I just finished reading a good book that is over 50 years old, a reminder that there are rewards in carrying an old book on a resuscitating journey from the dustbin to the nightstand.

I never judge a book by its age. Worn covers and tarnished pages may signal irrelevance to some, but that is a verdict unfairly based on the sheer circumstantial evidence of time. I still trust in the promise of an old book.

My latest rescue book, “Zelda, A Biography” by Nancy Milford, was published in 1970. It is about Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, wife of American author F. Scott Fitzgerald (“The Great Gatsby”), and the couple’s years-long disintegration fueled by alcohol and insanity.

Famous for defining the Jazz Age in America in the Roaring Twenties, the Fitzgeralds’ manic, extravagant, alcoholic lifestyle, and flamboyant need for excitement reached a point where the soulmates could neither survive together nor apart.

Deeply in love through it all, the couple’s emotional destruction is something to behold.

Books facing their golden years or irrelevancy can sometimes uncover interesting themes for columns. An old Steinbeck, “A Life in Letters (1989)” instigated my column “Steinbeck Assures Us Insanity is Here to Stay.”

The book “Dewey the Library Cat” incited my column “Take on a Library Cat and You Literally Take on the World.” (These and other columns mentioned herein can be found online by searching on The Day’s website: theday.com).

Being a confessed bibliophile, as outlined in “Bibliomania Concerns Cured by a Book,” may be a contributing factor in my appreciation of old books, especially classics.

“Zelda” caught my eye since I am a lifelong F. Scott Fitzgerald fan. Though published in 1925, I used “Gatsby” for a column titled “The Great Gatsby and Today’s One-Percenters.”

As proof of my fanaticism, I visited the Fitzgeralds’ grave in Rockville, Maryland, whereupon, standing only six feet away from the couple’s remains, because of his old books, a new column celebrating classic books was born: “Classic Authors Can Change Your View of the World.”

And, of course, old books are way cheaper than new ones.

I was thrilled to find my old “Zelda” for three dollars in a Goodwill used bookstore in Sarasota, Florida. By the way, these are great stores dealing just in books, yet they only exist in certain states. Connecticut, unfortunately, is not one of them, but you can find locations on goodwillbooks.com and look for them in your travels.

I seldom pay full price for a new book, but I will, on rare occasions, violate my principles of frugality -- but only if it’s about a subject or person dear to me, and I’m simultaneously overcome with guilt for not more faithfully supporting independent bookstores.

I bought a new “Why Bob Dylan Matters,” by Richard F. Thomas at the wonderful Page 158 in downtown Wake Forest, North Carolina, because Dylan’s Nobel Prize intrigued me so, and the author was a Harvard professor who just might offer unique insight.

Plus, I knew that would become a column: “Dylan’s Nobel is American Poetry, Not Just Blowing in the Wind.”

But there are so many affordable used books that beg my attention, and since I can buy 10 or more for the price of one new book, I can wait for its life journey to bring it to a used bookstore (or use the library in the interim).

The aged but still relevant “Zelda, A Biography” details the Fitzgeralds’ failing health and financial collapse, leading F. Scott, after showing such promise, to become a rather pathetic, alcoholic screenwriter in Hollywood up until his death in 1940 at just 44 years old.

“The Great Gatsby” wouldn’t become a hit until long after the author’s death, and years after Zelda died in a 1948 fire at Highland Hospital in Asheville, North Carolina, at 47 years old.

It’s one thing to have heard that F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife was crazy, but it’s another thing to sit with her on the front porch of her childhood home in Montgomery, Alabama, on a warm afternoon and finally listen to her side of the story.

Told through the tarnished pages of an old book, the intimate account of their sad demise was as interesting as if it had been written yesterday.

John Steward lives in Waterford. He can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com