A few years ago, I was frustrated by the sheer volume of toys and knickknacks that Buddy Man had accrued over his few short years of life. His closet was packed, every bin that I had purchased to strategically corral items was overflowing, and I didn’t know where anything was. I was determined to get a handle on it.
One day, I forced him to confront it all, prompting him to let go of things that he no longer played with. He was resistant, not wanting to give anything up. Amazingly, he remembered when he acquired every piece. I should have seen it coming but I didn’t. As I continued to press him and encourage him to let go, he said, “Mommy, I don’t see you giving up any of those many books YOU have.” Touché, kid. Touché.
Besides thinking about what a complete and total hypocrite I was, I began to consider my feelings around my hoard of books. The word “hoard” struck me. I hadn’t used it intentionally. I could have said my personal library of books, my collection of books, but, no, I said my hoard because the way I feel comes out no matter what.
I love reading and engaging with words, looking up their meanings and using each with as much specificity as I possibly can. Merriam-Webster defines “hoard” as: “a supply, an accumulation, or fund stored up often hidden away; to keep to oneself.” The connotation is negative!
When Buddy Man forced me to think about how I felt about my books I realized that 1.) I was buying and acquiring out of fear: fear I wouldn’t have access to that book again; fear that if I didn’t acquire it, I would regret it. And fear that if I got rid of it, I wouldn’t be able to ever read it again. 2.) I had books hidden behind books, stacked up behind other books, stored in bins in the attic and bookshelves in the guest room closet, hidden out of sight.
I started hoarding books in 2020. The libraries and stores were mostly closed due to the pandemic and I had the privilege of being able to afford to purchase my books, as well as had access to an inordinate amount of advanced reader’s copies both physical and digital. And boy, did I collect them. If a book looked remotely interesting, I bought it. At one point, I had over 150 unread books on my bookshelves!
Many people say their collection of books brings them joy and helps make life worth living. Luc van Donkersgoed is credited with the idea that you should consider your personal library like a wine cellar. You might not be able to drink every bottle you own, but it is a collection from which you can pull when you need to, when you want to, and when the time is right.
I love this idea. But there is one important caveat: You have to have room for the cellar in your home. I do not!
There is an oft-mentioned joke in the book community: “too many books? You need more bookshelves.” Storage solutions are very rarely the answer when someone has too many of something, which coincidentally was the point I was trying to convey to the Buddy Man.
Don’t get me wrong: some of the books I have read spark so much joy in me: when I see them and pick them up, I hug them to my chest and a little thrill zings through my body. But those feelings were rare for the vast majority of them, especially my unread books. I wasn’t feeling joy. I was feeling something else and it wasn’t positive. It was guilt, anxiety, frustration and disappointment.
I was disappointed in myself for spending the amount of money I had spent. It could have gone to other things. I was frustrated by my aforementioned storage problem. I was running out of places to keep them. Most importantly, I was anxious about when I was going to find the time to read all the unread books. As I looked at my physical shelves, I felt condemnation and guilt. Not joy!
My personal library should feel like an extension of me, changing and growing as I do. There should be room for current interests, nostalgic selections, and favorites that you have to pry from my cold dead fingers. But I also want room for new editions of my favorites (I’m looking at you, paperback copy of A Psalm for the Wild-Built) and books on my new interests (how many books do I need to improve my watercolor skills?). I want room to grow, to change, and to expand. I want to look at my shelves in wonder and delight, not frustration and angst.
I love the word curate: to select the best or most appropriate, and organize especially for presentation. My initial library curation released 50 books back into the world. I considered if I was caught up in the hype of a book when I purchased it, my current excitement level about reading it, whether it could be a resource for my interests moving forward, and if it “sparked joy” when I held it.
I continue to curate every season, seeing what I have added to my collection and what I can let go. I let go of 60 more last year. Looking at my library now brings me wonder and delight, not frustration and angst.
How do you feel about your books? And be honest; the answer might surprise you. Be sure to tell us in the comments.
P.S. The single best thing you can do for your reading life, How asking one question helps me set reading intentions for the new year, and Book journaling tools for every reader.
About the author
Shannan Malone is our MMD Cohost and What Should I Read Next? Patreon Community Manager. Her go-to genre depends on her mood! You can find Shannan on Instagram @shannanenjoyslife.
