My Pre COVID-19 Bookcase

In these days of virtual broadcasts we have been given glimpses into people’s homes. We’ve seen their kitchens, bedrooms and even bathrooms. But the most popular backdrop seems to be a well-stocked bookcase, leading me to occasionally wonder if they are in fact reflective of the person’s reading habits or artfully arranged to create an aura of gravitas.

Growing up, I was in awe of my grandfather’s bookcases. He spoke six languages when he arrived in the US and when he died we found Russian physics textbooks, Yiddish stories, and a collection in English (or English translations) that included Emerson, Montaigne, Thackeray, Dickens, London, Shaw, Hardy, Turgenev and Remarque.  I knew that he often bought popular books at a stall near the subway station, but was somewhat surprised to find a paperback copy of Valley of the Dolls tucked among the serious works. I wondered if he knew what it was when he bought it, or what he thought of it. I was not surprised to find a copy of The Doctor Looks at Love and Life, by Dr. Joseph Collins, which was first published in 1926. It was not a “sex manual,” but what was probably for its time a rather liberal description of sexuality and sexual practices, as well as reflections on Freud, labor economics, and literature.

Collins was an advocate for sex education and insisted that ‘homosexuality” was neither deviant nor immoral. Perhaps my grandfather was attracted to the last chapter, “Leisure and Libraries,” in which Collins argued that our education system failed to act as a “humanizing agency.” His arguments would not be out of place in a contemporary discussion of the liberal arts and workforce education.  

My grandfather was a learned man. I inherited his bookcases and many of his books. I’d like to think I also inherited his eclectic reading tastes and his love of learning.