No-one likes to bid farewell to books. But unless you have a home with ever-expanding wall, there comes a point when your stock of books exceeds the space available.
But how many of you shy away from making that ultimate decision to let go of a book?
A columnist in one of the UK national newspapers once confessed that she felt unable to give any of her books away.
About to move house she was faced with the prospect of finding space for her collection of roughly 10,000 books in a property half the size of her current abode. Such was her reluctance to part with any of them she even pondered farming her son out to his grandparents because that would give her another 150 feet of shelving.
Too Precious To Lose?
I can’t give away unread stuff, obviously, but I can’t give away the things I’ve read either. They all carry memories — of the places I read them (all of Austen one glorious fortnight with an equally bookish friend at the end of university), the people who gave them to me, the long-gone second-hand shops I found them in …
She has my sympathy.
I too have books that are precious because of the story of how they were bought or acquired.
Take my copy of Delia Smith’s Complete Cookery as an example.
I acquired this in 1993 as part of a prize from The Economist . It’s moved home three times and it’s covered in greasy dabs but it’s seen me through many large family Christmas lunches so there’s no way I’m giving that one away.
I’m just as reluctant to let go of my copy of Germinal by Emile Zola. It’s not simply that it’s my favourite title from his Rougon Macquart series but the fact that buying it became an international quest.
I’d taken it on holiday to South Africa. One hundred pages from the end I accidentally drenched it in sun tan cream. Desperate to know what happened I began a search in every bookshop in every town we visited. I found a second hand copy eventually, just a few days before we were due to fly home. Every time I look at the book I’m taken back to that holiday and that quest.
I used to keep most of my books even if they had no special memories or provenance.
I’d finish a novel, think “I might want to read this again” and shove it back on the shelf.
Did I ever go back and re-read? Hardly ever in fact. The only ones to get a second look-in were those that could be loosely described as classics. The rest just gathered dust.
The few attempts I made at a clear out usually resulted in me creating a pile to give away and my husband removing at least half of them because “I might want to read that”.
But that was in the days when I had only a modest collection of unread books. Once I started blogging, that collection exploded.
A few months ago I shared with you the strategy I’m adopting to bring a semblance of order to my piles of unread books. As much as I love having masses of books, I do need to scale back so I can actually get in the storage room where all of these are stacked.
There’s no big cull in the offing. I’m not taking drastic action and sweeping aside whole shelves. I’m just being more pragmatic.
That stack of books I thought I might re-read, is now about half its previous size.
I’m also being very disciplined with myself whenever I finish reading a book. Unless I am absolutely certain I will re-read it, it goes straight into a bag of books to try and sell via Ziffit.com or donate to family, friends or charity. Very rarely do I now keep the copy once I’m done reading it.
It was tough doing this at first. I had several false starts where I put a book into the bag only to take it out again the next day. It’s possible I suppose that I’ll experience some moments of regret in the future when I discover a book I fancy re-reading is one I no longer have. But I can’t see that being a major problem; I can always borrow it from the library.
The books I’ve kept are primarily classics. They are books that I think are ultra special. I suppose if I was a devotee of Marie Kondo I’d say they are the books that “spark joy” every time I look at them and read them. The ones I’ve given away might be perfectly good reads, it’s just that they are not special enough to warrant space on my shelves or on my floor.