Scholars and Their Books: A Peculiar Islamic View from the Fifth/Eleventh Century (Presidential Address)‪.‬

Scholars are notorious for their love of their books. They might undergo all kinds of difficulties when they compile them, and they might not want to read, or even look at, them once they are published and in their hands, finished products; but they surely await reviews of them with great anticipation, and hope for the best. When the reviews appear, they rejoice in the positive ones, try hard to be stoic about mixed ones, and are certainly hurt by negative ones. They might even become angry, and it is not unheard of that they question the motives or scholarship of the negative reviewers, so that it is not uncommon to hear them say something like: "And who does she think she is!" or "I know why he said what he did--but I cannot tell you, at least not for the time being!" This is not to say that the relationship between scholars and their books is simple. On the contrary, it is quite complex. Many scholars pass through periods of self-doubt about their scholarship; many have writers' blocks for periods that can extend for several years; and many reevaluate every now and then what they have accomplished and often feel uncertain about the outcome of their reevaluation. But in almost all cases, their scruples do not lead them to question the principle of writing books: this is something that comes with the territory of the profession. And it is probably safe to say that none of them would consider getting rid of their books: good or bad, they are just too dear to them--too close to their hearts. And yet, is it possible that the relationship between a scholar and his books should become so sour that he actually destroys the very object of his affection? In medieval Islamic civilization--a civilization renowned for its scholars' love for their books--we read in the biographical literature about three early scholars who destroyed their books. There is, first, Abu 'Amr b. al-'Ala', the celebrated early scholar of Arabic language and Qur'an "readings," who died ca. 154/770. It is reported that the collections of notebooks of poetical proof texts he had compiled filled an entire room in his residence. Later on, having devoted himself to Qur'an readings, he burned these books and thus had to rely on his memory when he cited poetry. Then there is Yusuf b. Asbat, a transmitter of Prophetic traditions (hadith) and an ascetic, who died about the beginning of the third/ninth century. This Yusuf is reported to have buried his books. The burial affected his accuracy adversely and he was unable to narrate his hadith as it should be narrated. Lastly, there is Dawud al-Ta'i, the scholar of hadith and Islamic law turned ascetic, who died in 160/777 or 165/781. We know more about the circumstances surrounding his destruction of his books. It is reported that one day he pelted a person with a pebble. The person said to him: "O Abu Sulayman, your tongue has become long, and so has your hand!" Dawud remained silent for one year, neither being asked about scholarly matters nor providing answers. Thereafter, he took his books and cast them into the Euphrates. He then gave up scholarship, devoted himself to worship, and chose to live a solitary and ascetic life. There are stories about his having inherited from his mother a house that badly needed repair. Instead of repairing it, however, he lived at first in one room until it became uninhabitable, then moved to another room until it, too, became uninhabitable, and then to a third, and so on until he died. He also inherited money from his father. He used this money for his expenses all his life, and the same money was used to provide for his burial shroud.