It is a cute idea and a really cute turkey.
Then you get to the comments.
I know, I know. Never read the comments. I really did quite by accident, but either way, I read them. And boy howdy! People were becoming unhinged.
Why?
Because this project involved the destruction of a book.
I will be the first to admit that I love books. I mean, I really love them. The look of them. The smell of a new book. The feel of the edges of the pages. (I especially love a book with deckle edges.) Or some of the newer publishings that have color on the edges of the page. I love looking at the binding, seeing if the book is glued or sewn.
I also love well-loved books. I am the person who will write in the margins of a book. It helps me, especially if I am ever planning to reread. (And not just books I teach from; my copy of Blue Like Jazz is positively filled with notes.)
However
Books are things. Special things. Wonderful things. But things, nonetheless. And physical things have a useful life span. They are created, they are used, and then, essentially, they reach the end of that useful life.
We try to preserve things that are rare or personal or done by hand, but generally speaking, books, like other things, can reach the end of their lifespan.
And that is not bad. Or evil. Or wrong. It is just life.
When people are nervous about the idea of pulling old books from the library, I try to gently remind them that we are not the Library of Congress. Our mission isn't to house every book. Nor is it to forever keep every book we ever get.
We don't have that kind of space, and every old, worn-out, mouldering book on the shelf is taking the space that could be housing a book that a student really wants.
If a book hasn't been checked out since 1968 (I came across one of those a few weeks ago), it probably needs to go. If a book is incorrect or outdated or in poor repair, it just needs to go.
And that is OK.
And if that is the case, what better usage than living on as a cool, decorative turkey?
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