In Burning the Books, Richard Ovenden, director of the Bodleian Libraries and Fellow of Balliol College at Oxford, offers an engaging and sweeping history of libraries, archives, censorship, erasure, preservation, and knowledge destruction from around the world. His aim is “to explore a number of key episodes from history to highlight motivations for the destruction of the storehouses of knowledge, and the responses developed by the profession to resist it” (8). Drawing on examples from ancient times to the realities and challenges of our digital present, Ovenden powerfully, persuasively, and clearly surveys the variety of political, legal, social, economic, bureaucratic, and religious reasons at play in global biblioclasm, some of which will likely be familiar terrain to historians of libraries and archives (not to mention librarians and archivists themselves).Still, there is no shortage of new ground and shocking incidents—all meticulously researched and based on a wealth of primary and secondary sources, many of them coming (no surprise) from the depths of the Bodleian itself. The volume includes episodes that are arguably not well enough known and deserve even more scholarly and public attention. These include “the twice-burned” Louvain University Library in Belgium (107–17), the National and University Library of Bosnia and Herzegovina and other institutions in Sarajevo (154–63), the Jaffna Public Library in Sri Lanka (163–64), libraries of the Zaydi community in Yemen (164–66), and libraries, archives, and museums in Iraq (183–95). However, there are relatively few non-Western examples and a future edition (or perhaps another work) might turn more of its attention to historical examples—past and present—that highlight challenges in Africa, South America, Asia, and the Middle East.The international approach of this volume and its focus on the destruction of knowledge make it comparable to another excellent work, Matthew Battles’s Library: An Unquiet History. As with Battles’s book, this one will certainly appeal to library history researchers as well as general readers, including those who may be unsure about the role of the library in contemporary society. In response, Ovenden’s final chapter, “Coda: Why We Will Always Need Libraries and Archives,” offers “five functions of libraries and archives that we lose when they are lost or destroyed”: education, the preservation of diverse forms of knowledge, the well-being of citizens in an open society, a “fixed reference point” for truth and transparency, and a way to anchor “cultural and historical identities” (225). These certainly apply to physical as well as digital library and archiving spaces, such as the Internet Archive, Wikipedia, and other online projects that are discussed as agents of preservation in the face of censorship and misinformation.In the end, despite its provocative title, Burning the Books is not only concerned with the destruction of libraries, archives, and historical objects, but in the unique role of information professionals and organizations across the globe to save, conserve, and preserve them as well. This becomes particularly evident in the last three chapters (“The Digital Deluge,” “Paradise Lost?” and the aforementioned “Coda”), which take on a more polemical tone. For instance, we read about Ovenden’s concern for the “long-term sustainability” of the Internet Archive based in San Francisco (203) and the need for preservation work (of both physical and digital objects) to “be seen as a service to society” (219), especially in the face of funding cuts and insufficient revenue from taxation revenue—a reality that confronts libraries, archives, and museums in and outside the United States. Burning the Books certainly does a great service to the scholarly record, helps fill a lacuna in the history of libraries and archives, and is highly recommended for scholars and students alike. It is also an excellent resource for those of us who teach on the history and mission of libraries and archives in our globalized world.
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