An Exhibition of Superlative Books: The Most Valuable Book in the World

Bill Gates, a person instrumental in enabling our daily communications today, a person who has changed humanity’s reading habits, who has shifted the modes of librarianship, is the owner of the most valuable book in the world. We pay each day through his gates, so he can sign the bill. The bill was U$30,802,500 for Leonardo da Vinci’s manuscript known as Codex Leicester. The elite book market is no different from the art market, or the purchase of vast property. Leonardo did not produce his book to make megabucks. His purpose was intellectual enquiry and, at least in these terms, he and Bill share an interest. It remains to be seen if Bill will end his life banished from the kingdom he served so well. In truth, it is meaningless to speak of book value in this moneyed way. There are dozens of books of more historic significance than Leonardo’s, protected by governments and institutions that will never think of selling them. Their value is greater than rubies, while tomorrow the market could add to its insider conversation by selling a book to out-trump Gates. Stop Press. Chinese billionaire Wang Zhongjun has purchased a letter by the 11^th-century scholar Zeng Gong for U$31,730,000. It consists of a sheet of paper, so not a book, as such. End of Transcript. Where were we? The Gates bill reminds us of the high end of the second-hand book trade, that world where contents and authorial purpose have been forgotten in pursuit of large returns, populated with collectors who see books as gold ingots. The reasons for a title’s fame have become lost, leaving simply the criteria for a high price, depending on author, publication date, binding and other variables. Oh, sorry, just got a text message. The original printer’s manuscript of John Smith’s ‘Book of Mormon’ has been bought for U$35,000,000 by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’. Thank you, but not a book, as such. Meanwhile the rest of us like to keep it personal, economical even. Our most valuable books stay on our shelves and usually have minimal market impact. They do not reside inside unreachable locked cabinets, or in display cases for the admiration of those who know the price of everything and the value of nothing. For example: 1. ‘The Magic Pudding’ by Norman Lindsay, given to me by my grandmother on my tenth birthday, is amongst the most valuable of my childhood books (pictured). Reading is not a priority with the characters, who spend all their time battling for possession of an ill-mannered pudding. 2. ‘A Certain World’, W.H. Auden’s commonplace book collected near the end of his life, is browsed each year at random. Thought by many to be his idea of an autobiography, it reminds me of university days with friends who argued over Auden. 3. ‘The Art of Living’ (1949), the earliest of many art books by the New York artist Saul Steinberg (pictured) that have come my way, like my collections of other favourite book artists like Maurice Sendak and Ronald Searle. Fortunately, there is no need to downsize my home library of its thousands. If I ever did, these three books would be on the list of the last hundred. Some people describe such possessiveness as sentiment; however, sentimental value is a residual factor. The real reasons have to do with personal identity, a lifetime’s knowledge, the circling of memory, connection with others through time, namely family and friends, our human world and the authors themselves. This book rather than that book is a choice we make all the time, adding thereby to their unquantifiable value.