Books Lost in Transition
As a librarian, beer geek, sometimes dealer in old, odd or obscure books, and plodding family historian with an interest in the scandinavian past, I stumbled upon a title that seemed to epitomize and encapsulate all of my interests.
Anthropologist Odd (pronounced like Odt) Nordland's Brewing and Beer Traditions of Norway, promised to provide fuel for all of these avocations within the covers of one slim tome. The title is often referred to in sources on the historical brewing of beer in Europe as a key source for information on the traditional brewing of beer.
My first move was to search the world's largest library catalog Worldcat. I discovered there were roughly fifty copies in existence in libraries on earth. Even with the evident dearth of copies, I was hopeful I might be able to order from another library and find out what gems of knowledge this book contained. After several tries, this avenue proved to be unproductive.
For the last several years, I have scoured the internet (and by extension the planet) in hopes of finding a copy. Finally, about a month ago, one popped up on the radar in San Francisco, being sold by and independent book dealer for a price that I won't disclose. I buckled and paid more than I should have for a book that I knew only by pedigree and reputation. As noted by the seller, it was an ex-library copy that had probably been weeded (library speak for pulling out of the collection) in the recent past.
After a few days, it arrived and proved to be even better than I had imagined. I look forward to pulling odd bits of historical knowledge out of it very soon.
Then I started thinking. What does it mean when there are fifty-one copies of a book on the planet? What if it is a book that is certainly still under some sort of byzantine copyright regime that will keep it from the likes of the Internet Archive, Project Gutenberg or Google, yet obscure enough that it may never have the inertia to be republished? What happens to these books as we are in the midst of a transition to a new digital future? I'm sure there are countless titles like this on a million different topics that are languishing and possibly disappearing as librarians around the world discard physical copies without any coordination on a national or global level to ensure that the last copy doesn't end up disappearing into the bowels of a San Francisco bookshop never to be seen again.
Possibly, there will be humanists in the distant future (reminiscent of their medieval progenitors working in dusty monastery libraries) who will unearth the hidden knowledge of the ancients by combing the dusty corners of a civilization that has left significant pieces of its past behind.
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