Anne here. My book cull is continuing at a very s l o w pace. It's nearly a year since I moved, and the new bookshelves were finished by Christmas — I know, disgraceful that I'm still not finished. But I have plenty of space and the boxes of books that are piled up are in a spare room that I don't particularly need. I mostly read on an e-reader now so there's no urgency to get at the books. As well, I've been busy writing. And partly it's because I injured my shoulder and find it difficult to lift anything. I'm undergoing physical therapy for that, so things should improve.
It's not as if I have no room for books. I have a new built-in bookshelf that covers the entire wall of my office. (see pic) The little sticky notes you can see are to roughly sort them into alphabetical order.
I also have a 5 x 3 ft bookshelf in the guest room that I've filled with a selection of books that a guest might like to browse through. I have a 6 x 3ft bookshelf that contains my history references and my writing books — they were the first books I unpacked. I have several low and wide bookshelves for my larger coffee-table sized books and sundry other items (Scabble, anyone?), and a tall empty bookshelf sitting in the hall that I might paint and keep. Even so, I have too many books.
A while back, when we were answering an AAW on rereading books, Wench Nicola asked "I wonder when I look at my bookshelves: Why do I keep books I have no intention of re-reading…?" And that got me thinking. Because I have this battle with myself every single time I unpack a box of books and look at the contents and try to decide whether to keep each book or cull it. It's ridiculously difficult.
There are books I haven't touched in years, and can't imagine ever rereading. They're good books, worthy books. I'm sure if I pass them on to charity shop or a second-hand bookshop — or even to the little street library down the street in a neighbor's front yard — there will be people who will want them. And yet I hesitate. Why?
Books are part of my history