I never fancied myself a serious book collector. The books I own are to share and to read. Some have sentimental value: books I was given, books I inherited from my family, books that remind me of people and times. The books are worth a lot to me, but none of them are particularly rare or collectible.
One of the few exceptions is a book a good friend gave me earlier this year, The Red Book: Liber Novus by C.G. Jung. It’s the large format facsimile edition. I’d dreamed of owning a copy ever since I first heard of it, shortly after the book was published in 2009.
The Red Book is unlike any other book I possess, and not just because of the content. The book occupies a whole shelf of a bookcase behind my desk. I like to look at it when I’m taking a break from work. It’s uplifting in the way beautiful objects can be.