When the bookstore wouldn't buy back some of my books, a friend suggested that I take them to The Book Thing and trade them in for new reading. The Book Thing, founded by ex-bartender Russell Wattenberg, is a nonprofit organization that collects donated books and gives them out free of charge. Located until recently in a row house basement, it has since moved to 3001 Vineyard Lane and is only a short walk from the Homewood Campus.
Browsing the shelves in the four-room structure are mothers and their children, students and professors. Renee Reabe has been visiting The Book Thing for several years. "There's some amazing stuff here. I like to get stuff for collages. It's my artistic outlet ... Today I found some German and Russian magazines from the 1960s and 70s."
She tracked me down later to show off a "Kat Kong" book. "Could you find this anywhere else?" she asked, adding it to her pile.
Every book has its story. There are people who come in to The Book Thing and find copies of books they owned as children, their names still scrawled on the inside cover. Humanitarians come in and take books to start libraries or box up out-of-date computer manuals to ship abroad. Those who cannot afford to pay for a college education teach themselves biology or physics with donated textbooks.
Wattenberg considers himself "a facilitator" in this process. However, facilitating an operation like this is no easy task. He dedicates at least 100 hours a week to the full-time task of running The Book Thing and sorts through about 30,000 books per week, getting books from such sources as overstock Johns Hopkins Press books and out-of-date books from college professors. "Turnover is fast," Wattenberg comments, as he stands knee-deep in page upon page of novels, German books, and magazines, sorting them into boxes to be shelved.
In addition, the monthly mortgage payment is $1,500, which is funded through donations. Only the most precious -- about 0.5 percent -- of the donated books are sold for profit. The rest are available to anyone who wants to adopt them.
"I can do this," he says, "because I have no other responsibilities. No wife, no kids, no elderly parents that need taking care of. It's just me ... and Miss Marple." He gestures to his ten-year-old cat.
Meanwhile, volunteers work quickly to sort and stack books, which are stamped "not for resale," then sorted into categories and shelved. On this day, Johns Hopkins' APO service fraternity helped sort books. Junior Pam Klein mentioned that though it was her "first time" working at The Book Thing, she would be back: "It's fun. ... Going through books you'd never even lay eyes on. I mean just in these boxes are books on cheese recipes, art history. I found Memoirs of a Geisha in this box."
A local philosopher started coming to The Book Thing when he heard about it on NPR. He compares looking through books here to "a spiritual quest. ... These people are searching for something. ... They don't know what it is yet, but it fulfills a spiritual part of themselves," he said, arms filled with books on near-eastern philosophy.
He identified himself only as "a searcher -- same as everybody." He seemed today to have found some of what he is searching for.
All you need to do to take books is fill out a book sign-out, which asks for a name ("I don't care; you can make up whatever name you want," says Wattenberg), the number of books taken and a comment. It is already an inch high this day, with some people taking hundreds of books.
"Thank you," I write, carrying out a copy of Memoirs of a Geisha. I'll be back.
The Book Thing is open on Saturdays and Sundays from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.
