Among my favorite types of books in my collection are ex-lib books—or as I like to think of them, retired library books. I received one in the mail recently, Force of Nature: The Life of Linus Pauling by Thomas Hager, and handling it reminded me of why I love this form of book.
For one thing, they are generally hefty. I don't know if the books sold to libraries are manufactured to be more durable than the average book, but they feel durable. Quite a few of the Isaac Asimov books I've collected over the years are ex-lib books and they all have that same heft to them1.
Ex-lib books frequently come with a protective coating over the dust jacket. This offers two pleasant conveniences. First, it keeps the dust jacket from sliding off when reading the book2. Second, it makes a delightfully crunchy sound when opening and closing the book. That sound, to me, is the sound of reading.
Used books have a history. This is part of the joy of collecting used books. They frequently tell stories and those stories are sometimes just as interesting as the text itself. Almost all ex-lib books have some kind of provenance to them. Opening to the back of my new Pauling biography, I can see that it once belonged to the Vance Granville Community College in North Carolina. It is even stamped with a birthday of sorts, January 26, 19963.
Unlike many used books, ex-lib books tend to be well-kept. There's rarely writing or highlighting in the book, which is sometimes a disappointment, but at the same time, it is nice to know that people respect library books enough to leave them intact for the next reader.
I've never counted how many ex-lib books I have on my shelves. But there are more on the way. Today, in fact, I am expecting Uncertainty: The Life and Science of Werner Heisenberg by David C. Cassidy. Like its title, its arrival is uncertain. It was supposed to arrive yesterday, and now is scheduled to arrive today. I can track its position, but not its momentum. But soon enough, the wave function will collapse and the book will be in my hands.