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.
Chris says
On the whole, books have been the toughest obstacle in my minimalist journey, even more than clothes. In spite of appearances, it is not very easy to purge them, especially when it comes to some older ones, which you want to find new place. Unfortunately, some libraries have become rather picky recently. For m the best solution has turned out be bookcrossing. I can truly recommend this way of decreasing our amount of books. Generally, knowing that my books are not covered with dust and they can serve others is a really nice feeling. Books should be used, not embellish our shelves. Lastly, I agree with everything what is written in the article above. Greetings!
Matthew says
I have an internal debate I hope the community can help me with. It concerns “professional books”:
I have successfully reduced my book collection by about 70%. I only have 15 “personal books”–the best of the best. Most of my fun books are from the local library.
However, I have 292 “professional books” in my office–I am a parish pastor. I really don’t want all these books and I only use about 20% of them on a regular basis.
Yet I also don’t want a bunch of empty built-in book cases. I also don’t want people to come into my office for counseling and think that I’m not a continual learner (you want your doctor, lawyer, accountant, teacher, etc. to have a supply of professional books, don’t you?). Finally, if I discard, say, my complete set of Martin Luther’s works, I know I’ll never have the money to buy a replacement set.
So, your thoughts on professional books would be helpful.
Kota says
One way to make bookshelves look “fuller” without having so many books is to include some decorative objects in between some of the books to use up some extra space. Google “bookshelf organization ideas” and look at some of the pictures. They give a good idea of what I’m talking about.
Another thing that might work for you (that I’ve used in my own office) is to take a few of the shelves for file/paper/misc stuff storage. Using nice-looking containers will hide the items you need to keep and will add a decorative element to the shelves. It will also allow you to condense your book collection without it looking as sparse.
Also, can you re-configure the shelves in any way? If you make them further apart, that would help “fluff” out your collection without having to keep so many of them.
Sucheta Rao says
OMG! It’s been the next thing on my agenda for my becoming minimalist resolution. I still cant bring myself to donate to a library. Every time I open my books cupboard and look at my collection I just sigh and shut the doors. Same goes for a hugh collection of soft toys. Infact, it is going to give me so much storage space once all of it is gone. Reading a blog like this is heartening and motivating
Slackerjo says
You could donate the books to the library and visit them if you get lonely!
shaloo says
I can so relate to this! I am a book lover/ hoarder too. I buy books even when I am feeling low because that’s my way of cheering myself up. There are so many unread books lying around in my house seeking my attention but still I can’t help buying a book if it seems appealing. I have not stared paring down the books yet but I am trying to stop buying books on an impulse. I have given away my childhood collection of comics to an orphanage and my son’s collection to my friends’ kids. I have sold a couple of books on ebay which I didn’t particularly enjoy. Just taking little steps at the moment!
Ethan Caine says
Last summer I put ALL except one book into plastic bins and donated them to the library. It was touch, I had HUGE emotional attachment to these books but in the end I am so glad I did it.
FREEDOM!
I made a list of all the books I donated and gave myself permission to purchase it on Amazon Kindle with the condition that I read it right away.
Aseret says
As someone else said, growing up poor and not having access to a library made me a book hoarder. I loved the way they looked and smelled and felt in my hand. I married a voracious reader, a man who read several books a week. He had favorites that he would read over and over until they wore out and had to be replaced.
My husband died at age 53, my kids were grown, and I no longer needed a five bedroom Victorian house. I bought a sweet little 920 square foot bungalow. What about the books? That’s when I went through the house and counted 17 book cases. I had no idea how many I had. I wanted to keep his for sentimental reasons, but then I thought, “Why?” We had very different taste in books. I knew I would never read any of them. I was starting over and those had to go. Our kids took the books that they wanted. I decided that I would only take what would fit in one large three-section bookcase. I was an English major and I was going to move the Nortons, but then I tried to remember the last time I had even taken them off the shelf. They went. I still have more than I need, but I continue purging. Thank you for this wonderful article.
Mary says
I’ve dropped most of my subscriptions to minimalist blogs because they are so incredible. I truly had no idea people lived like this. Why would one have books one does not read? And keep books not worth rereading? I just don’t understand. I’ve always been offended by the notion of purging my books, but I’m beginning to think I’m learning I’m not on anyone’s same page to begin with!
Graeme says
I agree — I have a lot of books, but I’ve read all of them. Every now and then I get rid of the ones I’ll never reread.
Admittedly it sometimes takes a while before I admit I’ll never read them again, but if I buy a book in the first place it’s because I plan to read it pretty much the same day I buy it.
There’s probably a difference between seeing yourself as a book collector or a book reader.
Sharon says
One woman’s books are another woman’s shoes or yarn stash. Consider yourself lucky you were never been bitten by the book collecting bug.
Val says
I laughed out loud when I got to the Norton Anthology! I carried around the Norton Anthology of English Literature for a long, long time and tons of other books. And I actually opened a used bookstore for a short while, and managed to collect thousands of books!! Thank you for this. I am now down to about 100 or so books, not counting the kids books and our homeschooling books. I too feel more free to read now that I have gotten rid of the physical books. And I agree about books “spoiling”, I too am a Stephen King fan, but find them harder to read now. And my beloved Sci Fi books don’t hold that same cache either.
Cindy says
Mr. Ball, what a beautifully written post! Thank you! From the comments, it’s obvious that you struck a chord with many folk – you have helped and encouraged us to think about our beloved books and deal with them. I actually read the post twice (and am saving it to reread and ponder a bit more). Your definition of books’ purpose – “to extract an experience or bit of knowledge from it and pass it along” – resonated with me. Though I have passed on about seven bookshelves worth of books in the last five years, I have one more I’d like to move along. I think your comment about living authentically is spot on. Thank you, again. You have quite a way with words, sir!
Victoria says
I can totally relate to this – I have about 800 books right now, and that is down from 1500 a few months ago. I’ve given myself a year to bring the number down to 100. When I was a child, my family couldn’t afford very many books, so in my adult life having a lot of books made me feel “wealthy”. But now they are just weighing me down. It is time to release most of them and read the few I truly care about. Plus, I’m contemplating a cross country move next year and don’t want to pay to move boxes of heavy books, so there’s that too!