The crisp, bright white of a brand-new book will always have its own charm—clean, untouched, and full of quiet promise. But there’s a different kind of magic in pages that have tanned or even foxed over time. That soft amber glow and those faint, freckled specks—born from years of light, humidity, and simply existing on someone’s shelf—feel like the book’s own story unfolding alongside the one printed on its pages.

And here’s the thing: we all have our preferences when it comes to the books we collect. Some love that pristine, barely-opened look. Others gravitate toward the warm, seasoned feel of a volume that’s clearly lived. Personally, I love both. I’ve been reading literally since I can remember—from stuffed cloth books for babies, to thick cardboard storybooks for toddlers, to chapter books for intermediate readers, to fantasy novels and beyond. Naturally, a lot of my older books have tanned (and even foxed) through the years, and that never made me love them any less. If anything, it made them feel more mine.

A tanned or foxed page is a mark of time and testimony. Every shade of cream or brown, every tiny constellation of reddish spots, hints at where the book has been—moments by a sunlit window, evenings under a lamp, or entire seasons resting quietly on a shelf. And then there’s that familiar “old book smell”—lignin gently breaking down into that soft, vanilla-like scent that feels like being welcomed home.

The texture shifts too. The paper softens ever so slightly, turning velvety under your thumb. Holding a timeworn book feels like touching a memory.

And honestly, I’m really glad dehumidifiers exist these days. They help keep books from deteriorating too quickly, prevent mold, and slow down foxing and excessive tanning—especially in humid climates like what we have in the Philippines. But even then, time will still leave its gentle mark. Books will still age, still tan, still evolve in their own quiet ways.

In a world obsessed with the spotless and replaceable, a book softened by years carries a kind of steady authenticity. It says:

“I’ve been read. I’ve been loved. I’ve lasted.”

Dog-ears, faint smudges, tiny rings from forgotten cups—none of these diminish the experience; they enrich it. And whether you prefer crisp white pages or warm, timeworn ones, there’s beauty in both. One is the beginning, the other is the becoming.