My earliest memories of reading and of books include the little library just six blocks from my childhood home. It was an old building, a dark wood structure with a low roofline and tiny windows. Just inside the door was the librarian’s desk and at it always sat an older woman, predictably engrossed in a book or cheerfully stamping library cards with due dates.
Behind her, book stacks beckoned. There were rows and rows of brown metal shelves, lined with books for every curiosity. Long before I could read, I walked through those stacks taking in the wonder of the spines, running my hand along embossed titles, studying the art and graphics on colorful book covers.
It was my dad, typically, who would take me. He’d read business newspapers and journals he didn’t want to pay to subscribe to. We’d take our time, reveling in the experience as if it were a leisurely vacation.
The problem with this library was that it was not “ours.” We lived on the border of two towns, and though this location was closer, the library much farther away was the one to which we were “zoned.” So, if I found something I wanted to read, I could not bring it home. I had to leave it behind.
This practice of appreciating books I could not possess gave me a “literature deficiency complex.” I felt deprived and perpetually anxious that whatever I’d started wouldn’t be available on my next visit. I dreamt of a collection of my own, books I could read whenever I wanted, books that would be there when I returned to the shelf days later.
So, after I did start collecting my own books, it was hard to let them go. I took such pride in my accumulation. It felt abundant, as though I’d earned this luxury.
When I moved out of my first apartment and into my first house, I had to consider whether my collection should make the journey. Many of the titles I had read once and would never read again. Some of them were nice to look at or had been a serious commitment (of time or of money). There were a few that were particularly precious, though. It’s those I still have on my shelf.
One is Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. My mother gave it to me and had dried and pressed leaves from her yard between the front and back covers.
There is my high school copy of Strunk and White’s Elements of Style, the French and English versions of Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince and my thrice-read copy of JD Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye.
But very little remains of that early collection. That’s partly because my reading tastes have changed. I used to read just to be entertained. Now, I’ve become a more sophisticated reader, preferring texts that challenge my worldview, or offer (intentional or not) craft lessons on style, structure, prose or character development.
How, then, do I make decisions about what books to keep and which to part with?
Every year in my birthday month (September), I pull all the books off my shelf. (I use this opportunity to dust the shelves, by the way) and pile them up on the floor.
Then, I take each one and make three determinations:
· Will I ever read or refer to this again?
· Did this book hold particular meaning in my life?
· Would I share this book with someone else?
If I answer “yes” to any of these questions, the book goes on the keeper pile.
If all three answers are “no,” I start three more piles:
· Recycle
· Resell
· Donate
It may stun some book people (and others, too, perhaps) that I would recycle a book. If it’s paperback, it can be done. These are books I’ve annotated, scribbled on, or defaced (with good intentions, of course) that would interrupt or distract another person’s reading experience and should not be shared.
I will resell a book I’ve kept in good condition that is either a newer title or a classic. There are many used bookstores in my local area that will buy or consign books. Some consignment stores will do the same.
Older and niche titles I typically donate. Here are a few places to donate books:
· A Little Free Library near you
· The public library
· Goodwill or other thrift stores
· Schools (depending on the genre and whether age-appropriate)
· Literacy centers (also depending on the genre and whether age-appropriate)
It’s a less daunting process when done regularly. It’s also a good way to evaluate reading habits and tastes. I’ve discovered books purchased but not yet read. That’s like a free gift!
It also gives me permission to clear space for more reading. My rule is that when the bookshelf is full, I cannot buy more. I never let it happen, because I’m always hungry for new material, to be awed by another story, to be steeped in craft and wisdom and powerful sentences. I am no longer deprived, but as long as writers still write, I will also never be sated!
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