Marie Kondo
Much is being said and debated about Marie Kondo’s comment (of the life-changing magic of tidying up fame) that one should have only thirty books, and those few, only if they “spark joy.” That comment has since been exposed as not at all what Marie Kondo said, but a giant social media brouhaha that lasted about thirty seconds.
Many who have visited my book-laden apartment and others who’ve heard me lament the overcrowded shelves, the stacks on most every flat surface, including the floor in front of those aforementioned shelves—know and accept that I have a love affair with books. Perhaps not a healthy, balanced relationship, but one that is slightly obsessive and has no real boundaries. In this, I am not unlike most of my writers friends.
But what are we to do?
For example, I’m currently writing a memoir that takes place during 1990-91, after the death of my husband when I sold everything, packed a single bag and took off for a solo, around-the-world journey. While I have journals I kept from that time and some faded photographs, I continue to discover I’m missing details I want to include—the street names of hotels or pensions where I stayed, for example, or the location of cafes where I spent much of my time writing in those very journals.
I took a couple of travel guides with me on that trip, most notably Rick Steves’s Europe Through the Back Door. But, as I traveled city to city, country to country, I tore pages out of the b
ook and left them behind in an effort to make my one-suitcase load a little lighter. Of course, I can google-map the hell out of my research time, but we’re talking nearly three decades past. Many of those cafes and bookstores and pensions don’t exist anymore.
Then it occurred to me, why not google the hell out of used book sources and see if I could locate an old edition of Europe Through the Back Door. Which I did, a well-used 1988-89 copy. (Thank you Goodwill Industries of Middle Tennessee.)
Also, during the time I was traveling I visited used book stores in nearly every city where I loaded up on books that I bought, read, and left behind for the next traveler. One of those books that I carried on and on about in my journal was Pentimento, by Lillian Hellman. I wrote so much about it I decided I must read it again. So a trip to the library and I returned home with a hardbound copy (from 1973), which I look forward to re-reading to discover if the stories will touch me as deeply as they did on that solitary journey.
And while at the library, why not pick up …
Well, you know how it goes. On that trip, four additional books came home with me.
As I looked at these books scattered from morning writing table to reading chair to bedside stand, I thought to take inventory of what other books found their way into my apartment over the last few weeks from the library, local bookstores, online, poetry readings, gifts from friends and other sources. Here’s a list:
Make Blackout Poetry, by John Carroll (fun!)
New Micro–Exceptionally Short Fiction, edited by James Thomas and Robert Scotellaro
How to Pull Apart the Earth, a book of poetry by Karla Cordero, whom I recently heard read for the first time, but won’t be the last.
Strike the Empty–Notes for Readers, Writers, and Teachers of Memoir, by Beth Kephart
San Diego Poetry Annual 2018-19, published by the San Diego Entertainment+Arts Guild and Garden Oak Press (aka Bill Harding). Honored to have two poems published in this edition. Thank you, Bill and editors.
Joy Enough, by Sarah McColl
Life and Times of Lola Montez, written and sent as a gift to me by Ariel Morales
Kite Strings of the Southern Cross–A Woman’s Travel Odyssey, by Laurie Gough and given to me by Barbara Huntington, one of the members of my Tuesday Memoir Read & Critique group. We often exchange books, most of them memoirs, but not always.
Oh, and I recently picked up epitaph for a peach–four seasons on my family farm, by David Mas Masumoto at a used book sale at The Anthenaeum, while on a field trip to see an exhibition of book art by Genie Shenk.
I also rescued from a “giveaway” pile in the trunk of my car, that was on its way to the Goodwill, The 100th Boyfriend, by Bridget Daly and Janet Skeels. A delightful collection of short short, true stories that are just too good to not reread every few years.
There are more books, of course. Every once in a while I consider my children, who will be left this mess of overcrowded bookshelves and stacks here and there and everywhere. But what’s a book-loving woman to do?
I very much enjoyed reading this post Judy….
I’ve always been a book lover ever since I was a child and have always firmly committed to the idea that you cannot have too many books. Has I tell my partner when we go shopping, you cannot have too many books or clothes! Providing they are recycled to a good cause then I’m OK with this. Anyway most of these purchases are from charity shops, second hand shops, etc – the ‘bottom end of the high street.’ Some people I know seem bewildered by my collection of books but I always say to them: “Are we not deserving of this!”
Books are my education, my enlightenment. I came from a poor working class background where books were in short supply but that didn’t stop me accessing them in my local Carnegie Library and elsewhere. Books have nourished and comforted me. Eventually, they provided a solid platform to transform me, to transform my life. Books are my blessings……
Now, too many clothes? Well that’s another story!
Lady Murasaki’s Insight
“ In The Tale Of Genji, Lady Murasaki suddenly becomes aware of a new object of interest in her lover’s, Prince Genji’s, life. One morning, while they are still in bed, a messenger delivers to Genji a letter from the young woman. All of Lady Murasaki’s fears, heretofore considered, instantly fall away when she glimpses the girl’s handwriting. She knows Genji well enough to be sure that no matter how sensual he finds the youth, her shallow inner life, transparent in her penmanship, will not please him. “
GAIL SHER
Ah Michael, a man after my own heart. I too am books & clothes. Though I find my interest in clothes, while it hasn’t dimmed, my interest in shopping has. But books! I’ve just returned from the AWP Conference (Associated Writing Programs) in Portland. Among the myriad panels, readings, speakers, … a 10,000 sf (or larger?) Book Fair. I thought: this must be what heaven is. I only purchased … oh well, nevermind.
Always appreciate your thoughtful comments. Thanks for another Gail Sher quote.
Judy,
Your sharing about collecting books really touched me since I have a penchant for gathering so many books that I had to buy floor to ceiling bookshelves. I can’t walk into a library book store and come out empty handed…it’s impossible.
It’s too bad that I can’t garner knowledge from all of my books via osmosis…I would be very wise.
Meanwhile, I cam a slow reader and never seem to have enough time in the day to settle down in a comfortable chair and read. Cooking is my new hobby and I get excited by new recipes. Oh well, I managed to ship all my books from new York to CA when I moved here so they are like my “old friends” and no one wants to part with an old friend.
Hi Arlene,
Always lovely to hear from you. I know what you mean about finding time to settle in with a good book and just read and read and read. Sometimes I take a book with me on a walk and when I find a good cafe with good light and good coffee, I’ll settle in for a while.
I couldn’t agree more about our books being like “old friends.” To me, a house is not a home until it has at least two overcrowded bookshelves. Or maybe three. Or four.
Arlene, Judy,
Osmosis. There was a short little movie about that, likely on one of those twilight zone type shows. The aliens landed and got this guy and zapped him with the ability to know everything. In the end, this poor guy walks into a library. Where all the books are. And all their knowledge.
ZAP.
The guy’s head wasn’t large enough to hold everything but it’s all good because the aliens decided it was time to leave so they unzapped him and he was normal again.
And I used to watch stuff like that?
Judy,
Mess is right — what’ll I do with my mother’s framed embroidery of birds and deer worked in the late 50s? Nobody wants those. Those weren’t even made for me, they hung in her house til she died 50 years ago.
Kondos’ comments had no part of my living light, in fact I never heard of her til now. I decided when I moved into this particular suite (after three previous in the same building) that I would travel light. Two cold February’s saw stuff go into three boxes: dumpster, secondhand store, anyone who wants it after El Kiddo turns it down. Ancient dishes et al went into the dumpster (hold yours up to the light and see if they have those tiny little hairline cracks you don’t want cut into your food). Other people have husbands telling them not to bring home any more stuff.
So no book collections. Amen.
Books collect dust and must. So. I have a few (by Judy Reeves, you know her?) and just gave away a whole herd of ghost stories and weird tales. I use the library and order books for purchase, including those of other authors whom I want to see get ahead. That is how I found The Writer’s Book of Days and when I saw it as a book I would not live without, I ordered it.
Hey Linda,
Actually I only got about halfway thru Maria Kondo’s book before I got so discouraged, I had to put it away. On a shelf. With other books that will one day find their way… somewhere.
Meantime, thank you for finding mine and me and for keeping mine and for staying in touch all these years.