Unpacking and Stuffing Books, or, How I Learned to Love the Epigraph
I work at the Acquisitions Department of the Suzzallo Library, behind the curtains from the everydaycommotion of the University of Washington, for a guy with a ponytail. Â When I first started as a âStudentSpecialistâ my job was to unpack boxes and boxes of books from a greaterforce called YBP. Â The YBP shipments typically arrive on Tuesdays and so every Tuesday I wait in the Receiving Room contemplating how important Tuesdays have become in my life.Â
I sort the boulders of boxes in the book trucks and take my corresponding orders to the receiving worktable where I have multiple utility knives from which to choose how to slash open the carton boxes. Â I really like this part of my job because itâs quite interactive, for lack of a better word, and it allows me to stand up, for the most part. Â Cutting the boxes open is rather fun but Iâve been instructed severely to not damage myself, or God forbid, the books inside. Once I open a box I must take the packing paper and throw it in the recycling bin. Â I like this part, too, because thatâs when you get the best sniff of all the book-smelling chemicals. Â If the bin is full, though, I have to take it down to the loading dock which calls for an adventure every time because I always get lost on the basement level.
Back to the boxes. After counting all the books and making sure they correspond with their invoicesâor packing lists, I forget the differenceâI get to touch every brand new book as I put it on a shelf, in preparation for their stuffing. Â By stuffing, I mean the process of verifying that we did, in fact, received the exact book we ordered and not some type of Furby. Â Sometimes books are shrink-wrapped, which makes the process either more fun or more wah-lahâthatâs Furby language for funner. Â
As a professional stuffer, it is my responsibility to pull out the correct routing slip for the right book, fold the routing slip in half, and insert it gently as a bookmark behind the title page. But before I stuff the book, I have to triple-check that all the âBib Dataâ such as the edition and I-S-B-Number match up. Â This process has become my favorite part of the job because as I thumb through most books I get to peek into all the epigraphs available. Â
Epigraphs, as you might know, are the best part of a book: they are the inscription that sets the tone, the quotation that sums up the authorâs humor, the poetic previews of a book, they are even better than the titles (except for some academic works like The Parallel Lives of Women and Cows: Meat Markets or Just Plain Dick: Richard Nixonâs Checkers speech and the ârocking, sockingâ election of 1952).  For example, I really like this epigraph: âSave the Tatas.â Can you imagine the title of a book with âSave the Tatasâ as its epigraph?
I wonder if there is a database of epigraphs somewhere in the bibliographic universe.
My most favorite epigraph, so far, is a sentence by MLK which goes âif a man is to be called a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Beethoven composed music . . .â or something along those lines. Serendipity is as noble as Martin Luther King, Jr. And, now, I stuff and unpack like the Bard.