Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from James Ball, a former newspaper reporter who thought his story might help others.
A 32-gallon plastic storage container holds approximately 50 paperback books, or 25 hardbacks. If you stack them the right way, you can cram in an extra five paperbacks.
I know this from experience as a book hoarder.
Over the years, I’ve housed dozens of these boxes in my garage. I’ve also stuffed them into closets and tucked them away in guest bedrooms telling myself that “someday” I’d get around to reading the books that had looked so irresistible at the bookstore. But I was lying to myself.
For me, collecting books was no longer a hobby. It had become a labor that was encroaching into my physical space and taking up way too much mental space. Worst of all, I was paralyzed by too many choices, meaning I never read anything anymore.
Something had to give.
A decade ago, my maternal grandmother – the woman who taught me to love books – suddenly died. After the funeral, we set out to clean out her condo.
My grandmother wasn’t a hoarder by anyone’s definition of the word. There were no endless, messy piles of stuff in her house. In fact, she proudly kept her house very tidy and organized, but as we dug into her closets and dressers, it was clear she collected a lot of things. Christmas decorations with price tags still affixed to them, unopened orders from home shopping networks, and – much like myself – a massive collection of printed materials including books.
In her final years, my grandmother led a fairly lonely existence. She had family nearby, and I suspect occasional dinners with them probably blunted the edges of her solitude, but these short visits weren’t enough to fill every single hour. She likely experienced more lonely, existential moments than joyous ones in her final years. Buying things had filled a certain void in her life.
Why, then, in the fullness of life, did I need so many things, I asked myself? I had everything that already mattered. As I hauled the last box of her possessions to a donation center, I vowed that when my time was up, I’d leave my wife and children with memories and experiences, not the chore of cleaning up after me.
When I turned 40, I kicked off a long period of introspection and reflection. I took stock of my life and everything in it. As I read about the minimalist movement, I was drawn to its simplicity and its inherent promise that, with less stuff you actually become a richer person in all aspects of your life.
I read everything written by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus. I became a follower of Joshua Becker and Leo Babauta’s blogs and hung onto every word written by Courtney Carver and Francine Jay.
I nodded my head as they spoke of decluttering and removing the inessential. But while I agreed in principle, it was clear I had a problem.
Still, these were my books. My Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. 1 might not be worth more than a penny on Amazon, but I had toted this very book to my freshman English 102 class at the University of Georgia in the fall of 1991, poring over short stories by Thoreau and Melville. Surely, that had personal value. And hadn’t I always dreamed of someday opening a used bookstore with an ancient three-legged cat roaming its dusty stacks? When that day came, I would have enough books to seed the business. Note: this is exactly how we lie to ourselves.
I had enjoyed almost none of them because I had lost sight of the purpose of owning a book – to extract an experience or bit of knowledge from it and pass it along. By acting this way, I was not only being selfish, but I was doing a massive disservice to myself and others. These books no longer represented joy. They represented unrealized potential and I knew it was time for most of them to go.
I realized that if you’re hanging onto something for no other reason than sentimentality or the thought that, “someday, I’ll need this,” you’re not realizing your fullest self. You’re living inauthentically.
It’s only when we strip away the possessions weighing us down that we can see clearly who we are and what we want to be. Tossing things for the sake of tossing them is a fruitless exercise, but I’d reached the point where my avalanche of books had made me stop loving something I’d once found great joy in. It was the right solution for me.
Getting rid of my excess books wasn’t easy, and it took time. I found myself stalling on purpose.
So I did what any reasonable OCD sufferer would do: I set a firm number for the maximum number of books I’d own. I began paring my collection down from well over 1,000 to 100 of the most essential books – a small number of which I would display for their aesthetic value, but a majority of which I would read and pass along until I owned very few of them then focus on reading solely on my Kindle.
The guy who runs the Boys and Girls Club of America donation trailer has gotten to know me well.
“More books?” he always asks when I drop off another storage container.
“Some good ones today,” I always tell him.
I’m not there yet. As of late July 2015, I’m down to a dwindling selection of 200 books. It’s an improvement that’s yielded an unexpected benefit. With the clutter gone, I’ve had a strong urge to read more. I read voraciously, at least two books a week now.
Suddenly, someday is now. I’d wanted to read Stephen King’s Cujo for nearly 30 years. With the extraneous removed from my life, I finally sat down and read it. Verdict? Decent, but I should have read it a long time ago when it was more my style. This is the danger of holding onto something for too long: it can spoil.
Newly energized in my reading, the only limit is my time, not my desire to collect more books only to squirrel them away in a box.
Another book that survived the cut is Thoreau’s Walden, which I’m currently re-reading. It’s the perfect palate cleanser in my journey to a place where, with each passing year, I accumulate less and less stuff. Maybe my grandkids will thank me someday.
***
James Ball is a former newspaper editor who lives in Northern Nevada with his wife and two sons. He wants to write as a way to help others—not just for work.
Carol says
Like so many others,I was struck by the line about holding on to things for to long and having them spoil. I was an avid book collector in my 20’s and 30’s. As I have gotten older, I use the library more and am thinning my collection. I have read books I’ve kept, thinking I would reread them and many of them did not stand up with my memories of them. And honestly, I don’t reread much any more–too many new things out there.
This is a terrific article—thanks for sharing.
Me, here, now. says
I could have written this myself. By that, I mean this could be me. This was / is me. I started collecting books years ago. Then around four years ago, I started collecting books seriously. Charity shops & eBay were my downfall. Three years ago, my grandmother died and I kept all of her books (she was a teacher). By the beginning of this year, my collection swelled to well over 3,000 various books in many genres including antique and vintage tomes. It was my own private library (which in my mind I was building for when I moved into a vast house in the country and became a famous author. By the way – with the amount of money I have spent on books (and thousands of other unnecessary items in my life), I could have put a down payment on a vast house in the country). I digress: I even had an area in my apartment called ‘The library’. It had a fireplace with cozy fireside chairs, a beautiful antique Kilim rug, reading lamps with pleated silk shades and of course the books. It was so ‘in order’, a librarian would have been impressed. I loved it; it was my haven. Yet, I hardly read a single book. Admire them on their shelves, yes. But read, no. Since then I have given to charity, family or sold at least 2,500 of them. I have a way to go (and still buy the odd book), but I feel liberated for letting go. I now read a book a week, and have even managed to bring my Stephen King collection to the front – ready to read. I have just a small collection of the classics, some books on writing (plus dictionaries, chronicles etc) and languages, then the rest are ones that reflect my hobbies and work: floristry, baking, cooking, interiors, France and anything else creative that I love. Despite loving my ‘library’, I felt like I had a lead weight permanently attached to me. I felt trapped: how would I ever move them if I wanted to move house; how would I relocate them all if I wanted to move abroad for a time? These books, literally stifled and suffocated me. Now, I’m free. Moving is an option and taking a small collection of books is too. One thing I lost sight of, is that we have these amazing things …. called libraries (for now at least!). If I need a book, that’s where I’ll be heading.
James Ball says
I’m really glad you enjoyed it and thanks for sharing your story, too. Sounds like we’re kindred spirits. My Stephen King hardbacks and first editions also made the cut and are displayed together on an upstairs shelf. Next to them is a copy of “Cider House Rules” personally signed for me by John Irving. I think if I had to pick a single book to keep, it’d be that one. But that’s the point, right? Only keep the ones that brings that “spark of joy,” and pass the rest along to someone who will find magic in them.
Mary Brady says
“By the way – with the amount of money I have spent on books (and thousands of other unnecessary items in my life), I could have put a down payment on a vast house in the country).”
When I worked, I too spent large amounts of money on books and on whatever was my “flavor of the month.” I never put us in financial danger, but I could have retired several years earlier if I had invested the better part of the money.
Marti says
I did the same thing after my last move. I donated over 500 books to my local library. As I was sorting through all the books I made some unexpected discoveries. A few of them were 100 years old and quite rare. I never noticed before because I had too many books. I kept them. I also kept any book signed by its author.
Karen Allbright - Calm Order Professional Organzier says
Always inspiring one way or another. This blog was one that I know many of my clients can appreciate.
Andrea says
Amazing guest post! I’ve been struggling with my books lately. I love reading but I own too many books at home and I can’t decide which one to read first. And when I finally pick one book:
“This is the danger of holding onto something for too long: it can spoil.”
Sharon says
I stopped reading about 10 years ago because I didn’t feel like reading any of the hundreds of books I had stored about the house. Since moving house about a year ago I have given most of my books to the local charity shops, finally admitting to myself that I was never going to read all of these books – books that I ‘should’ be reading.
I now spend time visiting the local library and have started to enjoy reading again. My reading is spurred by knowing that a book has to be returned within three weeks and I usually get through a book a week. I am so glad I gave away my books.
Dee says
Very inspiring… I’m overwhelmed by the 100 or so novels that I own… Plus there’s always the question of whether to keep them after reading.
James Ball says
It’s true, there’s a certain appeal to keeping what I call “trophy” books. True story: I read a certain epic, historical novel in fits and starts over the course of a decade. You’d better believe I kept that one when I pared my collection down. To me, it represented perseverance. Now, when I glance at it on the shelf, it’s a gentle reminder to stick with things I believe worthwhile.
Reinette says
A few months ago, after years of talking about it, I decided to halve the amount of books on my shelves, which I did. The more I looked at the remaining books the more they bugged me and I had another clear-out, and then another. I now only have dictionaries and other reference books, maybe 20 in total and only one bookshelf, down from 4, and I can BREATHE.
Pat says
I needed this post to get me moving again in paring down my own book collection. Now, what would you charge for a personal intervention with my husband about paring down HIS collection?! Ha Ha. Just kidding…I think…
Daisy @ Simplicity Relished says
“This is the danger of holding onto something for too long: it can spoil.”
^ Words that are brilliant. Thank you for setting an example of how things hold value according to their usage.
Eric B says
I was also going to highlight this exact same observation! A great insight into the fact that by the time Tomorrow arrives, we may have changed significantly.
On a different note: among my peer group, just replace “books” with “Steam games” and this an urgently relevant anecdote :)
Jeffrey A says
Was just coming down here to comment on this same line.
“This is the danger of holding onto something for too long: it can spoil.”
This observation has helped me pare down on both books and movies. After re-watching The Neverending Story – a movie that I LOVED when I was growing up – I had the same realization. Just because something was meaningful to Past Me, doesn’t make it meaningful to Present or Future Me.
Joy says
Oh, I like that: ‘Past Me’, ‘Present Me’, ‘Future Me’. I too have found that items that I thought were so fantastic years back, have lost their luster on ‘Present Me’, so obviously, ‘Future Me’ was not going to enjoy them. Great article Mr. Ball. Thank you so much for giving me another perspective on more reasons for getting rid of things we no longer need–there may be others out there just waiting for these items to drop into their hands!
James Ball says
Thanks for the comments, guys. I’m so glad you got some value from this piece.
Interestingly, I came to this conclusion not with a book, but with a prized bottle of wine I’d been hanging on to for a special occasion. Apparently, it didn’t hold up as well as I’d hoped through several moves and inconsistent storage. Sipping vinegar made me realize that the time to enjoy something is often right now, not at some uncertain date in the future.