I’m always fascinated by old and broken things. One Christmas at my grandparents house I fell in love with an old pair of headphones. My grandpa conceded that buying quality the first time had payed off. Those headphones are probably twice my age. Another year I fell in love with the old green and grey screened Palm Pilot my parents had found while rooting around in our garage. A pet rock might have been more responsive but I rode the nostalgia wave until it ran out of gas.
My feelings toward old junk are in many ways parallel to those of old books. I love everything about them. The dusty covers, the cracked spines, the yellowing pages. These old books capture more than the authors imagination but transport the reader into a different era with different values and different assumptions about the world. And the best of them are a breath of fresh air.
So in this blog I will commemorate the older books that I have enjoyed reading the most.