"Old book smell' is generated by the breakdown of cellulose and lignin in paper, which produces organic compounds.
Benzaldehyde adds an almond-like scent, vanillin smells of vanilla and ethyl hexanol has a ‘slightly floral’ scent. Ethyl benzene and toluene, which are also produced give off impart odours. These volatile organic compounds are created by reactions known as ‘acid hydrolysis’ and together make up the smell of old books along with other alcohols produced by the reactions." Read more on the science of "old book smell": HERE
Benzaldehyde adds an almond-like scent, vanillin smells of vanilla and ethyl hexanol has a ‘slightly floral’ scent. Ethyl benzene and toluene, which are also produced give off impart odours. These volatile organic compounds are created by reactions known as ‘acid hydrolysis’ and together make up the smell of old books along with other alcohols produced by the reactions." Read more on the science of "old book smell": HERE
I run my hands over the old spines and pull a random book from the shelf. Without thought, I raise it to my nose and breathe in the dusty pages before I've even read the title or the author's name.
Those are minor details that I will take into account as I decide whether or not to purchase the second-hand book, but for now, I just want to breathe in the pages, breathe in the possibilities.
I love Barnes & Noble, but I could become lost for days without a single regret at such places as The Book Garden in Bountiful or Ken Sanders in Salt Lake City. Even the books at my local thrift store seem to waft over me as soon as I enter the store. Forget the kitchenware, the clothes, the second-hand furniture--I head straight to the books.
Today, I walked out of my local thrift store with four "new" books in tow.
I don't need any more books. Heaven knows I have plenty of books on my shelves to keep me busy for years to come, but how do I say no? These used books are like orphans in need of a new set of eyes to read them, love them, and give them a home. Every time I walk away with books in my arms, I feel as though I saved them. Saved their stories from being forgotten, the author's hard work gone unnoticed or unappreciated, and given the old book with its split spine and worn pages a new chance at life.
The smell excites me. The possibilities of a story unknown excites me.
The old books have given me life, and so my book shelves will always have room for one more discarded book.
Always.
Those are minor details that I will take into account as I decide whether or not to purchase the second-hand book, but for now, I just want to breathe in the pages, breathe in the possibilities.
I love Barnes & Noble, but I could become lost for days without a single regret at such places as The Book Garden in Bountiful or Ken Sanders in Salt Lake City. Even the books at my local thrift store seem to waft over me as soon as I enter the store. Forget the kitchenware, the clothes, the second-hand furniture--I head straight to the books.
Today, I walked out of my local thrift store with four "new" books in tow.
I don't need any more books. Heaven knows I have plenty of books on my shelves to keep me busy for years to come, but how do I say no? These used books are like orphans in need of a new set of eyes to read them, love them, and give them a home. Every time I walk away with books in my arms, I feel as though I saved them. Saved their stories from being forgotten, the author's hard work gone unnoticed or unappreciated, and given the old book with its split spine and worn pages a new chance at life.
The smell excites me. The possibilities of a story unknown excites me.
The old books have given me life, and so my book shelves will always have room for one more discarded book.
Always.
