These memoirs are the reminiscences of Jack Matthews: his adventures in seeking out, collecting, and reading old and rare books, along with reflections upon time, memory, and other mysteries. In one piece, he measures the psychological distance from when he first saw Lake Erie at the age of four - the sight of which \u201ctook his breath away" - to many decades later, when, as he was flying from Detroit to Cleveland, Lake Erie revealed both shores and gave his breath back, depriving him of the first absolute he can remember. Elsewhere, he ponders upon how strangely our lifespans overlap others, telling about his father driving in his Model T and picking up an old Indian who said he'd been a scout for Custer, surviving Big Horn by hiding under corpses. Such purviews, Matthews believes, give a sense of mythic reach-much as do the old books and manuscripts he loves to collect. Other pieces in his Memoirs tell of a famous English poet's last years in a tiny Ohio town; an old frontier medical book that prescribes such medicines as snake root, sawdust, and rye whiskey; an 1863 Unionist Kentucky newspaper advertising a slave auction; and 150 year old jest books, filled with such dreary specimens that one wonders how desperate people were to find mirth in them. In these reflections, old books and human realities are inextricably mingled, providing warm and thoughtful insights by a self-described \u201cphilosophical sentimentalist.\u201d

"The covetous foraging for old and rare books," is how Matthews defines "booking." It is an act which leads naturally to the pleasures of adding them to one's personal library, then reading them as instruments of light and measure in a murky and chaotic world. The understanding that books are intrinsic to civilized living is wisdom as old as civilization itself; it is affirmed here, in their various ways, by the people who inspire and inhabit these pages: the quasi-literate clerk of the steamboat Science on the Ohio River in 1835; a young fiction writer who got drunk one night and stole the bust of Edgar Allen Poe from the Poe Museum in Richmond, Virginia; and a guru of the computer age, who writes: "Books have always been important to me and to the people around me." Matthews explores the collecting of old dictionaries, whose definitions can be read as a sort of poetry; an 1840's rhyming book once used as a mnemonic tool for small children; and the wildly scrawled annotations of an exuberant painter in a battered copy of Thomas Hart Benton's An Artist in America. In other essays, Matthews compares booking with Charles Darwin's passion for collecting beetles; follows Nero Wolfe of the Rex Stout novels, who grew tentatively into a vivid and fascinating detective; and celebrates the zealous idealism of 1890s fraternity boys as reflected by some of their century-old publications. In sharing Matthews's adventures as an implacable bookman, readers will find, not an escape from life, but new entrance ways through old books.