than spines, facing outward” and that it “reminds us that old and new media operate in complex loops of recursive influence rather than a linear ‘this will kill that’ model” (37) there is a certain kind of privilege that comes with physically owning books or the digitized versions we have permission to access. Book collection has changed in so many ways yet the principal of ownership remains unphased.

Nearness – Staying Close to Books in a Digital World

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“Bookishness is about maintaining a nearness to books.” (p. 10) Nearness. There’s something quiet but powerful in the way Pressman uses that phrase. She isn’t talking about how much we read or how deeply we understand a text. She is talking about something simpler. Being close to books, keeping them around us, letting them shape the spaces we live in. And that idea immediately made me think about why books still matter in a world where so much has moved to screens.

For Pressman, this physical closeness becomes a kind of language. The book doesn’t need to be opened to speak, it communicates simply by being there. A shelf full of novels, a stack on a nightstand, even a single book placed on a desk can create a certain atmosphere. It changes how a room feels. It changes how we feel in the room. Nearness becomes emotional. It suggests comfort, stability, or even a small sense of grounding in a digital world that is constantly shifting and moving. But Pressman pushes this idea even further. She reminds us that bookishness isn’t only about what we surround ourselves with, it’s also about who we become through it. “‘Bookishness’ comes from ‘bookish,’ a word used to describe a person who reads a lot (perhaps too much). When coupled with ‘-ness,’ the term takes on a subtle new valence.” (p. 10) Suddenly bookishness is not an action but a state of being. It becomes part of how we present ourselves, how we are read by others and how we imagine our own identity.

And I see this everywhere. Books on shelves in the background of Zoom calls. So-called “shelfies” on social media. Pinterest boards full of libraries people will never visit, saved simply because of the aesthetic. It’s all an attempt to stay close to books, even when the books themselves have become partly digital and partly symbolic. Nearness moves from the physical world into the online one and the objects we keep or the images we share still say something about us. What I find interesting is how natural this feels. We don’t usually think about why a room looks different when it has books in it. We don’t question why a shelf can make a space feel warmer or more personal. But Pressman makes visible something we usually take for granted. Books shape the environments we build and the selves we project. To be “bookish” today doesn’t mean reading all day. It means choosing to stay close to the idea of the book. Its presence, its weight, its quiet promise of time and attention.

In a world where everything is fast and fleeting, nearness becomes its own kind of resistance. It’s a small way of holding on to something steady. And maybe that’s why bookishness feels so relevant now. Not because we are reading more, but because we still want our lives to feel like there’s space for books in them.