Two months (and some days) have passed since I last wrote here, although I have, at least, been keeping track of my reading in a hand-written journal, as I resolved to do at the beginning of the year. As well, I’ve been making regular posts to my Instagram “books” account: Mater_Reads.
Each medium shapes what I say about what I read, though, and I have a particular fondness for the way this blog has worked in the past. I’m curious what it might become, still, even if I’m not here as often. I’m planning a few catch-up posts over the next week or two, as I settle into the new workspace we’ve set up for me — just in time forLa Rentrée. . .
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| I listed titles and authors of most of the books I culled. . . . |
Before those catch-up posts, though, I thought you might be curious about the culling process. As readers, many of us find it difficult to part with our books, and I’m a prime example. Four years ago this spring, when I packed up my campus office at retirement, I sent many of my books to the help-yourself table we kept by the Faculty office. I also carted several boxes home and found space for them in my study (I had a “room of my own” there, a large work surface and a wall of shelves) and on the many book shelves we had through the house.
When weleft the island a year later, I culled boxes of books. Boxes and boxes. Genre fiction and topical non-fiction. Literary criticism that a year of retirement had shown me I wasn’t likely to dive back into. Books I’d bought for myself and books I’d been given. Books about craft, cookbooks, outdated hiking books, parenting books. Ah, I culled. . .
But I kept as well. The boxes of books contributed considerably to the mover’s invoice, but Paul knew how important my books were to me, and any title I hesitated over came along with us. Bookshelves were among the first items we bought for our new condo, and we lined two (opposing) walls of the second bedroom with them, furnished it with a leather sofabed, adjusted the shelves to make room for the flatscreen TV, and called the room our TV/guestroom/library. . .
And then last month, once again frustrated at having to move a project-in-the-making from our dining table back into a small work surface in our bedroom, a lightbulb flashed insistently above my head. Okay, not really, but I wondered if the TV/guestroom/library closet could be converted into an office space.
First, though, some space needed to be cleared in the room itself. I warmed up with the CDs. We’d played them very rarely in our three years here, having gradually succumbed — with some reservations, admittedly — to Sonos + Spotify. Our stereo system was well over twenty years old, acting up occasionally, and we aren’t likely to buy a new one. Easy to read — and finally obey — the writing on the wall.
Once the CDs had been boxed up and sent away, I applied some of the same logic to books. So many I’ve been hanging onto with the idea that I will read them again. Many I have, many I know I will. But with a branch of a very good civic library system a three-minute walk away, I can probably borrow most of those titles readily. So to stay on the shelves this time, books didn’t necessarily need to “Spark Joy,” but they needed to evoke one of at least three responses: a significant memory of where and when I’d read the book or of a particular passage or character or mood; a strong desire, nay, even intent, to reread, or at least search out a passage or two; a wish, sometimes a need, to tell others about the title, to recommend and/or proselytize its virtues. . . .
Since I’ve been working on this post for over an hour now, and this is my second day at it, I’m going to take some advice from myself, as noted in this page from my Lists Notebook (not its official title).
See there, when I didn’t get either my Workout or a Reading Blog post accomplished Today? “Tomorrow” was yesterday, and I spent that hour I mentioned, but the post wasn’t done before we had to get to our Italian lesson (we didn’t want to be late to our first class!). And this morning, having spent another fifteen minutes at it, rather dismayed at the idea of what I still want to tell you about this Book-Culling process, I looked at my list again and read that little encouragement I’d added a few days ago : “can be short” (Do you do this kind of self-talk in your Lists? Does it help? Do you pay attention to yourself or ignore? Asking for a friend. . . )
I think my younger self was wise, and I think it would be okay if this post were short. To achieve that, and get myself away from the keyboard, I’m going to make this a “to be continued” post. . . .
When I continue (very soon, I promise), I’m going to tell you a bit more about the process, about the way those pages you see above represent a sort of Marie Kondo approach to the letting go, even if they made it much longer. I’ll tell you how much money I made selling the books to a local secondhand bookshop (I didn’t get rich!), and I’ll share a few discoveries. And I’ll tell you which book I’d been meaning to order a copy of — ever since reading Raynor Winn’s The Salt Path (the last entry in that 2+months ago post). . . and then found I’d already bought a few years ago and forgot about because it was lost in my own bookshelves!
Until then. . . .if anyone’s still reading this blog, I’d love to hear your experience with book-culling. Can you cull books? Have you? Might you? Or do you tend to keep the books moving after you’ve read them? Have you switched completely to e-reading to avoid the hoarding and the dusting? Or do you hope to die surrounded by every book you’ve ever owned? Do tell. Please. . . .
Book culling is in my radar. I’ve a box ready to go, And I’m going to add more to it before I head out the door. The only ones I will not part with are my sewing books, and my Stephen King books (and the new one I bought yesterday… ��)!
Takes a bit of resolve, doesn't it? But if we want to buy new, we have to make some room. . . .
Do you reread the Stephen King? I must admit horror is not my genre, but I do know he's a good writer. . .
My answer is (f) die surrounded.
I have culled in the past, and I was going to say that gave me enough room for everything to live in comfort…then I remembered I added another bookshelf last fall. Oops. But (excuses, excuses) I am an avid rereader and don't buy frivolously. No e-reading. And oh yes the dusting, but that is a good time to visit what's there.
A few selections on your 'culled' list are still on my shelves and as I was nodding in agreement with your decision it might be time to let them go.
And you leave us with a cliffhanger. Hmm…which book could it be?
We have much in common — the big difference, perhaps, is that I now live in 1000 square feet (with a more open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows instead of walls, for the most part, so fewer opportunities for bookshelves). So needs must. . . as for the cliffhanger, I'll try not to leave you there too long 😉
Thumbs up for the first sentence,dear Georgia 🙂
Dottoressa
Books – my all-time favourite topic of conversation! I am a very reluctant culler but sometimes needs must, as when we too downsized a few years ago. I took boxes of books to our local bookstore where they give a credit towards future purchases. My credit lasted for several years but gradually disappeared as I bought more books! I visit the library regularly but certain books I simply must own (Kate Atkinson for example.) I look at my overflowing shelves now and think I must cull again but it's so easy to attach a meaning or memory to every book there and quickly give up. I'm looking forward to reading more about your process; perhaps I might learn something.
Frances in Sidney
Ha! I've just written "needs must" above, to Georgia, and I see you've used the same expression. And like me, you took boxes to a secondhand shop on downsizing — ours actually gives cash, and they pass along to charity shops books that don't meet their criteria, so very convenient.
Funny you should mention Atkinson — I'd barely got the shelves reorganized when my daughter brought back a stack of four Atkinsons and an Ondaatje she'd borrowed from me. No chance they'd have been culled, of course. . .
B and I sold a lot of books when we moved in together. I am a reluctant culler but I suggested that the serious book club might want to read a Canadian classic. In my youth, I tried to read all of the New Canadian Library editions so I've still got some Rudy Wiebe and Ethel Wilson. Will I read my French books, my Canadian books and my French-Canadian books? Bonheur d'Occasion and Kamouraska might be worth a go 30 years on. Or do I just think of all the new books that are being published? I'll be waiting for your update.
I let go of Rudy Wiebe, but Ethel Wilson's books will never leave my shelves! 😉
Although, like you, I do think of all the new books, always. . .
Deaccessioned (museums use that word when they ditch artworks)boxes of books after hurricane Sandy made us homeless for months seven years ago. Somehow still have loads of books. Taking a literature course in NYC and building up books again. So much for minimalism.
KPD: you raise such an important point here, I think. The keeping of all our domestic objects, the things — books included — we believe we couldn't live without, depends on our luck and privilege in having secure (and relatively sizable) homes . . . Part of my self-talk in moving to let go of books had to do with watching what refugees from various disasters around the world must surrender. . . . . Still, I'm with you in knowing I'll be building up again before long myself. . . minimalism and books don't mix, imho. . .
I have become very picky with what I cull, in books, movies, and music. What I've found is that I get rid of many things I think I'll never look at again, only to be out repurchasing the same titles within six months. Not necessarily a good routine. However, I keep a "recycle" box going, and anything I put down without finishing, or absolutely DO NOT like, goes in the box. Music is another thing altogether. I have friends in the industry, and have several tapes of jam sessions that are irreplaceable. Never letting go of those!
I do love your closet-office that you posted on Instagram. 🙂
I've been careful about culling in the past, for similar reasons, but since our Big Shift three years ago, it's been clearer and clearer what does and doesn't earn the limited real estate. If you have room to hang on, though, why not, especially if you're listening and rereading and rewatching.
Bonjour Frances
I moved across country 16 years ago, and as of this spring, still had more than 50 boxes of unopened books in the garage. Library, wall of books in the living room, wall of books in the sunroom in NC … open spaces and weird walls in OR. I pulled myself to my full height and began a process of filling the recycling bin, sending childhood favorites to family, and, finally, reselling new just-read books to Powell's, and keeping only sentimental favorites in my atelier. My days of keeping books for the pleasure of admiring spines on shelves, or returning to reread or research are over. I can find almost anything I will ever need online.
Now, I buy, read, give or sell back (which usually means I buy a coffee and a couple of British design magazines with the small proceeds).
It doesn't mean there aren't still stacks of books on tables, the floor, an antique settee, and on both sides of the bed. There are still boxes in the garage. At first resigned, I am now happy to keep clearing the decks. Cheers, D
Yes! Your process sounds very similar to mine, although I know you still have much more space for books where you are. And like you, besides the one wall of shelves on which I still have books, I do have the stacks . . . .night table, desk, coffee table, either side of the couch . . . But my intention going forward is to try to keep a better balance between In and Out, circulation more than collection. We'll see. . .
Oh, I'm hip deep in the process, in anticipation of moving from Los Angeles to Portugal next year. We're hoping to wind up with only 1/2 a container to be shipped, which means most of the books must go. Right now it's favorite cookbooks, art and poetry that are making the cut, but we'll see as things progress.
Oooh, first of all, that sounds like an exciting move! Tricky to think of what books will travel with you. That would have been so much more difficult pre-Internet, but still. . . Good luck with it!
Well, I've edited a few times now, and it looks like I have room in my bookshelves, but I haven't unpacked the sewing/fiber arts books yet so who knows.. but I do want to leave empty space on the shelves, partly as room for growth, but also as an indication that there is still room in my life… does that make any sense? There are books on the shelves I could probably let go of, and I do keep a box to collect reading materials that are destined for the used book store, so it is an ongoing process.
It does seem that I occasionally repurchase books that I have given away, so I have not mastered that process, or is it that my own dreams and desires, in terms of what I want to read, are in flux and also changing?
Anyway, I notice that you packed up cds. My CD player got damaged in the last move and I am currently thinking about replacing it, vs, alternative sources, although I was listening to CDs up until I moved back into the house. There is no money in the budget for a new CD player before next year anyway, perhaps later if I have to upgrade other components as well, so for now, at least I have time to think about it.
It is nice to have that luxury.
That absolutely makes sense, leaving room for future books, new possibilities. But given the upheavals in your life over the past several years, I can see that you might take your time letting go. . .
For whatever reasons — the smaller space, the urban lifestyle, both of us retired and sharing space more often — we haven't been playing the CDs, and they were taking up valuable real estate. . . And, frankly, seeing the writing on the wall, landfill being increasingly at premium, I became keen to move ours along while there's still a chance someone out there might take them home from a thrift shop and enjoy them. . . . It hurt a bit, fleetingly, to inadvertently calculate the thousands of dollars spent accumulating, but we got so many hours of enjoyment from them. . . and truly, most of what we had collected is available digitally. No real regrets — but I can see that you would want to take the time before divesting — it's a sweet luxury to have!
So interesting to read the cull experiences! I had a mammoth cull about 6 years ago which earned quite a bit of money for Oxfam through one of their bookshops in Edinburgh. I always donate culled books there as they have book specialists who recognise rare/sought-after books and channel them to the shops where they have most chance of being sold at a fitting price. I also always Gift Aid my donations – does this exist in other countries? If you're a tax payer you can claim Gift Aid – it's a UK tax incentive where the recipient charity can claim 25p for every £1 you give (i.e. realised by the sale of books in this case). The charity has an obligation to write to you after a certain period to let you know how much money the sale of your items has raised.
Since then I've had another cull of the books in my late parents' house when I moved up here, and my children have both culled books on moving into their own flats. But I will need to cull again and am rather at a loss. There are books I just want to have on my bookshelves although the likelihood of reading them again is small. For the moment I have pretty much stopped buying books and am borrowing from the library and reading on the library e-books site. But I cracked this week and bought one, because I HAD to read it (you know that feeling, when you just HAVE to read a particular book?) and it wasn't in any library near me.
As far as I know, we don't have a program like that, but it sounds quite laudable — a real incentive to recycle via donation to charity.
And oh yes, sometimes I absolutely do HAVE to read a book and I want it NOW. And sometimes a purchased e-book will do for that, but sometimes — even for a read-once mystery novel in hardcover — it's worth the full price of the printed pages. The experience of reading a new book, tactile, olfactory. . . .such a joy!
Parting with my books is so painful for me…but,there were so many of them….the beginning of culling was after the war in Croatia,when a lot of libraries were destroyed,so,I've donated a lot of my books,as well as after the big flood ,couple of years ago
I dust my books and clear away from time to time,some were dislocated to the cellar and a majority of my first,oldest books to my grandma's house.
Today,I read a book,pass it to my mother and than to my friends,I've kept only some books connected with personal memories
I read a lot of e-books,you can't imagine how difficult was to get books in english or german during my youth and the possibility to get a book with one click is both a blessing and a joy
Marie Condo? Yes,I almost always think of kissing the book good by 🙂
Dottoressa
Hurricanes and wars and floods. Many of us never have to think about these kinds of trauma when we're editing our bookshelves. And we take for granted the ease with which we may borrow or buy books now. . . you raise some provocative issues here, Dra.
And I think my listing all the titles I sent away was my way of thanking and kissing each one as I put it in the box. . . . xo