Review: The Study

January 8, 2026January 7, 2026 / rtrube54 / 2 Comments

The Study

The Study: The Inner Life of Renaissance Libraries, Andrew Hui. Princeton University Press (ISBN: 9780691243320) 2024.

Summary: Traces the Renaissance study through the lives of bibliophiles, artistic portrayals, and the darker side of bibliomania.

“When evening comes, I return to my home, and I go into my study; and on the thresh-hold, I take off my everyday clothes, which are covered in mud and mire,and I put on regal and curial robes; and dressed in a more appropriate manner I enter into the ancient courts of ancient men and am welcomed by them kindly, and there I taste the food that alone is mine, and for which I was born; and there I am not ashamed to speak to them, to ask them the reasons for their actions; and they, in their humanity, answer me; and for four hours I feel no boredom,I dismiss every affliction, I no longer fear poverty nor do I tremble at the thought of death; I become completely part of them.”

― Niccolò Machiavelli

Machiavelli describes the dream of many bibliophiles. A study, or library, where we may retreat from the world, and for a space of time, keep company with other minds, some in conversation and others, silently looking on, waiting their turn. Andrew Hui explores this dream, and its realization by Renaissance humanists in their studiolo

He begins by tracing the development from the monastic cell to the Renaissance studies of Petrarch, Machiavelli, and Montaigne. In the case of the latter, the study becomes a circular tower, with quotations inscribed on the ceiling beams. He accumulated over a thousand volumes, a stupendous number for the time. and he recognizes that each reader reads something different in the works of others. They read themselves.

Hui turns to Renaissance painters and notes the curious portrayals of both St. Jerome and the Virgin Mary as not only saints but bibliophiles. It was particularly intriguing to consider figure after figure of paintings of the Annunciation with Mary holding or reading a book. Likewise, Durer, Rembrandt and others portray Jerome laboring among his books.

There is a darker side of bibliophilia. Too many books or the wrong sort of books might lead to a special kind of insanity, bibliomanias of various sorts. One might fall into an abyss of knowledge. Hui explores this theme through the madness of Don Quixote, which began with an addiction to books. Prospero neglected his dukedom for his library where he became engrossed in sorcery, which he use to survive when exiled by his usurping brother to an island with his daughter. Finally, Hui considers Faustus whose reading brought him to despair and ultimate damnation.

Hui takes us not only on a tour of renaissance libraries, real and imagined. He also takes us on a tour of the inner life of those who sought refuge in them. He reveals the fine line between illumination and solace, and insanity and madness. Our books may take us into a deeper perception of reality. Or they may lead us down rabbit holes of unreality. I couldn’t help wonder if solitude led some into more fruitful social engagement and others into isolation. But is this a function of our books or ourselves? It was curious that the bibliomanes were all fictional, the bibliophiles were historic figures. Yet who of us, who love books, haven’t wondered about the dangers of going over the edge? Hui’s study, thus explores not only the inner sanctum of the Renaissance studiolo. He explores the inner sanctum of the dedicate reader.

Review: A Gentle Madness

November 5, 2020November 5, 2020 / rtrube54 / 4 Comments

A Gentle Madness, Nicholas A Basbanes. New York: Henry Holt, 1999.

Summary: An entertaining journey through the history and contemporary world of book collecting, and the “bibliomanes” whose passion for books formed amazing collections.

I think it is obvious that I love books. More precisely, I love reading books and talking about them. I do have a number of books in my home (and have donated or sold large numbers). I am a bibliophile, but not a bibliomane. This is the “gentle madness” Nicholas Basbanes writes about in this thick, delightful book you just don’t want to end because of the interesting stories of bibliomanes. The title comes from a description of Isaiah Thomas as being stricken with “the gentlest of infirmities, bibliomania.”

The most interesting difference between bibliophiles and bibliomanes, is that the former love reading books, while the latter collect them. The collectors usually have some focus in their collecting, from first editions of great books, to everything coming from the hand of a particular author or set of authors. I love finding books at the lowest price. Collectors pay attention to price but will spare no expense for something they want. At the very beginning, we meet a chef and restaurateur, Louis Szathmary, whose collection of cookbooks and artifacts filled sixteen semi-trailers and went to half a dozen institutions. And this is the fascinating part of the story. So often the collecting efforts of individuals accomplished what great libraries could not–forming distinctive collections that eventually enhanced these libraries’ holdings, whether Samuel Pepys, whose holdings went to Cambridge, John Harvard’s library that formed the core of the university named after him or the Huntington Library formed out of the personal collection of Henry Huntington. For that matter, Thomas Jefferson’s substantial library became the core of the Library of Congress.

Basbanes takes us through the fascinating world of booksellers, agents of buyers, and auctions of rare books. We are introduced to the high priced world of incunabula, early printed books, usually those printed before 1501. He describes a sale of Shakespeare’s First Folio, a collection of 36 plays for $2.1 million in 1989 (recently Christie’s auctioned a copy for $10 million). We learn of Ruth Baldwin who collected children’s books, eventually installing this collection at the University of Florida. Then there is Harry Hunt Ransom, who became the driving force behind the Humanities Research Center at the University of Texas. Ransom cozied up to Texas politicos awash in funds from the Texas oil industry.

One of the unavoidable realities of collecting was the death (or sometimes the insolvency) of the collector. The efforts and funds to build up a collection then required the organizing, curating, and protecting of these rare resources. Inevitably, the question arises of the disposition of the collection. We learn both about auctions that form the inheritance of future generations, and the intentional donation or sale of libraries to other institutions. In some cases, the donor came along with the library during their life as did Ruth Baldwin who oversaw the installation of her children’s books and continued to curate the collection until shortly before her death.

Perhaps the strangest story is that of the collector who stole rather than bought his collection. Stephen Carrie Blumberg amassed a collection of Americana in his home in Ottumwa, Iowa valued at roughly $20 million. It consisted of stolen materials from libraries from all over the country. His thefts involved everything from stolen or duplicated keys to crawling through ventilation systems. Eventually he was caught. Basbanes interviewed him during his trial, during which he recounted his drive to build “his” collection and how he obtained it.

This book has become something of a “classic” among book lovers. If nothing else, it is comfort to most of us who may be berated for how many books we have. If nothing else, we can point to people even more eccentric than we are. They are each uniquely eccentric, yet also incredibly focused to assemble their collections. We learn about this gentle madness that has existed as long as there were books, and even become acquainted with some through the author’s travels and discussions with them. And since this book is out of print (though listed on Amazon and other sites), you can have a taste of the fun of collecting in finding a copy. If you love books about books and those who collect them, this is a treasure trove for your own collection.

Am I A Book Hoarder?

July 14, 2016July 14, 2016 / rtrube54 / 4 Comments

The books we sold yesterday

If Wikipedia is to be believed, the answer is “no.”

The technical term is bibliomania, which Wikipedia defines as follows:

Bibliomania can be a symptom of obsessive–compulsive disorder which involves the collecting or even hoarding of books to the point where social relations or health are damaged.

My enjoyment of books may mean I have bookish friends, but my wife has no plans to leave me. I’ve not squandered the family savings nor is it impossible to walk through the rooms of my house because of my books. I can part with books, lending or gifting them (often the same thing!) to friends, or giving them to charity or selling them, as I did yesterday with a box of books. The one danger to my health is I, like many, have to guard against a sedentary life, but I do not sacrifice food, other activity or sleep for books. I don’t buy books simply for how they look. Nor do I commit crimes to obtain books (bibliokleptomania).

The general term for a person like me is a bibliophile. What I wonder is if we need another term for those who might love books a bit more than might be good, yet in ways that fall short of hoarding. I propose the term bibliohyperphilia or “the excessive love of books.” Here might be some of the signs of bibliohyperphilia (or BHP since that is a mouthful):

Very simply, we acquire more books than we read.
Our TBR stacks keep growing, perhaps into different parts of our living space.
We have more books than shelves to hold them.
We find other bibliohyperphiliacs and enable each other.
Cruising bookstores becomes a primary form of recreation.
We are tempted to read in a more driven, frantic way because of our unread books.
We have no hope in our lifetime of reading our unread books let alone re-reading books we’ve read and kept.
We do book blogs which serve as a form of justification for our reading habits! Look at how we are helping others connect with good literature!

I find that among others of similar ilk, we laugh about and pass off this behavior as our own brand of eccentricity. But to see this list in print, each item of which I have to confess as being true of me, sends up red flags that tells me I have a problem. But what is that, exactly? I think for me, the real issue can be a love for accumulating knowledge, particularly about dimensions of life I cannot directly experience. If I see a book on something that has piqued my interest, or a work of fiction I’ve heard to be good, and it can be had at an inexpensive price, I want to snap it up, even if I can’t read it for the next five years–I want to be able to sometime!

As a person of faith, to admit an inordinate love of books can be troubling. It’s not just about being a little bit weird. It raises a question for me about whether I love and trust books more than God. Convictionally, I would say an absolute “no!” But in practice…? Hmm, let’s change the subject!

Actually, let’s not. One thing worse than confessing our sins is ignoring them or being blind to them. One thing about bringing this inordinate love to God is to be reminded that not only does God forgive, God will love me back! That’s something no book can do. And that knowledge thing? A few years ago, it was pointed out to me that Colossians 2:3 says that all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden in Christ. No library, let alone an individual book can make that promise.

I know that not all who read this buy the God part, but for me this seems part of getting any inordinate love back in order. There are so many things, from sex to food and drink, to clothing and books that are good in themselves, but can be taken to excess. The reading of books can help me grow in love for God and God’s world, when part of a life ordered by and offered wholeheartedly to God.

For those looking for practicalities, my reflections have led me to these steps:

To freely lend or give books to those who ask or when the subject matter would be helpful–even if I haven’t read the book.
To either dispose of a book I’ve read or if I shelve it, make space by getting rid of another book.
I’ve begun going through unread books stored away and getting rid of those I know I won’t read but could benefit others. At first this was hard but I find myself getting more ruthless over time, and more realistic about saying “I’ll never read that.” It also helps me be more selective about the books I acquire.
I’ve thought of adding more bookshelves but perhaps the decision is simply less books, only those I really need for reference or those special books that I have come back to and re-read. We have enough shelf space for the books I really “need.”
My wife has pointed out that we don’t want our son and daughter-in-law to be looking around our home and thinking, “are we going to have to get rid of all that?” That has motivated a good amount of getting rid of books and lots of other stuff.
To not enable others or rationalize my own BHP.

I’ve written pretty honestly about my own BHP in the hopes that it will be helpful to others. I’d invite my friends to help me as well. Remind me to slow down and savor books. Encourage me to pursue other forms of recreation besides cruising bookstores. Relieve me of my books as long as this doesn’t feed a BHP problem of your own! And for those who share my faith, please keep encouraging me in the pursuit of the love and wisdom that may be found in God alone.