In the vast Library there are no two indentical books. […] The Library is total and […] its shelves register all the possible combinations of the twenty-odd orthographical symbols (a number which, though extremely vast, is not infinite): in other words, all that it is given to express, in all languages. Everything: the minutely detailed history of the future, the archangels’ autobiographies, the faithful catalogue of the Library, thousands and thousands of false catalogues, the demonstration of the fallacies of those catalogues, the demonstration of the fallacy of the true catalogue, the Gnostic gospel of Basilides, the commentary on that gospel, the commentary on the commentary on that gospel, the true story of your death, the translation of every book in all languages, the interpolation of every book in all books.

— from Jorge Luis Borges’ “The Library of Babel”

Deciding how to connect my particular obsessions to our series on the Deadly Sins was a piece of cake when it came to Greed. Walking through the Vancouver Public Library’s stacks, with the freighted shelves rising high above my head towards the ceiling, I feel as if I’ve stumbled into an anteroom of Borges’s paradise: an infinity of books and me at the centre of it. I will readily admit to greed: I would want to own them all.

According to Pope Gregory the Great, greed is “the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual”. I will not dispute this definition for, when it comes to matters of Sin, I can think of no greater expert than the Catholic Church.¹ But in my own defence I feel obliged to ask: what could be more spiritual than the attempt to seek union with the infinite?

As an additional defense I would also ask the judge to admit into evidence Exhibit #1…

For Christmas two years ago my father gave me a slim, worn volume bound in embossed green cloth, with the title — The Apprentice — given in gold lettering on the spine. The title page elaborates: “Affectionate Hints to a Young Friend Entering Upon the Business of Life”.

The book is one of those small miracles of the publishing world, having no author listed: it was an offering from The Religious Tract Society of London. The title page gives their address (“Depositories, 56, Paternoster Row, 65, St. Paul’s Churchyard, and 164, Picadilly”), and finishes with the proud note that the tracts are “Sold by the Booksellers”, something which must have been an attempt to lend them an air of legitimacy that they would not otherwise have had.

No date is given — the practice of listing a book’s printing history (publication date, edition and printing number etc) did not become standard practice until the middle of this century — but there is an inscription on the flyleaf which helps: “William Hayward, From His Uncle Henry Hayward, June 20th 1907”. I am thus the fourth generation of Hayward hands to hold the book; the fourth to profit from the invaluable lessons contained therein.

Twenty-eight “affectionate hints” (in the form of letters addressed to “My dear Charles”) are listed in the Table of Contents, and they cover such useful subjects as “Servile employments”, “Misemployment of leisure time” (and the companion piece: “Employment of leisure time”), and “Affability” (for the benefit of those readers anxiously seeking guidance on affability at this very instant I will quickly note that The Religious Tract Society considers affability to be “a very desirable and a very necessary quality for every tradesman to possess”).

There is a letter covering “Companions” (the primary concern when selecting desirable companions is, apparently, that they “should be, at least, on a par with, if not superior to, yourself in mental cultivation and resources”) and another which gives guidance on “Female Society” (the concerned Uncle warns his nephew Charles against the dangers of “premature engagements”, stating that he does “not know any thing more likely to entail lasting inconvenience and unhappiness to him who falls into it”).²

But of greatest interest to this defense of Greed is the letter entitled “Personal expenses—Books, etc.”

In this letter Charles’s uncle states emphatically that “there are some personal expenses which, though not absolutely necessary, may be justifiably indulged […] You will be at no loss to understand that I refer principally to books”.

“Justifiably indulged!” — what better defense could a greedy book-buyer desire? And I would happily rest my case there if honesty did not force me to reveal the waffling hidden behind the elision: “…if kept within bounds.”

“Damn moderation!” I say. “Where books are concerned excess is the key!”

So I am willing to try and live with this particular Deadly Sin, but will admit to a few mild concerns:

1. will I be able to take my books with me to Hell?
2. just what is the temperature down there?
3. will there be sufficient shelf space?

I’m not sure I want to know the answers…

• • •

¹ In fact, if I were feeling obstreperous I might take the provocative position that, since nothing exists until it is named and defined, Greed (and the other Deadly Sins) might not bedevil us at all without the Church and its useful definitions. But I recall having been advised years ago to avoid discussing politics or religion so I will retreat from this indefensible position in order that my train of thought might chuff along to the next station on the line.

² Presumably the “lasting inconveniences” of such things as heroin went without saying…