As a boy, my father’s library was always a thing of awe and beauty. I loved the rich mahogany-stained shelves of the sacred inner sancuary called “Dad’s Study,” but more importantly, I viewed the old square room as a time vault into the unfolding history of my father. The various seasons of his life, from his childhood at the Boston Latin School to his undergraduate work at Harvard, to his various epochs of service on behalf of Christ and country, seemed to be chronicled for every family member to see through the many books which he had devoured over the years.

Often, the information contained in the pages of these books were less important to me than the story of what these books represented to my father at the time he purchased them. I often found clues handwritten in the margins, clues which pointed to priorities, challenges, struggles, epiphanies, and victories which he may have experienced at the time that the books were first opened and read by him. In some cases, as with his copy of R.J. Rushdoony’s Institutes of Biblical Law, a flip to the back cover revealed notations of the date when he completed the first, second, third, and even fourth reading of the same valued book.

In many respects, a man’s library is a reflection of the life of the man. Fathers would do well to carefully build their libraries and invite their sons to familiarize themselves with the rich treasures contained therein. A man’s library should be dominated by well-bound hardback books, as these are the only type that will stand the test of time. I favor writing in the margins of books. Many of the Founding Fathers did the same, and for good reason. Marking a book personalizes it and allows the reader to leave a memorial to his thoughts at the time, as well as a reference guide from which he can draw ideas for teaching, writing, or speaking. History records that both the sons of several notable Founders as well as future generations of Americans were able to benefit from the fact that these ancient fathers left clues as to their true, unpublished thoughts, through the penciled commentary found in the margins of the volumes which lined their shelves.

The image at the top of this blog reveals one of my favorite libraries. Still open to the public, the library of John Quincy Adams is remarkable for its simplicity, its depth, and its multi-generational vision. Built by John Quincy Adams for his father, his sons, and future generations, the structure itself is a simple rectangle with true Puritan New England simplicity. Having said this, the beauty of the floor tiling, the richness of the shelving, and the magnificence of a room in which every square inch has been designed with purpose, leaves the visitor breathless. Of course, the statues and paintings which visually chronicle the life of the Adams family and their friends is impressive, but it is the leather-bound books that captivate and enthrall one’s attention — thousands of them, most ancient first editions that tell the story of the education, the passions, and the vision of one of the most influential families in history.

Upon entering the library with me, our dear friend, author and famed collector of antiquities, Mr. Dan Ford stated:

“Ah, the smell! There should be a cologne called ‘Old Books.’ I would wear it every day.”