In the spring of 2018 a woman wrote to the desk to say that her uncle had died and that the family had three days to clear his house. He had been a pharmacist in the town for forty years. "He had some odd books," she said. "We were going to take them to the dump, but a neighbor said to try you first."
The odd books turned out to be about twelve hundred volumes on alchemy and Hermetic philosophy, shelved two deep in every room. Many were filled with penciled notes in which Aurelio Farrow had checked the chemistry of the old recipes against what he knew from the dispensary. We hired a van. Those books, now the Farrow collection, are the heart of our alchemy shelves. They survived because of one remark by one neighbor.
Why these libraries vanish
- The heirs do not share the interest. Sometimes they are embarrassed by it, and occasionally they are frightened.
- The books look worthless. Much of the most important material is cheap paperback, photocopy, or stapled pamphlet.
- The usual outlets cannot use them. A general bookseller or a charity shop has no market for a run of coven newsletters.
- There is no time. A house must be emptied in a week, and paper is the first thing to go.
- Nobody was told. Many readers in our fields were private about their interests, and no one knew what the shelves meant.
What is lost
Not the famous titles. Those can be bought again. What cannot be replaced is everything particular to one reader:
- The notes in the margins, which show how a book was actually used.
- Small-press and self-published work that was printed in a few hundred copies and never collected by any library.
- Newsletters, flyers, and letters, which are often the only record that a group existed.
- The shape of the collection: what one person, over a lifetime, thought belonged together.
- Inscriptions and bookplates that show who taught whom.
What we do
When we hear of a library at risk we ask for a list or, if it is near, we go and look. Before anything is moved we photograph the shelves, so that the original order is on record. We take what fits our collection policy, find homes for duplicates with the family's knowledge, and mark each book with a small label naming the collection it came from. Annotations are noted in the catalog. Private papers that name living people are restricted.
Since 2013 we have taken in all or part of twenty-three personal libraries, from a single box of newsletters to the Farrow books.
Planning for your own books
- Make a list. A rough one will do. Photographs of each shelf are better than nothing.
- Decide what should stay together. Tell your heirs which books and papers form a whole.
- Write down your wishes. Keep the note with your will and give a copy to whoever will settle your affairs. For anything with legal force, consult a lawyer.
- Ask the recipient now. No library can take everything. Ask what would be wanted, and whether a bequest would be accepted, while you can still discuss it.
- Label the boxes of paper. Write on the outside: "Do not discard. These are records of" and say what, with a name to contact.
- Say what is private. If you hold material under an obligation of secrecy, leave clear instructions for its return or its destruction.
- Tell someone in the family that the books matter. One sentence, said once, is often the difference.
If you are clearing a house now
Do not sort first, and do not throw out the paper. Photograph the shelves as they stand. Look inside the books for letters and notes. Then write to a specialist library before you call in a bookseller. We will gladly advise anyone, anywhere, whether or not the books are likely to come to us.
How to reach us, and what we can and cannot accept, is set out under Give Books or Time.