Books

The Jews are called “The People of the Book.” Someone might call me “the person who buys books and doesn’t read most of what’s in them.” Or, as my wife says, “Why are these books all piled on the dining room table?” 

I’ve argued, “If I put them where I can’t see them, I won’t read them.” She then says, “Name the last book you finished?” Winner and still champion.

Even if you don’t read most of them, owning books is still important. To me, a home without books is like a home without air. According to multiple studies, children who grow up around books and see people reading might become wiser. I feel wiser by owning. 

Books can transport you from one world to another without the need for an airline ticket. They can also take you out of your head when it’s on the attack. 

If I see someone reading a book, they are doing something important. Enter my home, and you will believe you have entered the home of a bibliophile or are about to converse with a rabbinic scholar or someone with the depth of a Texas oil well. But none of that is even close. A preface or introduction, I bolt from. I buy, I try, I fail. I pray that God at least gives partial credit for the attempt.

I love owning books and being surrounded by them. Books are a blanket. They warm me and my home. They are an extra layer of wall. When read correctly, a book can offer protection from stupidity, but only if the reader has a conscience and moral code. The books I buy ask a lot from the reader. Most offer a better way to live for both body and soul.  

What I also like about books is that they sit patiently, many times for years and years. I long ago realized why the jacket is called the dust cover. I’ve removed a full vacuum bag’s dust from many covers. 

When you pick an idle one, they never guilt you, “Where were you?” Sometimes, after thumbing through them, I wonder why I initially stopped reading on page 6, especially with blurbs like, “If you have only read one book your whole life, this is that book.” If you reread a favorite book, it’s like a friend repeating a story you’ve heard many times that you love hearing again.

Browsing a bookstore is a pleasure. There are so few bookstores still standing that it is painful. Barnes & Noble didn’t close stores because of smash-and-grabs. No one pulled a gun at The Strand bookstore in Manhattan and demanded everyone get on the floor, then quickly gathered all the copies of “Lord of the Flies,” jumped into a waiting car, and zoomed off. Bukowski, maybe, “Lord of the Flies,” never. Lonely people love bookstores.

Books, like everything in life, need mazel. My friend Joe says even Torah scrolls need mazel. Most don’t get picked all year. Some sit in the dark, waiting to be read or danced with. Same with books, most don’t get picked. 

  In old age, books keep your mind active and, if only briefly, help to relieve the thoughts of your ultimate demise.  If you can’t physically climb Mt Fuji, read about someone who has. 

John Adams said, “I read my eyes out and can’t read half enough … The more one reads, the more one sees we have to read.”

Watching young mothers at my local libraries with three or more kids take out a wheelbarrel full of books on Friday afternoons is incredible. 

The depth of what’s out there is breathtaking, from modern-day writers like the essays of Joseph Epstein to 16th-century Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) to genius rabbis like Abraham Joshua Heschel and The Rebbe, to biographies of the great people past and present. I own a gold mine; it’s the books on my bookshelves. Digging little by little each day, a word here, a sentence there, a moment to ponder, a pen to underline, you’re almost always guaranteed to find a new nugget — a new way to see life.

Digging little by little each day, a word here, a sentence there, a moment to ponder, a pen to underline, you’re almost always guaranteed to find a new nugget — a new way to see life. 

My wife is a block away, and I must hurry to get all the books off the dining room table.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”