Christmas and my birthday usually mean an influx of about 10 books, and now I get the odd contributor copy of some books, and knowing as many fellow writers as I do now, I go to a lot of launches, at which not buying the book is what I consider a Real Dick Move.
As a result, none of the books waiting on my shelves ever seem to get read.
Sidonie and I share a store-top apartment with a square footage of about 685, a small floor that I worry will one day collapse under said shelves. The "book problem" has long been lingering, but it's only since early 2013 that I committed to tackling it. Here's the thing, though: I don't intend to just throw the books out on the street; any old idiot could do that. My plan also involves reading the books - which is slow even for a fast reader, which I think I am, at about five books a month.
What follows is the step-by-step approach to book-culling that I'm taking, and I'm already recommending it, because it's already working.
|The non-fiction, drama and poetry shelf... |
onto which a novel has crept regardless.
Step 2: Loans. Got that 500-page brick that came highly recommended a year ago, from a friend? Your friend probably does intend to get it back... and what's more, the book was only supposed to be in your possession temporarily. The loans might not have been called in, but you can call them in yourself. These ones are easy to unload. Pile them, read them if you haven't yet, and return them. And if you haven't seen the person in a few years, and aren't likely to, don't hang on to these; the loan's already been written off, you can't redeem yourself now. Unless it's amazing, dump it.
|A shelf that's all unread books, including|
(shamefully) some my friends have written.
Step 3: Duplicates. In my own library, I don't have this problem, but I've heard of it happening to friends. Repeat after me: There is no good reason to own two copies of the same book yourself. And if your duplicate comes by way of your partner, unless s/he is royally territorial, be the bigger person and get rid of yours. Ask to borrow to reference or reread, should it come up. (It likely won't.)
Step 4: School assignments. When it comes to the "But really, will I read this again?" question, it's easiest to answer with a book you were forced to read. Textbooks, too; remember having to make sure you had the most up-to-date edition for your courses every year? How long's it been since you were in school now? That's what I thought.
Step 5: Trophies. We've all read some big, difficult books. But if you're not referring back to it regularly, you don't need to own it to be proud of having gotten to its end. Sorry, Midnight's Children, Booker-of-Bookers winner: take it outside. You take up as much space as Raymond Carver's whole career.
|John Irving's one of my favourite writers...|
but even if this is the best book I ever read,
it's going in the blue bin when I finish.
Step 7: Books in poor condition. You thought you could recover it after dropping it in the bathtub. You can't. No shame in putting this lame horse out to pasture. Books get pulped all the time. That's why it's another name for most of the ones you unloaded in Step 6.
Step 8: Books you didn't love... or even like all that much. You won't reread them. No. You won't. And if you want to - once the project's over and the moratorium's lifted - you can go get them from the library. Why hang on to them if they might just suck again?
Step 9: No, really - will I ever read this again? This is where it gets hard. It might be the surprise ending, or it might be a depressing overall tone, but a lot of very good books just won't be fun to read a second time. I'm a big Steinbeck fan, but pretty much everyone else on Earth could throw out The Grapes of Wrath after reading it once: there's little subtlety to discover the second time through - I speak from experience - and the ending is so crushing and unforgettable that you can't really root for the Joads more than once. It's a great book, but it's probably just taking up space. You'll have more of these than you think. Don't feel bad. Your friends won't notice that you "haven't read" Jane Eyre, Moby Dick or War and Peace, because, hey: they haven't either!
|The heart of darkness.|
See? Any old idiot can do it.
How do you deal with ever-increasing book piles? Leave any suggestions, tricks or even only-vaguely-related anecdotes in the comments below. Together, we'll defeat this wonderful affliction.