The uncertainty and never-ending unknowing may soon end. For the past year, there has been no dry land on the horizon. But we may not be adrift much longer.
To stay afloat, we are casting overboard anything that might sink the lifeboat. This is hard. We have so many THINGS. And we realize that much of this we have had, not because we NEEDED it, but because we had the space for it. And so we fill the space.
Now the space-to-come is shrinking to a fraction of the room we have had, all our married lives, for stuff. As we downsize yet again, so very much of the stuff we have had will have no place.
And that includes our books.
BOOK TRIAGE IS AGONY
And so it has been necessary to arrive at a new way of thinking about the fate of our books. It is a solution of necessity—a pragmatic move, given that our very small future "home" will have no room for bookshelves.
But this decision also reduces the psychic burden of decision making.
The fate of every book on our shelves requires a decision--sometimes easy, but often exhausting and saddening.
To make shorter and less onerous, we will each select a half dozen books from the lot; set the small box of them aside clearly marked as "Fred’s or Ann’s Reading Matter" and the rest, without any thinking or emoting at all, go into crates bound for other readers.
The few books we select will be the books we'll actively reading and want near us when we move in a few months.
Books that we have jettisoned, we can read again—or for the first time—by checking them out from the library in the retirement community where we will live, or from the Boone County (Missouri) public library, or download and read books on the iPad. No shelves needed.
We have found comfort or stimulation in having hundreds of books where we have lived, reduced from 70 linear feet of bookshelves on Goose Creek to our current 40 feet of shelf space loaded with books.
I have suggested taking pictures of the shelves as they exist, so we can recall titles, authors and our history with those influential books that changed the way we see the world and ourselves.
THE BOOKS WE HAVE ABOUT US
Now, we will not have the physical books in hand, including not a few I purchased over the years to read "when the time is right." Now the time is right, but the space is not.
I regret the loss of that possibility, but hope my unread book will benefit the future recipient who is delighted to find it at the thrift store, yard sale or book shop. Eventually, he or she will confront book triage. Good luck, pilgrim.
We will still have books around us in our small space, but they will go back to the library after a week or two. This will give us a few more cubic inches of room to live in when we're not reading.
That said, I have acquired two books this week, in violation of our new self-imposed rules.
One is a Kindle book; the other will be in my "Reading books" box for the settling-in phase in our new tiny 800 square feet of space 800 miles away.
The paper book "For the Time Being" from AbeBooks is Annie Dillard's last-published work called "For the Time Being." I expect some heavy slogging within, but worth the effort. Short quotes or simple sentences from Dillard are rare as hen’s teeth, but here’s one that seems appropriate to our future un-stillness:
"if you stay still, earth buries you, ready or not."
Annie Dillard, quote from For the Time Being
And yesterday I just received the Kindle version on the first day of its release: "Then I am, Myself, The World" by Christof Koch, whose work I have been following these past couple of years.
From a brief review (Harvard Book Store...)
“Koch reveals when and where consciousness exists, and uses that knowledge to confront major social and scientific questions: When does a fetus first become self-aware? Can psychedelic and mystical experiences transform lives? What happens to consciousness in near-death experiences? Why will generative AI ultimately be able to do the very thing we can do, yet never feel any of it? And do our experiences reveal a single, objective reality?”
CLOSING THE BOOKS on OUR BOOKS
If you confront this daunting fate-of-the-tomes challenge in your future, our brutal book remedy might save you from facing the future angst of deciding the fate of each book on your shelves.
And I know we may be talking about hundreds of books; hundreds of decisions that will sap the energy you have in diminishing supply. Choose a few. And move on.
We rid ourselves of nearly 500 books when we downsized. And yet, we still own 2-300, plus 50+ kindle books. I still find myself missing one we got rid of, and it comes as a shock to realize I don’t own that anymore.
Dear lord - I cannot imagine.
Having five - count 'em - FIVE glorious floor to ceiling bookcases in mynliving room alone, and anywhere from two to four bookcases in every other room in the house including the kitchen and dining room - on which to house not only my books but many that belonged to my husband and a friend of his who bequeathed his entire library to us when he died - a wealth of history that included some wonderful first editions of things like Uncle Tom's Cabin and several by Mark Twain - trying to envision this task you describe for myself sounds like a fate worse than death itself. It would be like cutting off my leg, or indeed my own head. Couldn't do it. IMPOSSIBLE. I mean, at any given time I am in the process of reading about 20 books, with the next reads lined up in orderly fashion on three small shelves that each hold about 30 to 40 books. And yes, I read about 150 books a year, including the children's books I read to my Mimi-children. Those are the best ones ;)
Now, don't get me wrong, I do have rules about owning books. They have to books I will read, or need for reference or research. Once I've read a book, if I'm reasonably sure I won't need it or read it again, I find a person or organization or even a Little Free Library to pass it on. But there are books I simply could never do without, many out of print or simply rare. Irreplaceable.
I would sooner give up having a kitchen than my home library. A home without bookshelves? Perish the thought. But I admire your ability to be forthright and courageous about your decision, though it gives me agida to even think about. Bless you ♡