Most historians agree that Gutenberg’s invention of the movable type of printing press was the greatest invention by mankind, second only to the discovery of fire. He made it accessible to the common man, and thus spawned the greatest and most romantic of man’s attraction with the material world — Books.
In classical thought, the point of literature was said to be to “instruct and edify.” Right from the Renaissance to the Scientific Revolution, books have been the foremost media of extending man’s limits.
A point in case would be Richard Feynman’s book Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman . The book lets us delve into the brilliant mind of the Nobel Prize winning physicist while maintaining a humorous aura. The book shines light on many instances of his life, including the Manhattan Project and his doctoral thesis, his appreciation for Samba music and many funny anecdotes.
Books like these help us understand society and its myriad cultures and people. It helps us connect with events long forgotten and experience what famous celebrities and renowned people went through. In short, a book is a time machine; not the time machine that you see in movies these days. This is a purer, more delicate, more tangible and infinitely more valuable thing. It is made up of wrinkly pages and faded hardbounds; it smells of mould, but there are few better smells.
Thousand livesWhat does this time machine do, you ask? It transports you. A book sucks you into its vortex of other-worldliness where time and space are just mere coordinates, wholly manoeuvrable. It lets you go back to the eighteenth century when you read a Dickensian novel; but it also lets you zoom into the future if you were to turn over to some of H.G. Wells’ science fiction work, only for you to come back to your chair to read about Mahatma Gandhi’s experiments in his autobiography.
In short, a book has the ability to transcend. George R. R. Martin rightly said, “A reader lives a thousand lives.”As I ruminate on the marvel that is a book, my first memory is of the encyclopaedia gifted to me on my tenth birthday by my grandfather. I was spellbound by what I had in my hands.
It was a treasure trove and an entire summer flew by as I learned about Venezuela and cockroaches, truffles and football and other things. The second memory is of my first visit to a library and the overwhelming emotion I felt then, of wanting to read everything.Only a book can do that — invoke two powerful and primal experiences; nostalgia and learning. And I am grateful for it every day.
P.S. Thank the Gods Gutenberg wasn’t interested in gunpowder!
The writer is a student of M.Sc. (Hons) Economics and BE (Hons) Electronics, BITS Pilani.
