Those Filthy Books

Our public school did not have a library. Just a room full of old textbooks and encyclopedias. Yet, in my spare time, that overgrown cloakroom opened my eyes to a world far beyond the farms and swamps of Georgina Township.

One bookshelf had a dog-eared set of Grolier encyclopedias. Others had miscellaneous science and technology books, with titles like "All about Chemistry" or "Our Wonderful Universe." In the corner stood rolled-up maps showing half the world in imperial red. And, here and there, were course notes or school projects left by some long-gone teacher.

It was striking to see how things had changed over time. From one atlas to another, boundaries shifted and countries came and went. Paraguay's northern border took on a mid-life bulge as the century advanced. Tannu Tuva flickered into existence. Africa, formerly red and green with patches of yellow and purple, exploded into a kaleidoscope of colours. Just as changeable were the science books. The oldest ones insisted that canals existed on Mars — you could see them on charts as detailed as any road map. Later editions were not so sure and the most recent ones put it all down to strained eyes and eager imaginations. Pity.

There were also changes in values. The big one was the shift from Canada as a junior partner of Great Britain to Canada as ... well, as Canada. Successive history books rehabilitated Louis Riel from traitor to martyr. The First World War, initially fought to defend British civilization, became a struggle to defend democracy. Even the style of printing seemed to 'shift' from upper-case God, Country, and Empire to lower-case jobs, progress, and the economy.

One day, I sneaked into that room during classroom hours, having completed my assignment and seeing no harm in leaving my desk. The teacher thought otherwise. "If your assignment is done, stay at your desk and wait for the next one! Is that clear?!" He said a whole lot more, such as why I would want to read filthy old books when better and newer ones were available. I nodded, promising never to read them again.