For years as a university student I have been told that it is okay to damage your books.
That’s not the language my profs use, of course. “Mark up your books!” they cry. “Fold pages, scribble in the margins, add tabs! Highlight as necessary!”
And I understand. On a conscious, thoughtful level, I get it… especially in the context of essays. It is hard to go through a book and find that one quote you remember from your read-through but can’t recall quite where it was… highlights or arrows or whatever would be a huge help!
But I can’t do it. Going all the way back to elementary school when I was finally old enough to read on my own and I would sit in our living room on the couch or an armchair with “The Hobbit” or (eventually) the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy and read for hours and hours… from that point to today, 30-something years later… and I still can’t do it.
I encourage anyone and everyone to write in your books! They’re yours! There is literally no reason not to write in your books unless you specifically have borrowed them or they are bookmarked (ha) for somebody else eventually… and even then! The notes you leave for yourself, as long as they don’t render the book unreadable, could be useful… or at the very least heartwarming, as people in the future look upon your insights into whatever work you have marked up.
But not for me. I couldn’t even tell you why. It just… feels… wrong? I guess? If I had to guess I probably ruined one (or several) of my brother’s books or comics as a kid and he disciplined me harshly enough that it stuck until today. Just a guess, but I suppose it feels the most likely explanation. Maybe one day I’ll get over the hangup… I have just purchased some lovely book tabs, and I think I’m going to use them as a gentle introduction to the fine art of marking up a book.
Hope everyone out there is staying safe and healthy!