This book is exactly what I expected it to be — a collection of lovely, meandering reflections and reminiscences about books, reading, and libraries. The title is a play on Benjamin's essay, of course, and these meditations are somewhat Benjaminian in nature. I have been interested, of late, in the difference between so called auto-theory and what is often just called the essay, and this definitely seems to be more in the vein of the latter, but that still doesn't help me get a better grip on the categories!
There is something about this collection that feels very "old school," but not in an oblivious, gross sort of way. There's an explicit shout-out to the need for a national library to have books on LGBTQ history, for instance, and other moments that mark the author's more progressive political orientations, though there are also complaints about digital culture, distraction, etc. It doesn't feel curmodgeonly, I guess is my point, though it's definitely written in a very classic sort of way.
Nothing in it surprised me, but it was a very pleasant read.
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