Ok so here’s a random and vaguely related anecdote: There is currently a lot of DIY going on in my house, which means there are toolboxes and various pieces of equipment in my room. A couple of days ago my mum was helping me carry some stuff up there and I carefully reached over a mass of tools to turn on a plug, at which point I told her “You know we should move these because one day I’m going to actually step on that sword” She looked at me puzzled and said “sword?” At which point I replied “yes” She laughed “I think you mean SAW?”
I’ve been spending way too much time in the literary world lately, either that or art work’s fried my brain. Anhoooows thought you might find that vaguely amusing.
Now on with the post!
My book buying habit has reached an almighty high. I have never owned so many. You could say I’m a bit of book hoarder. Around a month ago I went up to my room with a fresh batch of brand new beautiful shiny books to place proudly on my shelves, only to realize that I had no space left. This isn’t the first time that this has happened either, except this time, it was on a somewhat larger scale. Luckily salvation was just around the corner in the form of a very thoughtful friend who donated to me one of her old bookshelves. So the problem is fixed – temporarily.
BUT I’ve already filled that bookshelf up, I’m now precariously squishing another layer onto it.
The issue is, I tend to take the approach adults do when buying their child a pet: A book is for life, not just for Christmas. This is the part when my friends nod enthusiastically condescendingly pat me on the head.
I can’t help it. I prize my books so highly. I love staring at them, it’s like looking at a wall of my accomplishments and a sea of possibilities; stories unknown just waiting to bestow their wisdom upon me. Lost teenagers searching for the meaning of life, 18th century females struggling to live with the constraints of their era, youths standing up against dystopian societies for what they believe in, dragons, magical rings, witches, vampires all cloaked in mystery and legend. Every single book on my shelf has a message it has taught me, or is going to teach me. They’ve broadened my mind, allowed me to study human nature from the safety of my bedroom, and have introduced me to new ideas and possibilities I never would have been exposed to otherwise…it really is impossible to sum up my love of books, I don’t have enough words…
Therefore I find it almost impossible to part with them. I think I have only ever thrown away a book maybe twice, and I haven’t gotten rid of any of my books since I was about nine. I feel like each one forms a part of my personality, they all have memories attached. J.K Rowling reminds me of my childhood, Cate Tiernan and Stephenie Meyer my tweenager years, Emily Bronte for my first classic experience, and Trudi Canavan for making me fall in love with fantasy for the first time. I could go on…
So I have decided as a temporary solution, to put in place a personal book ban. I currently have 143 books on my to be read pile, and it only keeps building. In fact this week I received four books in the post that I bought on ebay, and the week before that I bought IT by Stephen King from Amazon and a couple more from ebay. Around a month ago I brought a huge batch of twenty-two books from The Book People, including sixteen Charles Dickens books! (for the record my past experience with Dickens books have not been good…yet I bought them anyway because I have a book buying problem!) I also currently have a bid on ANOTHER BOOK. You get the picture… :S So yes, I am putting a ban on myself. I am not allowed to buy any new books (unless they are part of a series I already own) until I have read 60 TBR pile books. How am I going to cope?!?
A while ago I also added a TBR pile tab. Please feel free to visit this and let me know if there are any books on there you would like me to prioritize for reviews and I will try and get round to them as quick as I can. 🙂
So what I would really like to know from you, readers and fellow bookworms (if you’ve actually made it all the way through this half coherent rambling post) What do you do with your books once you’ve read them? Do they find their way to the bin? Do you offload them on friends? Perhaps you give them away to charity? Or sell them? Is there anyone else out there who is as soppily sentimentally attached to their books as me?
I would love to know your thoughts! 🙂
My own, please do not reuse.