For reasons I can’t quite fathom — actually, they are totally fathomable, but I am in denial — I threw myself into a very rigorous office cleaning yesterday and today. And, possibly, into tomorrow. I am lucky enough to have a nice office with lots of shelf space. But it’s never enough, is it? So I began weeding my book collection into two piles — “Give Away” and “Keep but Box.”
Years ago, while I was interning at the Atlanta Constitution, I remember the television critic — Richard Zoglin, at Time last I heard — speaking about a press tour in California, where journalists were given entry to the home of Larry Hagman, then at the height of his “Dallas” fame. He said that every critic made a beeline for Hagman’s bookshelves and began writing down the titles, because that was one of the few personal details available to them. I was 21 at the time, planning on being a journalist, not expecting to be judged on my bookshelves. But I think the anecdote made an impression on me because I’ve always been too aware of what my bookshelves tell the world about me. Yesterday, I decided that yardstick had to go. If I could not imagine myself opening a certain book in the next five years, it should be boxed up. Alice Walker’s entire pre-Color Purple backlist hit the box. Barbara Kingsolver’s “Animal Dreams,” but not “The Poisonwood Bible.” (I have TWO first editions of “The Bean Trees,” but those are in the living room, which is reserved for hardcover classics.) I thought hard about an Alison Lurie, the one about Key West, and an Ann Beattie, but granted them last-minute reprieves. And so I went, descending into chaos in order to leave it. Have you ever seen the adage, “Sing as if No One Is Listening”? I decided that my bookshelves needed to please only me, not send out a message of my general fabulousness.
And I was cruel, at times, boxing up books by friends. But you know what? I seldom re-visit crime fiction. Besides, I urge anyone reading this — box me up! Or, better yet, give me away!
(It was interesting to see which crime novels I couldn’t banish. Anything by Peter Robinson. Many others, too. Don’t make me name more names.)
Whenever I’m communing with my book collection, I play odd games. First, I contemplate which letter of the alphabet I would choose, if limited to one. I usually pick “C.” Calvino, Camus, Clemens, Chandler, Cather, Chabon, Chekhov, Carey, Caldwell (I have a very cool paperback version of God’s Little Acre). James M. Cain. Crumley and Cook.
Then I notice which books end up side by side. Gischler and Goodis seem a good fit. Also Pendarvis and Pendle, the latter of whom wrote a wonderful novel about Millard Fillmore. I was worried when William Gay couldn’t stay in Tom Franklin’s neighborhood, but think he found a good companion in Mary Gaitskill. Frankln’s placement between Paula Fox and Jonathan Franzen? Much more problematic. Patrick Dennis and Peter Devries are made for each other. (Although, technically, I guess Dennis should be under “T” for Tanner, his real name.)
As I worked, I was listening to NPR. I am nothing if not a cultural cliche. (I mock my own NPR habit in the New York Times serial. Starting Sunday! Seriously!) Garrison Keillor came on with his Writer’s Almanac, and noted it was the birthday of three writers: Alison Lurie, Sarah Orne Jewett and Sally Benson. Keepers all in my system. But I wish more people knew the work of Benson, whose New Yorker stories were gathered in a collection called “Junior Miss.” (She also wrote the book that was the basis of “Meet Me in St. Louis.”) Heck, I wish it was possible to imagine a New Yorker that still ran the kind of short fiction that Benson wrote, about an ordinary adolescent girl on the Upper East Side. My hunch is that the only ordinary adolescent girls considered sufficiently interesting by the New Yorker’s standards are named Bristol Palin.
Of course, every single children’s title made the cut. Even Rosamond DuJardin. In fact, they were moved to the most prominent shelf, the one above my desk. And I started re-reading “Ramona the Pest.” Which — let’s just say it — is essentially “Anna Karenina” written at third-grade level. The passion! The errors in judgment! The love of Davy, the antipathy toward Susan! ONLY BABIES CRY IN THE MUSH POT. I’m sorry, but I’ve been corresponding with Lizzie “Fine Lines” Skurnick this afternoon, and the tone is infectious.
What story would your bookshelves tell about you? And do you care?
ETA: Website has been updated. (See link above.) It has the restaurant info for all you Bouchercon attendees.
Well, my bookshelves would show that I’m sometimes organized, and sometimes just putting more books up there. Also, that my kids have smaller living quarters, so many of their treasures are still here.
There are a bunch of cookbooks – particularly cookie cookbooks (my favs for making) – and crochet books. Plenty of crime fiction. Several signed Lippmans are either there or out on loan. Then there is the growing stack of “to reads” – and the “give aways.” And, of course, my hubby’s train books.
My latest travel policy is to take only paperbacks and give them away immediately upon completion. People think you’re a nut in the line to get on the plane, but everyone smiles and someone takes you up on it. I’m also populating the shelves in condos where I’ve stayed.
I adore “Straight Man.” One of my all-time favorites.
I tend to liberate my books stealthily, Susan, but your custom sounds lovely.
“‘That’s enough, Howie!’ Miss Binney spoke the way mothers sometimes speak just before dinnertime.”
Beverly Cleary is flat-out brilliant.
I went on about this so long, forgive me, that I decided I should just go ahead and use it as a blog post so that folks who aren’t interested in endless personal paragraphs from me don’t gotta read it. Thank you for the jump start.
http://www.journalscape.com/Hedgehog/2008-09-03-15:24/
I love it, Andi. And not because I’m a keeper. It’s no shame to write a book that isn’t the kind that some people re-visit. In fact, it might even been an achievement.
The thing that I found odd was that I kept two books from a backlist of a writer I hate, hate, hate. But I keep thinking I’m wrong and these books might help me sort that out.
For the past few months I have been oppressed by my books (new town, new house, fewer shelves, whole different deal). It is a hard thing to show old friends the door, but now I see the reason for doing it.
Thanks, you’ve contributed mightily to my mental health.
Brenda,
I feel very safe asserting that no one has ever gone so far as to say I had a positive effect on mental health. So, thank you!
I go downstairs and try to organize the bookshelves periodically. It’s usually an exercise in futility! I have a huge section on presidential history, lots of murder mysteries, all of my favorite kidlit books and my collection of Elswyth Thane titles that I hunted down pre internet. I do manage to weed things out periodically, but it’s hard to say goodbye to old friends. I guess my shelves show that I’m a real schizophrenic reader
“The thing that I found odd was that I kept two books from a backlist of a writer I hate, hate, hate. But I keep thinking I’m wrong and these books might help me sort that out.”
Oh DAMN yes. Can I tell you something though? Forget it. Ain’t gonna happen. If you don’t like that author’s work, ir probably is not going to change. i’ve tried that over and over. Get rid of ‘em. You can find ‘em later if somehow the planets align.
Zelda – you gotta be in the right mood. There are days I want to clutch everything to me and then there are rare days of sanity where I get that HEY, this will not kill me. Very hard though – I think moon phases are involved or biorhythms or something equally dumb.
my bookshelves elicited this from a friend of a friend, who visited my home for the first time: “how many books about horses does one person need? And why do you have all those beat-up children’s books? they’re so OLD.”
My books have always said, “She loves horses and all other critters, mysteries, childhood/teen classics and knitting.” P-backs and hardcovers worth one read are passed along, others are permanent guests who deserve revisits. If some magazine wishes to photograph my spilling bookshelves to illustrate a story on “Eclectic reading habits of the boring,” so be it. But my jumble of titles brings me contentment, and mine is the only vote that counts in this library.
I just ran upstairs to retrieve my copy of Junior Miss. Yep, my copy was purchased in 1965.
I have decided not to buy more shelves so I periodically purge my books, usually business books, social issues and psychology books which represent where my head was back in the 80s and 90s; others get donated. Occasionally I will sell a book on Amazon. Sometimes I leave them at bus stops and employee benches. I left one in a grocery store once (freezer case, ha ha) just because.
One shelf is dedicated to “collections” such as Harry Potter, Stephen Carter, Laura Lippman, Pearl Cleage, BeBe Moore Campbell, Lawrence Graham, Tina Ansa, Colson Whitehead. Another bookshelf is devoted to books on writing, grammar, language, spirituality. These two shelves are generally off limits for purging. Now as for those stacks on the floor…
Laura, is RAMONA THE PEST the one with “Sit here for the present”?
First- I love the line- ” my bookshelves needed to please only me, not send out a message of my general fabulousness” . Can I use this in conversation? If I write to anyone(like a response to a blog or email) -I will of course use quotes and credit you.
So in my bedroom, I have all of Ursula LeGuin’s fiction,my all-in-one Jane Austen, a hard back Jane Eyre, an old clothbound David Copperfield and all of the “shoe” books that I own. I am planning a Noel Streatfeild shelf (with her Gemma books too) in my soon to be home office. I also have two Nava Atlas cookbooks- I like to read her cookbooks(I should have a shelf of cookbooks that I love to read but don’t cook from- Deborah Madison, Alice Waters Fruits and Vegetables books)
I have been using the public library more and more in the past decade. It makes me fell like a solid citizen and saves money vs. buying airport books.
As a result, my shelves tend to have only things really important to me (my signed Lippmans and Pelecanos, 55 Louis Lamour paperbacks, a few first editions from the 19th century and all 400 of the cookbooks). A few college texts have survived, as well as books I have kept for when my son (11) gets older.
Beyond that, most purchased books are handed over to friends or donated to the local bookstore for credit towards purchase. Or to charitable book drives.
The only books I have read more than once in the past year are WTDK, THE NIGHT GARDENER and COAL BLACK HORSE. Books are so accessible today, that I really don’t feel the need to keep ‘em.
Yes, “Sit here for the present” and Ramona’s insistence on asking how Mike Mulligan went to the bathroom.
For those of you who don’t know Cleary’s work — one of the many wonderful things she does is adapt to the changing culture with very little fuss. In “Ramona the Pest,” everyone has a mother who stays home. Later, Ramona’s mother will enter the work force and I assume Howie’s does, too. I once read an interview where she seemed to get (rightfully) miffed when asked how she kept up and said something like, “I’m alive, I’m paying attention.”
I think my bookshelves would say that I read obsessively and that my taste is all over the place. I read mysteries (yours, Sara Paretsky’s, Michael Connelly’s, Sue Grafton’s, Dennis Lehane’s, Harlan Coben’s, Marcus Sakey’s) and general fiction (Stephen King, Jodi Picoult, Elizabeth Berg and too many others).
I buy books obsessively; there are far too many that I haven’t read. I worry that my apartment will collapse under the weight of all the books in it. You may hear about it on the news.
Kelly,
We’re lucky to have The Book Thing here in Baltimore; I feel good about donating my books to them. And, so far, I manage to get out without taking more.
Getting rid of books? One does that?
Actually, I’ve done it, but only with books I know I will not re-read. Otherwise, I’ve got all my non-fiction organized together and by author. One of these days, I’ll get it together to organize by obsession (all the plague and virus books on one shelf, all the drug war stuff on another and so on). My fiction is organized by author, of course.
I’m aghast that only “Straight Man” is on the list. Just finished “Bridge of Sighs” and LOVED it! I’ve got all of his books together, by order of publish date.
And, of course, I’ve got my Excel spreadsheet, which is badly in need of updating.
No Caputo in the C’s? “A Rumor of War”? “Act of Faith”?
I love Book Thing. I haven’t donated anything, but I have taken many books away.
Fortunately (for my apartment, which is running out of book space), I work weekend days now, so I don’t get to go there anymore.
Have you ever told out-of-town people about it? My friends have called me a liar; they think I’m making it up.
We just emptied five huge trash bags of books from the garage-our garage had no tools, just books and bikes, pretty much all my husband’s (why does one person need 3 bikes?–oops, I guess that’s another story). Anyway, the librarian in me shuddered at the disorganization of the books and the inability to find anything or know what was there. The final straw was when my husband came home from the bookstore with new copies of 2 books he already owned. They were, of course, hidden in a pile in the garage; he remembered that he wanted to read them but forgot that he had already bought them! Finally, I pointed out to him that he was married to a LIBRARIAN. He has access to books! Why not help my job security and the library’s circulation stats?
Now we actually have a hammer in the garage. The ‘keeper’ books are in the house and when we feel compelled to add one, we have to look long and hard for the space and even sometimes purge a previous ‘keeper.’
Of course, I feel like bawling my eyes out when we have to weed books at the library.
P.S. Doris Ann-many thanks for the mention of library database resources. I select our databases it the hardest part of my job is getting patrons to understand and use them!
And I copied BOTH you and Andrea and blogged about our LONE bookshelf
. Check it out at
. Thanks!
http://pattispenandpicks.blogspot.com/ . What a great topic, and an inspiration to organize
My husband and I are both editors. We are also enablers. Neither can be the tough guy about the other’s book-hoarding because we both have the disease. It’s a bad situation, and our bookshelves are a dead giveaway.
Years ago I came up with a plan that I thought would at least contain the growth of books in our home: For every book we brought into the house, we would have to give one away. Brilliant idea, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to implement it. Oh, well.
Laura, I loved paragraph 5 of your journal entry–the one about the games you play with author names starting with a single letter of the alphabet. Very Thurberesque! It’s fun to see what juxtapositions occur alphabetically or by virtue of shared names or even geographic proximity (such as on one’s bookshelf). Once I was amused to see, on a single spread of the B volume of the World Book encyclopedia, articles on the Beatles, Queen Beatrix, Warren Beatty, and Simone de Beauvoir. (Who could all have met up at Heathrow Airport one day!)
About the bookshelves in my house: we have a copy of the Chicago Manual of Style on the bookshelves in our bathroom. Yes, we have bookshelves in all the bathrooms, it’s that bad. And yes, we have multiple copies of the Manual of Style–probably 5 or 6–so we don’t have to pound on the bathroom door if it’s occupied and we need to check on proper punctuation of a complex sentence. (Spare me the jokes about colons, please!) I don’t think I want to know what the Manual in the bathroom says about us.
–Karen
When I was a kid I would purchase a Sherlock Holmes paperback every so often, as my allowance allowed. At that time, new paperbacks were astonishingly 50 and 60 cents! (Today, $8???) But my investment paid off. I still have my Berkeley editions of the Canon, all with uniform covers. Most of them are rathered tattered and show evidence of many, many readings. My “Hound of the Baskervilles,” however, remains in pristine shape, save for some pages yellowed from age. I kept that book on the shelf with the others and had a separate “reading copy.” I should prune bookshelves more than I do, but those (also Joyce’s “Dubliners”) will never leave my possession. Nor will “What the Dead Know” signed by the author at her truly inspiring reading and appearance at the Thurber House in Columbus.
In my apartment on my shelves are all of Kingsolver’s novels, books by Toni Morrison and Alice Walker, Amy Tan, among others. Among mysteries are those by Sara Paretsky, Nevada Barr, Marcia Muller. Laura Lippman’s have been loaned to friends to read.
The posts about Beverly Cleary reminded me that I loved reading her books. I think her books spurred me on a lifetime of loving to read. Her books started me on reading under the covers with a flashlight way past my bedtime. I smile thinking of reading about Beezus, Ramona, Henry Huggins, Ribsy, but think I missed some and wonder if I should find them at the library and read them now.
A few years ago I purged my bookshelves and brought all books I was ready to part with, to the local library branch, where books are sold for a small amount. The funds are used to purchase new books, so while others would enjoy them, the library would benefit.
That spared the pain of paring down the books in my apartment, knowing others would benefit all around, while helping the library.
While clearing out my elderly mother’s apartment, I donated nine boxes of books to charitable resale stores, knowing people with AIDS would be helped.
My wife told me I couldn’t get a new laptop unles I donated some more books to the library. I did the same thing, looked through and bagged up the ones I didn’t think I would get to. They’re destined for the library.
Beverly Cleary’s great. I grew up with Ramona (and Henry and Beezus). Howie was the man!