In Defense of Underlining in My Books

I love books - the ones made with paper.  Kindles and Nooks are fine devices, and I sometimes read fiction on my Amazon Fire.  I know these e-books save trees, have encouraged lots of people to read and have been a boon for self-published authors.  I’m pleased with that.  But they have one major disadvantage I cannot overlook.  I can’t write on them.

I love underlining in books I’m reading.  I understand this is abhorrent to many, my wife included.  Even worse, for them, I like writing notes on the pages of a book that has stimulated me.  Sometimes, in the margins of a page, I’ll write a thought generated by something the author said.  Sometimes I’ll write a question aroused by her words or a note to look up something.  I know that pristine book scolds view this as desecration, not to mention how ugly it makes the book look.  After all, who’d want such a marked up tome when I’m through with it or send it to the local library fund-raising book fair?  But hear me out before you judge.

When I underline, I’m doing it to help me recall a passage (and later find it quickly).  The process of underlining is telling my brain: this is important.  That helps me remember not just that particular passage but the thread of the author’s thinking.  I am, thus, interacting with the author not just being a passive recipient of his words.  It’s like we’re having a conversation (and sometimes I’ll actually track down the author to invite a real conversation).

Underlined sentences allow me to pick up the book later, sometimes even years later, and quickly reconstruct the author’s argument without having to read the whole book again.  It’s like I’ve created my own “executive summary” or “Cliff Notes” version. 

I will often type my underlined passages into my computer (with quotations around them, of course) in a file for that book.  I can later call up this file when doing research without the necessity of actually picking up the hard copy of the book.  Sometimes I put underlined passages in a separate book of my own making.  This is a practice called commonplacing.   A commonplace is a book that contains words from others’ writings, such as a sentence, passage, poem, quote or proverb.  People have created their personal commonplace books since antiquity.  Thomas Jefferson, for example, had both a Legal Commonplace Book and a Literary Commonplace Book, both of which have been a boon to those who study his life and work.  A commonplace book is a wonderful source and stimulus for later thinking and writing.

Underlining and writing on the pages of a book also makes that book truly mine.  I have personalized it, making it more valuable to me.  A good book is not just a visual and tactile experience but an emotional one.  What psychologists label the “endowment effect” tells us that we value things we own over those we don’t – and we value them even more when we have participated in creating them. 

Sometimes I’ll loan a book or give it away.  I like to think my underlined sentences and marginal notes help new owners get more value out of my relinquished books – and maybe even stimulated their conversation with themselves, as in “why did he underline that” or “what the heck did he mean by that note?”  I find this myself when I’ve obtained a book in which someone has done what I do.  Historians love famous people’s marginal book notes, pouring over them for further insights on their subjects.

Now, I do observe some moral and aesthetic limits to underlining.  I will not use highlighters; you can’t erase them and the ink often bleeds through the page.  I will not use a pen because it’s a permanent mark and, who knows, the next user of the book may want to erase a lot of what I’ve done.  I will not write nasty comments about the book or the author, even if I disagree with some of what’s written.  It’s not likely he or she would ever see such comments, but I wouldn’t want others to see them and think what a cynic or ingrate I am (while also thinking “well, you haven’t even written a book”).

I recognize that many will disagree with these thoughts and continue to view my visual destruction of books as a violation of decency.  Some may agree with a few of these arguments and, if that is the case, feel free to use them in your own defense if you are criticized by the book police in your life.  I’ll simply end by saying that, in these times where “You can’t take my freedom away” is such a popular refrain, I’ll insist on my freedom to underline.  At least it won’t give anyone COVID.  At the same time, feel free to print this blog, underline the parts that bother you the most and write on the margins what a dolt you think I am.

Photo Credit: Mathilde Langevin at unsplash.com