I've been on LibraryThing for over a decade now -- it really is fantastic. (It offers a lot of customization for each book entry too, which we idiosyncratic-perfectionist cataloguers certainly appreciate.) I always enjoy looking through the list of libraries most similar to mine. Great way to find books I might like.
Really is. You make an account, then take search your book at "Add Books" then it searches databases and shows you covers of all the possible editions and you pick the one you have and then it is on your shelf. One fellow I know got the scanner app and had all his books added in a few hours. And you can look at them on your phone (the covers, I mean). The only way I think they make $$ is by recommendations that are unobtrusive. I did this because in FL I was afraid of hurricanes but now it's something I do when I read a book, I add it.
It really is. All you have to do is "Add Books" and up pop covers of all possible editions and you click "add" and it goes on your shelf. One thing I like is you can see how many people also own the book. I have quite a few where I am the only person who had added a book. This is an endless fun place for a book person.
How does LibraryThing assign unique identifiers (keys) to books without ISBN numbers? Probably half the books in my collection fit into that category.
When I last looked at catalog software for my books a few years ago the most used packages assumed the existence of an ISBN. It was a real impediment, and I put the whole project aside.
when you search to add a book--say Crime and Punishment--you get back a number of editions and pick the one you own. It's just 2 clicks. Library Thing searches Library of Congress and other databases to offer you titles. It might not offer all of them. but I'd say 95% pop up. And then you have an online library of your book covers. Which, I realize, is something that appeals to only some of us (but over 2million!)
This is great. I setup my account and started cataloging. And I absolutely DO like seeing the covers. And the strangely rich satisfaction of adding a book that no one has ever listed (even if it was a French language children's book of animal photographs published in 1965). Very fun!
I know this is almost completely superfluous, but it is an example of the magic of books and memory, and your substack is a place where these things have a home, so I'll relate this here. I was looking more closely at my little French children's book about animals and their babies ('Les animaux et leurs petits') when I realized that my father, flush with the permanent joy that entered his life when he and my mother started to have children, almost certainly bought the book to read to me as a two year old. The book consists of little more than a series of photographs, all in black and white, of adult animals with their babies: ducks, hippopotami, deer, lions, others and... hedgehogs on the cover. My father always loved hedgehogs, for some reason, but none of us ever thought about why he loved them. I doubt he ever saw one growing up in urban Chicago in the thirties. Even so our home always had one or two small ceramic hedgehog families walking single file across coffee tables and bookshelves, mama in front, little ones strung single file behind her, an exact re-creation of the cover photograph on a book with which he associated one of the happiest times of his life.
My father had a life that was both charmed and difficult. I think of both parts, but the difficult ones seem to loom larger in memory. This simple book, however, sails like an arrow past the loss and disappointment my father felt so deeply and persistently, to land at the spot in time where everything was beautiful and new, when he really flourished. I gave away the ceramic hedgehogs a few years ago, and that’s fine. There wasn’t much emotional valence there. The book, for some reason, is different. I can’t read the French introduction by Elian Judas Finbert, an animal lover and honoree of the French Academy whom Google and French Wikipedia tells me was a “Jaffa-born author. Originally a camel driver and Nile boatman” (!), nor could my dad read it, but the mystery simply enhances the treasure of the thing. For my own sons, who never knew their grandfather, none of these connections will resonate like they do for me, very possibly the only person on the planet for whom this book is precious and irreplaceable.
What a beautiful story. And I understand. My difficult father also yours era..but some books are what I remember. This is worthy my doing the Substack. And I admit to opening up my LibraryThing library a lot to have those memories. And yes, it is difficult to have connections that only you hold. Same for my daughter about my father. Thank you for this.
I used LibraryThing very successfully to catalog the books in my church library. I keep intending to use it for my own books, but somehow I never quite get around to it. It's definitely a great service.
I've been on LibraryThing for over a decade now -- it really is fantastic. (It offers a lot of customization for each book entry too, which we idiosyncratic-perfectionist cataloguers certainly appreciate.) I always enjoy looking through the list of libraries most similar to mine. Great way to find books I might like.
That's my favorite feature--libraries like mine--I often get ideas that way.
Thanks -- easy to use?
Really is. You make an account, then take search your book at "Add Books" then it searches databases and shows you covers of all the possible editions and you pick the one you have and then it is on your shelf. One fellow I know got the scanner app and had all his books added in a few hours. And you can look at them on your phone (the covers, I mean). The only way I think they make $$ is by recommendations that are unobtrusive. I did this because in FL I was afraid of hurricanes but now it's something I do when I read a book, I add it.
I've got to try it with the scanner. That's got to be so much quicker. It's been several years since I used it.
This is miraculous
It really is. All you have to do is "Add Books" and up pop covers of all possible editions and you click "add" and it goes on your shelf. One thing I like is you can see how many people also own the book. I have quite a few where I am the only person who had added a book. This is an endless fun place for a book person.
How does LibraryThing assign unique identifiers (keys) to books without ISBN numbers? Probably half the books in my collection fit into that category.
When I last looked at catalog software for my books a few years ago the most used packages assumed the existence of an ISBN. It was a real impediment, and I put the whole project aside.
when you search to add a book--say Crime and Punishment--you get back a number of editions and pick the one you own. It's just 2 clicks. Library Thing searches Library of Congress and other databases to offer you titles. It might not offer all of them. but I'd say 95% pop up. And then you have an online library of your book covers. Which, I realize, is something that appeals to only some of us (but over 2million!)
This is great. I setup my account and started cataloging. And I absolutely DO like seeing the covers. And the strangely rich satisfaction of adding a book that no one has ever listed (even if it was a French language children's book of animal photographs published in 1965). Very fun!
I know this is almost completely superfluous, but it is an example of the magic of books and memory, and your substack is a place where these things have a home, so I'll relate this here. I was looking more closely at my little French children's book about animals and their babies ('Les animaux et leurs petits') when I realized that my father, flush with the permanent joy that entered his life when he and my mother started to have children, almost certainly bought the book to read to me as a two year old. The book consists of little more than a series of photographs, all in black and white, of adult animals with their babies: ducks, hippopotami, deer, lions, others and... hedgehogs on the cover. My father always loved hedgehogs, for some reason, but none of us ever thought about why he loved them. I doubt he ever saw one growing up in urban Chicago in the thirties. Even so our home always had one or two small ceramic hedgehog families walking single file across coffee tables and bookshelves, mama in front, little ones strung single file behind her, an exact re-creation of the cover photograph on a book with which he associated one of the happiest times of his life.
My father had a life that was both charmed and difficult. I think of both parts, but the difficult ones seem to loom larger in memory. This simple book, however, sails like an arrow past the loss and disappointment my father felt so deeply and persistently, to land at the spot in time where everything was beautiful and new, when he really flourished. I gave away the ceramic hedgehogs a few years ago, and that’s fine. There wasn’t much emotional valence there. The book, for some reason, is different. I can’t read the French introduction by Elian Judas Finbert, an animal lover and honoree of the French Academy whom Google and French Wikipedia tells me was a “Jaffa-born author. Originally a camel driver and Nile boatman” (!), nor could my dad read it, but the mystery simply enhances the treasure of the thing. For my own sons, who never knew their grandfather, none of these connections will resonate like they do for me, very possibly the only person on the planet for whom this book is precious and irreplaceable.
What a beautiful story. And I understand. My difficult father also yours era..but some books are what I remember. This is worthy my doing the Substack. And I admit to opening up my LibraryThing library a lot to have those memories. And yes, it is difficult to have connections that only you hold. Same for my daughter about my father. Thank you for this.
I used LibraryThing very successfully to catalog the books in my church library. I keep intending to use it for my own books, but somehow I never quite get around to it. It's definitely a great service.
I usually play around on it late at night to avoid looking at "news" sites.
Very sensible!