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.
Slackerjo says
I read a lot, over a 100 books a year. I live in a small space so 99% of my books are from the library. About nine years ago I started a book review project as a way to a) keep track of what I read b) have a memory of the book without having to own the book.
I probably was the only kid growing up who liked to write book reports and each review is a little report. I write the reviews in a dollar store journal. When I started the project I didn’t always have access to a computer, so most reviews are handwritten. I uploaded a spreadsheet for my TEN fans on my website with a list and grade of each book and I post a few landmark reviews on the site. This is my way of keeping the books without actually keeping the books (the library frowns on the whole keeping thing). So instead of a bookcase crammed with books, I have eleven notebooks stacked on a shelf. I think it’s a good compromise.
Heidi says
I’m reading this while staying in a hotel. My home is filled with books. I’ve always seen them as an escape; each an entrance to a new world, or a different perspective of this one. They fill book cases, built in shelves, and random surfaces, and last week I even cleared out my VHS player and tapes from the entertainment center, to have space for more. I have bins under the bed in the spare room, and several boxes in a closet, all awaiting the dream of having a library room one day.
However, as I sit here in this clutter-free hotel room, I realize the burden those books carry. The first comment I made to my husband upon settling in to our room, was how wonderful it is, to be able to sit, read, and breathe, without feeling like I need to organize and clean.
I thought those books created a sanctuary, but this blog and time of reflection has given me incentive to let go, and savor only the best.
Thank you!
A says
Thank you so much for sharing this! I recently sold or donated almost all of my books, keeping seven that are really unique and not available electronically. I have a Kindle, and am an avid library user, but I do still buy the occasional print book from an independent bookstore. Now, though, I finish them and donate them to the library, following the same one-in-one-out rule I have for other purchases.
Amy@MoreTimeThanMoney says
Thanks so much for sharing this. I laughed when I read that you were saving your books to seed opening a second hand bookshop “one day”. I have a shelf of books that I have been saving to “one day” start a Little Free Library. I think my aim in sharing the books and having them read by others will have the best chance of being fulfilled if I let the books go and donate them to an upcoming charity book fair. Off to find a cardboard box …..
Simple Is The New Green says
I also gave away my book collection. I had moved so much that I didn’t want to haul books. What I did was I checked the library and if they had the book, it went. I then made sure that I at least tried reading all my books. Some just weren’t as good a read as the title suggested, so I tossed. Lastly, when it came to books I absolutely adored, I found that giving the book to a friend brought much more pleasure than letting it sit on a shelf and collect dust. I know have only four books. Two are pleasure/sentimental and two are reference.
Janet says
When our house was recently hit by a minor flash flood, I had to pack up and move out five floor-to-ceiling, double-wide, completely full, bookcases. It was a huge amount of work. The books weren’t damaged, but now that the floors have been cleaned and the bookcases moved back in, I’ve vowed not to refill mine. (Husband is another story). I am going through the boxes one by one and only taking out books that bring me joy when I pick them up. Out of eight boxes so far, I’ve only returned thirteen books to the shelves, as of last night. I will do this a few times and will probably take out a few more, but it was surprising to me how few of my books held much interest for me. They truly do expire.
Nicky says
What a wonderful tale. The author made it flow beautifully, as a fellow bibliophile I was nodding quite a bit. My family always encouraged my voracious appetite for books as a child, usually from the library as being a natural speed reader made book stores expensive. However, I was lucky in that aside from a single bankers box full of only my most treasured volumes; every move had all my books taken to the library that had supported me as a thank you. Yes, sometimes my adult self cringed at losing my first edition Nancy Drew books. However, I did not particularly enjoy the series and I wring my hands more over potentially lost value from selling. To this day my “untouchable ” selection is down to 12. A set called My Book House with short stories from all around the world that has been in the family since my grandpa first got them as a boy. I still read them a few times a year. Everything else is on Kindle or passed along. When you open up giving away books it is amazing how you know people that just need a certain volume you just finished.
James Ball says
Nicky, I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for your kind words.
A few thoughts on the Kindle. At first, I resisted for all the usual reasons, but now I love it. I’ve been able to discover rare works I might not have found otherwise. I’ve also rediscovered classics thanks to the free or nearly-free pricing on many public domain books.
And, one of my biggest complaints, namely – gasp! no one can see what I’m reading! – also turns out to be a benefit. If I feel like delving into some Clive Cussler for an easy beach read, I can just put on a studious face and pretend like I’m really reading Proust. It’s a win-win.
Lori in Prescott says
I saw the entire set of Nancy Drew books at Goodwill recently. $2.50 each. Anything you regret letting go of is always available somewhere.
Mommaofmany says
The Book House is most definitely a treasure! I have all but Vol. 1 on my collection. I also have her Picturesque Tale of Progress. I am a homeschooling momma with a large family, so I DO have many, many books, but most will be given to the kids as they grow up and start their own families. The rest will be liquidated as they are no longer needed.
Lori in Prescott says
I think moving books more than anything else makes one stop owning them. I have a dynamite local library that has many separate reading rooms, even on a large patio with a view of the mountains. People go there to actually read in a quiet, comfortable environment. Sofas and chairs are everywhere. There is a cafe for lunch. The “newspaper” room offers all the current newspapers and magazines. And of course there are many computers in private cubicles. Why would I ever want to own books? For those that just have to have that hunting lodge library look, there are many wallpapers available that are very realistic. You can accrue a massive collection in a day and never have to move it!
Jens says
I’m currently doing the same with my video games collection. In the past 12 months I sold nearly 200 games, but there are still over 100 to go. When finished, I’m still owning well over 300, but it’s a start.
At least I’ve learned by now that it’s useless to buy anything just because I want to but don’t have the time to use it directly. When I buy three new games, I still can only play one at a time. And by the time I finished the first, I might not be in the mood anymore to play the other two -> wasted money.
I think the same applies to all things in life. But it took a little time (and money) for me to realize this.
Brenda says
This was a wonderful post with great quotes that others have already mentioned. I, too, love books. I don’t have the large collections mentioned here, but I still have too many. I read very little fiction, as there just isn’t enough time. But, I have a lot of reference books on survival type subjects, as well as health, and a few favorites of old books that I reread occasionally. I have been through them and already pared down a lot. This article has inspired me to count the number and try to pare down more.