Martha

Nothing is ever really silent in a library. Murmurs and whispers that float above the heads of people. Indistinct conversations, scratching of pens on papers, flicks of pages in books… 

Martha worked in one such a library, for many years. Shushing those who broke the silence; breaking it herself, the whole room would turn icy cold, and the silence would resume. Everybody flipped their head back over their book and Martha returned her concentration to her chip cards, sitting almost invisible behind a bookshelf. She wasn´t the typical old grumpy librarian… She always wore fancy dresses, looking trim and spruce. She knew a lot about every topic one could throw at her, and she always had good answers.

The very first time I saw her, she mistook me for somebody who was applying for a job in the library.

-"Do you have training or experience?" she asked.

-"I love books." I shyly joked.

-"Why are you laughing?" she continued in a serious tone, "Do you have the ability to love books as they deserve? Your presence in a library should be one of reverence, not entertainment!”

I tried to look at her as earnestly as I could, declaring that I just needed some information about a particular work.

That was a long time ago. Now Martha lives in a nursing home. She feels well there. It´s a very clean home, with no odors, a pleasant décor: colorful but not overwhelming. She socializes with the other residents and enjoys a purposeful living by having endless conversations about her favorite topic: books.

I visit her once a month, and we talk, or rather she does the talking for the most part.

-"Books are part of the natural order of things." Martha says while enjoying a cup of tea.

- “You never told me, how you came to be a librarian?” I ask her.

-"Love!" she answers confidently. "Love of books is a necessary qualification for one who had to care for books, as I have done all my life.”

- “And what were the books you loved about? I ask. Though I know her preferences all too well, I also know she so delights in finding a listening ear, to heed her love for the written word.

-"Oh, dear girl," she says lovingly, "A book is an object of interest and affection. You have to love books in the same way you love people." 

"First of all, a human being, of course, has an ego and a soul. A book also has a soul. The words written in it, the ideas or facts outlined in it, however independent of their influence on the printed page, make the book what it is. 

The material part of a book, its body: its paper and its ink, are only necessary to make the contents of the book, good to the eye of the beholder. Just as people´s clothing has a function of protection or decoration or both. The body of a book makes it stand out.”

Martha enjoyed talking about her beloved books, and I looked at her with a mix of interest and admiration.

-"Do you see child?" she continued, "Like a human being, a book is made up of a soul, body, and clothing. An entity to be loved."

"Here, let me pour you another cup of tea. Then I'll explain." Her eyes begin to glow.

- “You know, the belle of the ball may be surrounded by admirers, but she wouldn't be if she was dressed in rags. One cannot really love a pretty face if there are no spiritual or mental qualities behind it. And yet this kind of affection is inferior, there's no denying that, right?"

I shook my head, and Martha continued contentedly:

-"The same phenomenon can be found in books."

-"How do you mean, Martha." I asked.

-" Well, there are those who love books for the beautiful cover of the book. They rejoice in its lavish binding and artistic lighting, or the fine paper and careful typography. Those are inferior book lovers." She whispered the last part behind her hand. " One can love a book for its dress, the other for its physical perfection, but neither care primarily for its content: its soul."

I believe that Martha is not just talking about books, but that she sees a certain person in her mind's eye as she tells me this.

-"The true lover is he who loves the soul, who looks beyond clothing and cherishes physical qualities such as noble character, lofty purpose, a gentle disposition, and a strong intellect."

-"Those qualities that makeup personality." I supplemented her.

-"Indeed!" she laughs, holding up her teacup in a toast. "That's the essence of the writer, isn't it?"

I nodded my head.

- “And yet a collector of fine bindings and rare editions is called a book lover." I can hear a somber note in her voice.

-"The real book lover wants to penetrate to the soul of his book. But so, few understand that. I mean the false lovers."

"Shall we go for a walk, Martha?" I ask. "It's such nice weather." I can see something sad in her eyes. I hope the spring sun can conjure the jolly Martha back up.

-"Good idea." she says as she stands up.

- “-"Don´t get me wrong." she says to me, admiring the blossoming cherry trees, "The love of a book has many advantages. A book can be embodied as we please. He who loves it, loves it for its content." She put her arm in mine and sighed:

-"Love for the universal spirit of humanity enshrined in print."

- “Are you okay, Martha?” I ask her.

-"That kind of love for books is pre-eminently a mark of a civilized man." she laughs a little shyly. She takes a deep breath and continues on a happier note:

-"Ah, do you know what it is, dear? Some people confuse the love of books with the love of reading." -Martha starts looking for something in her small purse. After rummaging around in it, she pulls out a mirror and lipstick. She smacks her lips after applying lipstick and looks at me with a beaming smile.

-"And how are you? Do you like the work you do?" she asks with genuine interest.

-"Yes!" I say, "I find great satisfaction in what I do." Martha squeezes my arm for a moment and happily walks on in the beautiful garden of the nursing home.

-"Everything you do, do it with Amore! That is a fundamental necessity for a successful life." she giggles. 

-"Amore!" I repeat in a forced accent, "and a delightful book. What would the world be without books?"

Martha knows them all: from the Bible and Shakespeare to the latest novel. Martha takes them all with equal eagerness.

-"Amen!" Martha says solemnly. “Vieni, beviamo qualcosa e brindiamo all'amore!"

-“Oh my word, Martha.” I smile, “I didn´t know you knew Italian.” 

-"Ah, I still have so much to tell you. Come on, honey," she says, eagerly pulling me forward." Have I already told you how I taught children the love of books...?”

I follow closely as she chatters happily, drinking in the beauty of the trees in full bloom.