Sunday, January 19, 2014
Regrets, I've had a few...
When I got the (perfect in just about every way) bookshelves I had nine years less books to home so it looked like they had plenty of space on them, and I wanted wall space for pictures too. They came from IKEA (who damn it all stopped selling them not long after) they are far bigger than any other flat pack bookshelves I've found since, pleasingly deep, have an inoffensive plainness about them, are sufficiently sturdy to stand up despite my questionable diy skills and the considerable weight placed on them (not so my billy bookcase which is wedged into a corner and balanced on some cardboard), and were wonderfully cheap. They are also full and overflowing so I can no longer find things which annoys me and it's hopeless to try and impose any sort of order which also annoys me.
I'm not one of those people who minds having a 1000 books or so that are unread, I rest easy at night knowing that however poor the future leaves me (though I'd rather it didn't) I'll never be short of something to read. I adore books as objects and for the memories they hold quite apart from the entertainment their contents offer. I hate getting rid of books. Partly this is because although I could spend the afternoon weeding out things I don't think I'll ever read again, and in a few cases just never read, and in the process probably clear out a second hand bookshops worth of stuff who's to say I won't want it again one day. It's also because I spent time (and money) on choosing to bring these things into my home because I do want to keep them.
Never the less I've had a root round and cleared out about 2 foot of redundant books, mostly reference works and mostly because I've got more up to date versions. It makes very little difference to the overall problem and I'm left feeling more than a little sad that the Oxford companion to Wine that saw me through all my WSET exams is going but what do you do? I'm not going to stop getting books unless people stop publishing books I'm likely to want, the idea of living in a home without them appals me, but the increasing disorder makes me crazy.