My collection of unread library books has become ridiculous and obscene.
It’s not entirely my fault. The library board, somewhere, long ago decided that patrons should be allowed to check out 50 books at a time. This was the beginning of the end for all of us who love books everywhere and perhaps for those of us who have a tendency towards addiction going back on both sides of our family. I’m sure this seemed fair and reasonable, someone probably said something silly like, well done folks, that’s a lot of books for people to check out.
It is a lot of books…for some people. It is a lot of books and yet, I find myself suddenly, offended when I hear a low buzzer sound, which insinuates like on a game show that I’ve guessed wrong - accompanied by a red bubble pop-up saying I need to see the librarian - and I know - I know because I glance at the status box in the upper right-hand corner and feel despair - I’ve hit my max. No more books for you (said in the voice of the Seinfeld soup nazi).
When this happens I usually think two simultaneous thoughts. One, I cannot put these books back, someone else will take them and they are mine. Two, this is crazy, I definitely do not have 50 books sitting at home. Then of course I start to have visions of the kid’s books I noticed that morning shoved under the bed and I wonder how many have been lost to the novel-loving dust bunnies. Don’t tell anyone but I definitely have more than 50 books sitting at home.
The thing is we as a family promptly, smoothly, and without shame sidestepped this archaic limit by obtaining a library card for my 9-year-old. So now at any time, we can have 100 new books in the house - all for FREE people!! This is the part that kills my pause button, the free part; my pause button would whisper, let’s wait just a second and think if we will be able to read all these books…but the other part says, I don’t care, I chose them, I love them, I’m bringing them home- they’re free and they are mine.
It’s a cheap delight (I say cheap because it’s free but delight is priceless isn’t it?) in a world where most things have gotten ridiculously expensive, there is an excitement that springs up when I can effortlessly claim a book as mine moments after hearing about it. Part of the problem is that it is effortless. The online “my account” library system gets me in trouble almost daily. I can upon hearing about a book, from anywhere (the park, my kids' Kali class, in bed) simply open up my phone, log into my Hennepin County Library account (my login information is saved), and with two taps and a little hip shimmy of joy be hitting “place hold.” Come to momma! My “in transit” list is long - very long. There are truckfuls of books heading to my library. I know this because there’s a little adorable picture of a truck next to my “in transit” list. One time I went to pick up my holds and they had put my books on a whole separate shelf beneath the usual hold shelf setup for the people who don’t love books...not like I do. At first, Esme and I thought there was a mistake. Our books which we’d been told were ready were not in fact there - but silly us no, they just had to put them on their very own storage shelf.
It just makes me happy, to bring all these book babies home. That is until they start to whine and cry that I never pay attention to them…That’s the thing about babies they like to be paid attention to. As with most things we believe are a good idea at first but haven’t really thought through we can and will find ourselves overwhelmed… We may start grumbling inadvertently, quiet down over there! I’ll be there in a second! I’m trying! There’s just so many of you.
Progress has been made here and there; I’ve gotten through the first chapter of Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye, Susan Cain’s Bittersweet is 13 days overdue and I’ve definitely read the back cover several times, I devoured the first page of Diana Athill’s Somewhere Toward the End and thought this is brilliant and beautiful and I can’t wait to get into this one (that was a week ago), I have almost finished the Parent’s Tao Te Ching but that’s because the chapters are very very short in true Tao form. And this doesn’t even touch on the non-fiction tragedy that’s happening in the shadows or the fact that my hold list as mentioned is truckload deep and could be delivered any day - It’s like this with all of them - I love them all but,…well…you get the drift.
It’s a strange denial like I said, paired with a subconscious pressure, masked in gleeful satisfaction. I bring them home giddy and pleased with myself. I find a place for them…several places actually. If you were to walk through my house you would notice them everywhere; on both sides of our blue couch stacked neatly under the side tables, sometimes on the piano bench, often on the stairs going up to the attic so that I can remember to take them with me in case I have a moment between lessons, they are in my purse, the tote hanging on the coat rack, the bathroom of course, the bedroom on the nightstand and strewn all over my bed…juuuust within reach.
This is all deliberate I suppose. I purposeful scattering of these little possibilities of pleasure. No matter what room I am in, I can as needed stretch out my hand and pick up a book I love and read it for ten minutes…sometimes two minutes..sometimes fifteen seconds. It’s like putting on a cardigan you love for a minute cause you see it draped there on the couch, it’s your favorite color, it reminds you of a French film you saw in college or a picture you saw once of a rainy day in Kyoto you want to be in it - nevermind that it’s not even cold in the house, it just feels good to have it on for a moment - just a moment because you immediately notice that it’s hot in the house and the cardigan is making you sweaty, the sleeves are a bit itchy because you were wearing a t-shirt. The truth is it’s not the right time for cozy sweaters and you have things to do. You felt like the cozy version of yourself for a second. Satisfied at that moment. But sometimes. More often than not - It makes me happy until it makes me sad. There’s a turning point around week two when I haven’t touched a book I was really excited to start where I feel despair. That’s it. I’m just going to take them all back! Forget it! Who am I kidding? I’m stubbing my toes on books. I need to make some room….probably for different books.
I was talking to a friend yesterday and she asked who says you actually have to read all the books cover to cover? I answered. I do. And she asked why. Because, I said, I want to. But the truth is I never will, not in this season as they call it, I just don’t have the time. I like to think that there is an alternate reality happening simultaneously where the books that I’ve brought home are being read by me in a quiet house. Our yappy dog is not in that universe and the cat likes to snuggle instead of attack my legs. Also, the second truth which is harder to swallow is that my brain would be very bored with one book that I must finish, sitting on the bedside table downstairs. It mostly likes having a hundred books to choose from at any time in all places throughout the house…well, maybe not a hundred. Maybe five.
But there’s also the darn annoying truth of my days. How the hours are divvied up. There’s the truth of how it feels to create pressure from wanting something that just doesn’t quite fit into the whole picture, but pretending it does and having it take up space in my house. My actual house and the house of my head. All the babies; the book ones and the human ones - yelling Mom! Mom! Mom! In various octaves… every four seconds….all. day. long.
The joy of desire and delight is free. Reaching out and grabbing for the things we love feels good. But all that reaching can, before you know it, make things crowded, and then there’s the currency of our time. It can start to, as my friend Beth says, feel squeezy. Maybe I won’t bring home so many next month - maybe I’ll leave some space on the shelf. I’d like to actually read Bittersweet. And that might happen if there weren’t so many other books calling from the corners.
Then again, Chris doesn’t have a library card yet…that’s 50 extra books we could bring home and look at. After all, nobody but me is saying I have to read them cover to cover, I could peruse. Perusing is probably healthier; not so intense which ties into addiction and stuff. Besides, I do have some room left in the kitchen…also, the car. I could make room. Did you hear about Green Frog - Stories by Gina Chung? I’m number 7 on the hold list….maybe it’ll come next month on a cute little library truck right into my arms.
I feel ya! I stack of new books is so thrilling, yet so hard to get to. I have several I’m excited to start but I can’t because I have to finish the one I’m on because it’s stupidly popular and like 107 are waiting for it. But I don’t even like it! But I have to finish it in case it’s actually good.
I loved reading this, brought back memories, you always checked out as many books as possible, all thrue your childhood!