Yesterday afternoon, I posted some shots of a Ralph Vaughan Williams bio that had been discarded from the Des Moines Public Library, which I am now happy to absorb into my own collection. The book was written by the composer’s widow, Ursula, an articulate eyewitness, a poet and librettist, and RVW’s personal assistant. Surely, she had some things of value to say about the composer!

Why would this be withdrawn from any library’s permanent collection? Space considerations? The rise of digital access to what might be perceived as the same information? The ceding of more academic titles to local colleges or universities? A simple lack of interest? Or ignorance and lack of foresight? (“If I don’t know it or care about it, then surely nobody else will.”)

Once, a suggestion was put forth at one of the radio stations at which I worked to jettison anything that hadn’t been played within the past few years. This spurred an impassioned defense of the importance of maintaining a physical library. Unsurprisingly, for someone with probably 10,000 CDs and records and Lord only knows how many books, I heartily concur!

Such clearing of the shelves can’t be blamed entirely on digitization. I remember in the early ‘90s buying from a discard bookcase at Easton Public Library a number of collectible music titles, such as Constant Lambert’s “Music Ho!” and Sir Thomas Beecham’s “A Mingled Chime.” Some of these I subsequently sold, as part of my book business, and some I kept for myself. But they might have done the most good in a public library.

I understand that with all the books in the world, and more being published all the time, there simply isn’t room for everything, and that I shouldn’t expect a public library to give preference to dusty volumes representative of my own relatively arcane enthusiasms. But surely books like these are culturally significant?

Some of them are available now only from secondhand dealers, or in pricey reprints from university presses, or as shoddy on-demand reproductions. I would have never paid the asking price for a hardbound copy of Ursula Vaughan Williams’ RVW biography, if it hadn’t turned up as an affordable library discard.

So yes, Des Moines’ loss is my gain. But I have a greater collection of – and easier access to – information about this composer than most. And I’ll be gone someday, and hopefully this book will endure. Wouldn’t it be better to find it on the shelf of a library somewhere than to have it entombed with me in my pyramid? If I donate it, will it only wind up on the discard shelf?

One final observation, in reference to reprints or reissues: as with recorded music, only a certain percentage of valuable material ever makes the jump between formats. That means an awful lot of what was once available on VHS, 78, or LP, or as hardbound books, is now accessible, if at all, only on the collector’s market, or through a public, university, or other institutional library.

Combine with chaotic forces, such as natural disasters, shifting cultural trends, and clueless custodians and heirs, and much of our heritage stands to be lost.