Letting Go

I purged books today.

This is something that every bibliophile must do on a regular basis, lest they drown in the sheer volume of paper that accumulates on their shelves/windowsills/counter-tops/floors/etc. I tend to do it whenever I move, which is about once every year or two. Moving is especially excellent motivation for library-paring, since every book you get rid of is a book you don't have to, you know, move. 'Cos that stuff be heavy, yo.

Although I am a rabid devourer of fiction, it is actually reference books that make up the bulk of my "permanent library". Being as I am One Who Writes, my "reference" books come in all shapes, sizes, and topics of interest. I figure it's a safe bet that I'll be able to find a copy of Podkayne of Mars at my local library to re-read at my leisure, but if I'm possessed by my Muse and she needs me to look up an obscure fairy tale that I read once upon a time at 0300, then I'd damn well better have access not only to my collection of Grimm, but also my other six books on the fairy tales of other regions. So I tend to hang on to books like that. Also amongst my reference books, however, are my Artist Reference books, on the various media I've dabbled in. I keep those because hey! You never know when I'll pick it up again! Except that today I accepted the fact that really? I'm probably never going to do pottery again. At least, not to the extent where I really need to keep that book I haven't used in ten years. Besides, I'm sure there's a new edition out...

Then there are the Books I'm Going to Read, Damn It. I have a shelf specifically devoted to these books, the books that I picked up, or were given to me, and I got a bit into them and I know that I really need to finish them, because they are classics. Today I got ruthless, however, and let go of a few I've been hauling around for half a decade. I'm looking at you, Vanity Fair.

I'm also guilty of hanging on to books for sentimental reasons. Not towards the book itself (although I have a few dog-eared things that will someday get passed on to children for that purpose), but towards the person who gave me the book. I keep the book to prove I still love them, even though I never read the book. Today I let go of quite a few of such books. I still love the people who gave them to me, but why hang on to something that makes me feel guilt in association with their memory? And anyway I did marry Nathan, so it's a little like finally getting rid of my old love letters. The less well-written ones, anyway.

By and far the thing that makes it the most difficult for me to part with a book, however, is my belief in Identity Through Books. That is to say, I want my shelves to be a visual representation of who I believe I am. I want people to look at my shelves and say, "Ah yes- here is a girl who loves science-fiction and fantasy, true; but she also harbors a deep love for philosophy, eastern poetry, surfing, tattoos, and smart, beautifully drawn comics! And she certainly doesn't derive any guilty pleasures from things like Twilight." (Admit it- you, too, have "public room" books and "hidden in the bedroom" books).

As an example of a book that Proclaims My Self-Identity, I give you I Surf Therefore I Am. It is, according to my Identity Through Books neurosis, the perfect thing for my shelf. Surfing and philosophy? Dear lord, if they'd only put a tattooed pinup girl on the cover I'd make a shrine to it in the middle of my living room. But... it's not that great a book. I mean, it was okay, I don't feel like I wasted my time by reading it, but I'm never going to re-read it. Never. So it shouldn't be on my shelf, taking up space, no matter how much I want the casual observer of my home to know that hey- philosophizing surfer in residence.

I'm pretty proud of myself- there are now about six knee-high stacks of books sitting on the floor, waiting to be taken to the Salvation Army tomorrow (or maybe the library- I need to call them and ask about their policy on that). There is also a shelf full of books that I have set aside for specific people (like Katie and SCurry), as well as a shelf full of books that need to be returned to their actual owners (Mom you've been warned). The books left on the shelves- well, for starters they actually fit on the shelves, so that's a vast improvement. And when the time comes (sooner rather than later) that I pack them all up once more, the packing will go ever so much more swiftly, and the results will be all the easier on my ever-aging back. Win-win all around, my friends. Win-win all around.