It’s time for me to let go of some books
Someone else should have a turn feeling guilty about not reading Finnegans Wake.
“Have you read all of these books?” the young man, built like a linebacker, asked as he wiped sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his T-shirt. He had just finished heaving the last of 52 boxes of my books into the back of his truck. I’ve fielded that question so often through the years that I have a stock answer: “Some of them twice.” But he had worked so hard, and for a wonderful charity that sells books, that the usual flip response didn’t seem quite right. I replied, “Not all of them, but it is time they sit on someone else’s shelf.”
That day was the culmination of a long process of sorting and giving away books made necessary by considerable downsizing in my life. Not long before, I had three offices, each one chock-o-block with books. Every time I entered one of those offices there seemed to be more books, as if they had bred like mice whenever the door was closed. But now I was in one small office. Obviously, it was time to do some pruning.
Deciding which books to keep and which to give away is not a simple task. It is not like giving away clothes that no longer fit or sports equipment you are sure you will never use again. My relationship with books is considerably more complex than with other objects, and so is the process of deciding which books will remain with me and which will be cut loose.
