It is almost 2014 and, to mirror the tradition of the time
of year, I’d just like to reflect a moment on the year that was 2013. 2013 will
always, now, be known to me as the year I realised I’d become a compulsive book
hoarder and decided to do something about it. Like many self-discoveries, this
one has been a journey and a journey that has not ended and will not end until
I do. I have hoarding compulsions. Compulsions are rarely defeated easily (and
if they are it is more probable that they have simply been mis-described, exaggerated).
I have stopped buying books, or rather I have largely
stopped buying books. I consider this a considerable improvement. I have given
in, now and again. I am starting to recognise the key danger signs: a winsome
look from my daughter (a future hoarder if you ever saw one, as the pile of
unread ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ books is a testament to); days when I’m
feeling stressed or harried and I wander into the bookshop for a moment’s
respite amongst the shelves; the death of a favoured author (which is my key
excuse...I mean reason...for buying The Good Terrorist by Doris Lessing, which
was really awfully good and a worthwhile buy). I will confess, now, to having
bought several books in this past week. It was my birthday recently, and I was
given some money with which to buy some books so I finally invested in The
Story of the Stone, which I’m very much looking forward to reading. But that’s
it. The money is spent. No more.
I am starting to develop coping mechanisms, the most
important of which was rediscovering the library which I remain ashamed to have
forgotten. I must, at this point, take a moment to commend the absolute
excellence of the Lancashire Library Service, which provides a brilliant
service to the community. They have saved me several times from an impulsive
purchase. Instead my first port of call is now always the library catalogue and
I have been massively impressed at how quickly the Lancashire Library Service
responds to a popular new book. Through them I have read most of the Booker
nominated novels (those that I hadn’t already purchased before I stopped
myself), Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch (marvellous) and the fantastic Booker
winner Eleanor Catton’s The Luminaries. The ability to reserve a book, even if
I have to wait weeks for it, has been enough to assuage my urge. If there is
one thing I have learned this year it is this: use your library. Even if only
occasionally. They provide a magnificent service that helps so many people. At
a time when they remain under threat, boots through the door will help to
preserve them. They have books. They want you to take them.
Re-reading is something I really want to work on next year.
There are many books I would like to read again, and probably a small core of
books that I would love to become a part of my being. Having whizzed through
The Luminaries and The Goldfinch I would definitely like to read those two
again (aided, I should add, by the kindness of a friend who gifted me with my
own copies for my birthday). A Tale for The Time Being is another repeat I’d
like to make, alongside other more established books in my collection: Lost
Paradise and Rituals by Cees Nooteboom, The Last Samurai by Helen DeWitt, The
Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter, The True Deceiver by Tove Jansson, Remainder by
Tom McCarthy, Ghostwritten by David Mitchell, Jane Eyre to name but a few. I
could spend the whole year re-reading but I think I need to balance the re-reads
against the unreads so my ‘to-read’ pile continues to shrink. And then there
are the books yet to be. As always, my reading ambitions exceed my time and
ability.
I haven’t read Proust. I read the first book of Proust and
realised that if I stick to my pledge I may never buy another book again. I may
simply be too young (not that I get to say that much anymore) or maybe I’m not
of the right frame of mind, but I found his meanderingly pointless
repetitiveness spectacularly unappealing. It doesn’t really matter now. I have
learned so much about my book hoarding proclivities that I don’t think I need
the barrier of Proust to prevent me. What I want to do instead is make sure
that my buying matters, that it makes a difference. I am a proud subscriber to
And Other Stories, a not for profit organisation that publish some amazing
books on the back of individual subscriptions and I will continue to support
this organisation (and encourage others to do the same) in spite of my
commitment to hoard less. I would like to set aside a little money each month
and allow myself a single purchase, but instead of buying from Amazon or The
Book Depository or one of those other internet behemoths, instead I will head
down to my local independent bookshop (Ebb & Flow in Chorley, which carries
an excellent albeit small selection of books) and spend my money there. I feel
much happier spending a little more but putting money into a local community
business. There are so few these days, and my contribution will be small but
hopefully valuable. Overall I intend to spend less on books, but make my
purchases more considered and more carefully. I think that’s a reasonable goal,
for the person who once bought 47 books in one go.
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