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Last week I hopped in the car and headed out on a little journey. My first stop was Staples Print and Copy Centre to pick up the five printed copies of my thesis. They were stacked up together in a box and felt quite heavy. From there I headed to my old campus (TWU) to pick up the five title pages signed by my thesis advisor and second reader. Then it was over two bridges to North Vancouver to find the little binding company. It ended up being in an industrial section right down by the water. I almost missed it as it was a little hole-in-the-wall place with a tree right out front obstructing the view of it. I went in with my theses in hand. I was excited and a little nervous. I realized that there was no going back on this now: whatever was on these pages was going to be bound and put in the library (and online) for people to read and critique. Any errors were in those pages and were staying there. Anyway, as I entered there was a strange and loud noise made by the door to notify someone of my entry. I stood there in a little entry room waiting. After a couple minutes of no answer I decided to push the door open and make the noise again... still no one. I stood there for a few minutes taking in the room. What an odd little room it was. It was filled with books of course. All sorts of books, most with an old look to them. I don't think they were very old (although there was a small layer of dust across the tops of them) but they had that "early days of modern book binding" look. There were books of all types and genres. I particularly remember seeing a small stack of the Holy Bible and a copy of Bleak House by Dickens. It was a neat (not clean and organized) little room: slightly musky and mysterious.
Finally my patience began to ebb and I peeked my head into the adjoining room. If the first little room was mysterious, this next, bigger one was magical and arcane. It was filled with mountains of books in various stages of the binding process. There were strange machines interspersed amongst the books. Each one seemingly with its own secret purpose. I heard voices conversing off in the distance and called out... no response. I heard a heavily accented man's voice coming from a previously unnoticed stairway leading up from the first smaller room. I stuck my head around the corner and called out. Turning in surprise he noticed me down there. He was an older English gentleman who, after hearing my desire for binding, decided that he would seek out someone who could assist me. He thence led me back into the larger room and called out with his thick accent. Out of the winding piles of books, machines and unidentifiable materials of all sorts came a short grey-haired woman. She too had a thick English accent. Her's was a pleasant, welcoming voice resplendent with history and tradition. We discussed my desire for binding my thesis, came to an estimate of price and required time, and I handed off my precious cargo into her capable hands.
My grad thesis has been one of the most trying and challenging experiences of my life. I greatly appreciated being able to physically hand it off for binding. I could have filled out an online form and uploaded the pdf file (the binders have an agreement with a printing company) but there was something special about making the journey, meeting the people who are going to bind it, seeing the strange place where it will be turned into a bound book, and feeling the unbound copies in my hand. It felt very human, very embodied.
I look forward with great anticipation to picking up the bound copies soon. It will definitely feel good. My grad thesis process is rapidly drawing to its conclusion. When I deliver the bound copies to TWU and physically hand them off, I will officially be done. Oh boy.
Then I can continue my unofficial Augustinian studies...
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