Ugh I’m frustrated because a minor annoyance is genuinely eating me up.
Here’s what happened: I have a birthday coming up soon, so I bought myself a copy of one of my favorite books as a treat (Crime and Punishment). As someone on the autism spectrum, books are one of my special interests, and I’m very protective of them.
The problem started last night when I was handling the book. I accidentally damaged the front page, and now it’s consuming my every thought. I feel physically ill when I hold the book now, and I can’t handle the sensory feeling of bent paper, especially in a book I really care about, it makes my body recoil in discomfort. I keep trying to make the situation better in my head, I know I’ll feel better if I let it go, I just cannot get over it. It’s bad enough that I’m considering buying another copy of the book just so I don’t have to acknowledge the damaged copy, which is annoying because it wasn’t cheap.
I don’t usually post on this sub but I feel like it’s something I’m sure other book lovers have experienced. Idk what to do when these things happen, I shouldn’t let these things have power over me, but because of my spectrum issues, it almost feels unavoidable. Really looking for support, advice, and maybe validation that I’m not the only person who has this type of pet peeve.
by naomiwattsfan93
10 Comments
You added character to the book. I like used books better, because the light damage to them shows that someone liked them before I did. You left a little love mark, and now you’re having a twinge of guilt over it. Don’t worry, the book and author both forgive you, and whoever should have the book next will be thankful that the book has character enough to have a few love marks left on it.
I’m sorry for your frustration; that’s not a peeve I have, but I also work in libraries (so I see damaged books *all the time*). I love books, but books are just like any other object: they break down, get damaged, and degrade over time. I have a library of my own, and lots of my books are damaged in various ways. It happens. If you can’t let go of that, the best thing you can probably do is buy a new copy for yourself, but working to figure out a path to letting go is probably more helpful in the long run, because you *will* run into this again.
I see the damage to my books just like little scars; I have scars, and each scar is a story. Some of them I barely remember, but they’re there. My books are the same way. Some of them have stories to tell that go beyond the words on the page. Some of them were books that got banged up because I was carrying them back and forth to school or because they were my grandmother’s cookbook or because I bought them on a trip and they got dinged while going through the airport or etc.
I can’t speak to your spectrum issues or ways you can take back power over this, but I wish you luck, and, if I can’t validate your peeve, at least maybe knowing how other people take power of it can help you reframe how you see this?
Good luck!
Could that be a copy that you keep off the shelf? Now that it’s “damaged” would it be easier for you to read and manhandle? My bookshelf books are more so decoration. They’re books I loved so much I read them multiple times so they just kind of hang out with my knick knacks lol
You may want to research Kintsugi, the Japanese art of pottery repair, and look for ways to apply the techniques to paper tears. Kintsugi is a practical but also philosophical practice that embraces and embellishes imperfections and may allow you to find joy in repairing your treasured items.
I can get the same way. What I bought for it’s beauty purposes must. Stay. Pristine.
They’re books though. They’re items we physically handle. They’re going to get wear and tear, and like another commenter said, it’s a sign of love for that item to have that wear and tear. Some of my favorite copies of books are the used ones, I can read quickly and while eating without fear.
If the issue bothers you that much, congrats, you just got yourself a *very* nice copy to try your hand at annotating, doodling in the margins, maybe trying out some sprayed edges? Once it’s no longer a financial hit to get a pretty new copy again, do. But maybe save for a special rebind instead?
I know it can be frustrating, especially the impulsiveness of your thoughts about it, but you’re human. It happens. And the book, nor anyone else, is upset about it. Free yourself, and have fun “destroying” (or in my opinion, making it yours) your pretty new book. 🙂
I think of book ‘damage’ as the book having more character and that the book is being used for what it was intended for 🙂
I’m not sure how you could ever avoid “marring” any physical book you’d actually read. Moving forward, maybe there’s a way you can differentiate between books you read and don’t mind if they suffer imperfections (used books, cheap mass market paperbacks, ebooks on kindle, etc) and books you “keep” like this one that you derive joy from just having/collecting.
OP, out of curiosity what translation/publisher edition of C&P did you buy? I’ve been obsessed with the Vintage P&V translation editions for Dostoevsky’s works that I’ve been collecting.
Pristine books are lonely books. Typically we can tell which books are the most beloved by people because of how un-prisrine they are.
Can you distance yourself from the sensory sensitivity and come back to it when you’ve got a bit of distance – maybe re-frame the way you look at it? If you can’t, just be kind to yourself and do what you’ve gotta do.
I splurged on a hardcover recently and accidentally creased the middle of the bottom of the first page and felt like a derp – it happens.
Happy birthday btw 🙂
That must be very frustrating. Your feelings are entirely valid.
If you are up for it, I would like to present an alternative way of viewing it. You are, of course, absolutely allowed to disagree.
I have a favourite woodworker. His name is George Nakashima, and he had a son who was notably destructive when the son was very young — not deliberately, but kids are kids. The son’s name was Kevin and because of this, the act of damaging something through use was called ‘kevinizing’ in the Nakashima household. It wasn’t a bad thing; things are meant to be used, and Nakashima wanted his furniture to be *used* for its purpose. That use always carries the risk of damage, but allowing it to be used–and therefore allowing it to be damaged–could, with the woodworker’s work, help “release the joy in [the tree’s] grains.” (Nakashima had a strong moral point of view about woodworking — that woodworking was a moral use of a dying tree that enabled you to walk ‘with’ the tree in allowing it to continue to serve a purpose after its weakening and death.)
So to Nakashima, damage wasn’t a defect. Damage was a sign that it was being used, correctly, to its ultimate purpose. (There are Nakashima pieces that were ‘kevinized’ that are worth tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of dollars now.)
You have damaged the book; but by using the book, you allowed it to fulfill its purpose. Yes, now it has damage, but it is still a remnant of something living, imbued with the words of a man (and likely a translator) who were once living to try to bring you joy. The book as a whole continues to exist; the tree and the author and translator also live through it, and a damaged page is just proof that you, also, have had an effect on it. It is now a dialogue, however accidental, between you and the tree, the lumberjacks, the paper makers, the author, the translator(s), and the printing house.