The Index of Stolen Books
The thing is, it doesn’t feel like stealing. To call it stealing would be too sordid. You’re convinced that you’re restoring sense to an irrational universe. Why is that book on that shelf when, if justice and fairness truly exist, it would rightfully be yours? Why leave it there to be pawed over by cretins who don’t deserve to read it, much less turn its pages? To have those hallowed words register on the optic nerves of some creature who can’t read without moving his lips! It’s an abomination! Might as well smear your hands with peanut butter and jelly and touch Leonardo’s notebooks.
Or maybe you just want it. You have to have it, but you don’t have the money, and by the time you get the money it might be gone forever. Or maybe you’ve lived an exemplary life and you just want to do something bad, but nothing so tacky as to shoplift a shirt or a comb. A book distinguishes you from (other) petty thieves: you’re not filching a mere object, but a life with paper for flesh and ink for blood.
OF COURSE IT’S A CRIME. But at the exact moment when you casually take the book, slip it into your bag, and walk out the door, it feels like a mission. You are all that stands between the forces of enlightenment and the hordes of ignorance. You are a knight of the printed word.
You are a thief rationalizing your offence.
Here is your chance at expiation. Confess and be shriven. (If your pseudonym does not provide enough concealment, attribute the crime to “My friend”. My own friends I conceal under the names of royal houses, historical and science-fictional.)
Arisugawa-no-miya snitched The Complete Works of V.I. Lenin from Erehwon Bookstore in Katipunan in 1972. He assures me that Erehwon and Katipunan Avenue both existed in 1972.
The House of Zogu (royal family of Albania, possibly related to Florante at Laura), stole The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich from a bookstore. “It was a stupid, stupid thing to do since it was a hardcover book and more than a thousand pages thick, with a giant swastika on the cover. I just walked out with it on Avenida, Rizal, and forever abjured a life of crime. Never read the damn thing.”
Hohenzollern-Singmaringen swiped The Rape of Tamar from the Harvard library. The girl he was seeing at the time made him give it back. He never spoke to her again.
Thyssen-Bornemisza stole a Spanish-English Gideon Bible from a hotel room in Madrid. “I needed to work on my Spanish,” he explains. “That’s not stealing,” I point out. “The Gideons wanted you to have it.” “But you’re supposed to put it back in the drawer.” He insists it was stealing.
Hohenstaufen and Swabia took T.H. White’s The Sword in the Stone from the Assumption grade school library. “I felt that it was mine to begin with—because it WAS mine to begin with.” She had left her book in school, and someone put it in the library. It still had her name on it, so she simply stole it back. Later she pilfered Economic Cooperation in ASEAN from another library, and is still wracked with guilt—not at the theft, but at the choice of reading matter.
Fushimi-no-miya made off with a Stanford University library copy of Little Brown Brother by Leon Wolff.
Borbon y Battenberg pilfered Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez from a bookstore “dahil sa pagmamahal ko kay Marquez. Gusto ko lang siyang kunin dahil wala akong pambili. Gaya ni Marquez, nagnanakaw ako dahil ganid ako sa kaalaman.”
House Corrino took The Philippine-American War, compiled by Fred Cordova, from the library of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, but insists it was not stealing because they were going to throw out the books anyway.
Harkonnen-Atreides pinched The Collected Stories of John Cheever from a bookstore.
Fenring and Rabban hatched an elaborate plan to get free books. They managed to convince a foundation that their thesis room in the UP Department of Chemistry had a real library. For years they regularly received donations of chemistry and science-fiction books. I was a happy beneficiary of this scheme.
Confess.
P.S. “Too bad the Index doesn’t include perps who were actually caught. Are they now famous politicians or CEOs who have moved on to greater public larcenies (after trying to steal Archie Comics), or are they now lost souls, potential laureates who failed at stealing the one book that could have changed their lives? The evidence may still be found in fading mugshots scotchtaped to the broken glass doors of bookstores that closed years ago.” – The House of Zogu
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
October 4th, 2006 at 01:15
I wish I could say I nicked it, but our office has a bookshelf with a collection that’s free for anyone to pick out of and read. If they wish to keep the books, it’s no skin off anyone’s back. One day someone left a copy of David Sedaris’s Naked. I didn’t find it fitting to see it merely gathering dust at that shelf, so I took it and mailed it out to one of my book-crazy friends in San Francisco.
October 4th, 2006 at 03:55
The Silver Pencil by Alice Dalgliesh. It was my book report in grade 4. I’d had my share of book stealing (i.e. borrowing the book, forgetting to return it or losing it, which ends up usually to paying for the book just in time for clearance/giving of report cards), but this was one bookI was happy to let my parents pay for XD
October 4th, 2006 at 04:58
I swear that I didn’t mean to forget, and thought indeed that it had passed into my possession by procesess elemental. But there is a certain volume of poetry by one Baudelaire by whose whoresome muses so did entrap this humble servant of the word, that it remained close and read thence forgotten in a box of my keeping, and as God is great (or at least really big), I will return it someday, somewhere, somehow.
affixed in electronic blood
Don Juan Tenorio
October 4th, 2006 at 06:31
“My friend” stole an almanac from the Assumption library. Her crush at the time had asked her if she had one. Of course, she felt too guilty and embarrassed to lend it to him. So, the almanac became useless aside from acting as a doorstop.
October 4th, 2006 at 10:54
Interesting how you have rounded out the book “thieves”. Reminded me of my cherished dream when I was still young and happy – to break into a great, big library and carry off those titles that they kept under glass cabinets, locked and keyed. In reality, I borrowed books, read and kept them until the very last day indicated on the borrower’s card and then gave them back. I grew up and now possess a borrower’s ID – something I can still derive pleasure from nowadays.
October 4th, 2006 at 13:15
A boardmate oftentimes bring home books about IT and networking from his office, most of the time, without permission or similarly portrayed by what the post above suggests. Once, he took home a travel book which I immediately borrowed and haven’t returned until now. (Now that’s double jeopardy) By the way, he works in an electronics manufacturing plant which made me wonder, “what on earth is it doing there anyway?” Cheers!
October 4th, 2006 at 16:35
“My friend” stole her dad’s “Xaviera Goes Wild” by Xaviera Hollander when she was just eight or nine years old. (does stealing from one’s dad count?) It had an interesting cover so she took it. (she later realized that she’s bisexual). It was the first book she ever read. Now that she’s 28, she’s wondering where she hid it.
October 4th, 2006 at 17:12
Two weeks into my college freshman year, i stole The Catcher in the Rye from the university library. Hi-jinks that could have meant expulsion a la Caulfield had it gone haywire, the chances of which were fairly high due to a mandatory bag inspection at the exit performed by the most athletic-looking guy in the library staff.
I’d always heard of and read of the book but never had a chance to actually read the book. The library in the parochial high school I came from didn’t have it and buying something you could in theory borrow from your relatives was unheard of in my family.
One day “digression” got mentioned in English class and the discussion quickly digressed to Holden Caulfield and ding! Went straight to the library after and read it in one sitting (which I’d never done before or since with any other book). With all those thoughts on isolation and adulthood and of my own kid sister freshly swirling in my head, how was I expected to walk out of there without that book in my possession on a permanent basis?
I stuffed it in the outer pocket of my backpack and headed out. I didn’t even take deep breaths or do anything to psych myself up to the task. I walked straight to the exit and held my bag out. Mr. Athlete/Inspector unzipped the main compartment, put his hand in, moved stuff around and took a really good look inside. Found nothing, zipped up the bag and handed it over to me. Didn’t even notice the alien-like bulge in the outer pocket.
I walked out of there and the book was mine forever. Thank God for jocks.
October 4th, 2006 at 21:11
my friend and i stole Lasher by Anne Rice at national bookstore when we were still in high school. 3rd year to be exact. It was fun. That was the beginning of my addiction to Anne Rice.
October 4th, 2006 at 21:14
If you steal a book (and get caught), do you get charged with theft or plagiarism?
October 5th, 2006 at 03:08
I don’t know how you guys do it. I’ve only read 2 books in my life, not counting the school textbooks, which I only read partially.
I, however, have on average been watching 8 hours of television everyday since I was 5 years old. And we had cable since I was 10. So that makes as smart, if not smarter, as the rest of you.
October 5th, 2006 at 10:22
Oh lots. Mostly hippie dippy stuff. Krishnamurti and Henry Miller from National Bookstore and the old Alemar’s. Tried to smuggle out some Jung or James Legge from the UP Library but I couldn’t get past the inspection and the only way I could get the book through the diagonally barred windows was to rip off the pages one by one and slip them through, so no. Stopped life of crime only when I got stared down by a house detective. Resumed when I began working and added office property to my stockpile at home – books on pop music, a 1000-page dictionary, management manuals I thought would increase my political wattage in the workplace but didn’t.
October 5th, 2006 at 15:17
had friends steal Cold mountain in the high school library for me, but i never got to read it.
October 6th, 2006 at 12:37
Am I a heartless pilferer? A big time sociopath? An inveterate cheat? A spineless ne’er-do-gooder?
I don’t know what you’re going to make of this but I am pretty much engaged in an interesting form of book filching. And I am no respecter of time or place. Just get me to a bookshop and I assure you I could walk out of the place with a couple or three important printed matters in my hand. All with proofs of purchase.
I simply change the price sticker to the least possible price I could find waiting to be plucked out of misery from yet another glorious book cover. Usually they’re stickered on the most important part of the cover you wonder why of all places must they ruin that part of the book where Melanie Marquez had malapropistically launched one of her many stupid quotes on. But I’m digressing.
The thing is, I get a special kind of rush whilst in the midst of this rare avocation.
But how does one do it?
First you saunter into your bookshop of choice with an air of self-worth uncommon among Mills & Boon collectors. If you can’t effect Johnny Depp’s Dean Corso in Roman Polanski’s The Ninth Gate, at least put on a unflappable-even-in-the-midst-of-fire-serious mien with piercing stares to boot.
Once inside, you take an unhurried scan of the entire collection. Feel the company and relish the air of eclectic isms wadding about you – Steinbeck, Hesse, Libowitz, Nietschze, Huxley, Nick Joaquin, Swaggart, Dolly Parton, the works.
Take charge of your fate. This is your world begging for your magnificence. So make it as conscious an act as possible to create an impression that you are the force to reckon with when it comes to printed matters. You are the Baron of Books, the Maverick of Magazines, the Wizard of Printed Words, or the Prophet of Paperbacks.
Now move to your chosen shelf, say fiction. Again do a quick scan. See that first edition? Uhm, you can’t just pass on an eBayable-therefore-must-have-stuff like that, can you?
After feigning reflective reading of the first page, you may now proceed with the essential price check. Usually the sticker is on the back side. Funny how they chose to stick it on the author’s photo. Smile. You have another cottage industry skill waiting at home to remedy the sticky problem with.
But it is not-so-within-your-budget yet, right? So take a deep breath. Slip the book back into place then move on to another shelf. Remember, you’re not looking for a particular book this time. You’re going to look for that dirt-cheap price now. Just a tip: glossy covers come in handy. They do not absorb much of the sticker goo more than newsprints do. So they’re easier to peel.
Yet caution is paramount here. Peeling requires concentration because some stickers are so designed with panels which means you can’t just peel one off in one graceful yank.
Good thing with sticker switching is you can gloriously choose your desired price range depending on your purchasing power at the moment.
Yes, now it can be told – I have the entire Library of Congress weighing down the makeshift shelves on the walls of my room…at a dirt-cheap collective price.
Scared of getting caught red handed by house sleuths in plain clothes? Take covers. Yes, literally.
October 29th, 2006 at 21:08
YOU Jessica! You made me do it! YOu made me steal Return of the Natives by Thomas Hardy! Because you made read The Catcher in the Rye! Remember Holden likes Eustacia Vye?
October 30th, 2006 at 12:21
Hail all ye biblioklepts!
Everyday, i fight the temptation to add another to the list–The Two Revolutions (French and Industrial); The Feudal Society, vol.1; and The Sexual Life in Ancient Rome (note that i have not mentioned the authors cause together with the titles, might ring a louder bell on the original owners’ ears)–with The Night Flight by Antoine de Saint Exupéry, a collection of essays on his experiences as a pilot. Then there’s The…
You validate me! It does not mean i would go on to become an infinite serial biblioklept. I might stop at 10?
October 31st, 2006 at 10:35
i like that one, biblioklepts…
well i did have an incident or two…grade school in a catholic school run by nuns…with the patron saint’s portrait following your every move…i kept a US storybook collection…it was a magical experience for me reading that book…i learned a lot from that book…i was grade 4 or 5…thinking that was the thickest book ever…it was a donated book by the way…
December 23rd, 2006 at 16:29
unintentionally, i took a book of idioms from the national bookstore. while waiting for a friend, i was reading that book and when my friend finally arrived, we went out. then, i realized that i was still clutching the book. i felt so guilty coz i was really planning to buy it. i thought of returning the book but my friend discouraged me coz it would just be too embarassing and they might not buy my story… and because of too much guilt, i didn’t even read the book…