Sunday afternoon I sat on the floor with my tea balanced on a stack of theology books and my cat attempting to get into every place she shouldn’t. Which I didn’t mind too much, because it meant she would find the spiders first. And with that I went through my little library.
I’ve never counted my books, I think I have a goodreads account but I’m not sure, but I have enough books to fill two bookcases and form seven stacks on the floor (where the spiders live, the evil spiders.)
For the last year I’ve been applying ‘why’ to….everything. Why do I own this? Why do I keep this? Sometimes I answer myself with a ‘I don’t know!’, and put the item right back where it was. I don’t always need to know an answer that I could defend. I have gotten rid of a ton of things, stuff that just has been around because it’s always been around and I’ve never really liked it or used it it’s just….there. The only section that had remained largely untouched was the library. Because more books is always better, right?
Last week I was thinking of a few books that were tucked away in the back stack on the floor, purposely put ‘out of sight out of mind’. And the ‘why’ popped up….do I ever intend on reading these books? No. Are they lovely enough to exist on a shelf purely for the cover? Obviously no, or I wouldn’t have tucked them away.
So on the floor I sat, pulling all the books out that were on the floor, only encountering one dead spider, and three cups of tea later had a large stack to give away. It was easier then I thought it would be, and sitting back looking a the smaller seven stacks on the ground (one stack entirely devoted to Artemis Fowl!) I was incredibly pleased how it looked. Now that space that had been previously taken up by books I never intended on reading or read and didn’t like, can be used for books I actually want in my library!
There are still books in my library I will likely never read, but they will have always have a place. There are still a few books that I have read that I did not like, or absolutely hated (Yes, you Breaking Dawn) but I will continue to keep because I like the covers. And then the section near to my heart, which is safely tucked on a shelf and certainly not in the spiders’ playground on the floor, are the old books. The oldest book in my library is a copy of Macbeth dated 1785. I love having those slivers of history tucked away.