Why I'm Destined to Own Entirely Too Many Books

It became clear to me this week why it is just in my destiny to own way way to many books. This has nothing to do with my early reading ability, my family genetics (trust me if your mom is a librarian you are practically required to salivate over books) or anything of that nature. This story highlights the absolutely ridiculous situations I find myself in with frightening regularity (things that seem to happen to no one else).

Earlier in the year I ordered a textbook for one of my online classes, no big deal right? However, there was a screw up with shipping and I ended up with two copies of the textbook. I promptly stuck both of them on a shelf (because even if I "need" the book for class the likelihood of me actually opening it is slim to none) figuring I would deal with the book later.

This week I decided to deal with extra book and I logged onto Amazon to sell the book back. When I discovered I would be getting a 49.00$ credit on my account I was thrilled! Dreams of new books on my Kindle danced in my head as I happily packed the book up and sent it off with the handy prepaid shipping label (and wrapped neatly in a Brahm's bag). Yesterday I get an e-mail that my trade in had been denied and they were sending the book back to me.

Turns out this book has two different ISBNs (two different hardcover editions, one that is significantly cheaper than the other). Turns out I was sold the wrong book (sold the cheaper book at the higher price). At this point I was furious and spouted off a massive ranting email to Amazon (one of my many fabulous hobbies). Because Amazon is an awesome company who always tries to do the right thing they issued a credit of 49.00 to my account and then forwarded the information on to the investigators.

Great! Right? Well, kind of. See the other textbook is still jetting its way back to me and I still have two copies of the same book. When I have the courage to actually get rid of a book it just boomerangs back to me and takes up precious space on my shelf and now I'm too scarred (or lazy) to try again.

In other book news (apparently I have a lot of that) I finished Laurie Notaro's book and I expect to have my review up Monday-ish. (It's shaping up to be a busy weekend). I've selected my next book "The Badlands: More Stories from Midnight in Peking". This is a special e-book companion to the fabulous book "Midnight in Peking" by Paul French. This book was the best book I've read so far this summer and I was thrilled to drop the 3.99 on the companion book (and to be fair this book has only been floating on my Kindle for a week or so, much less time than my other books).

My challenge...should I choose to accept it

Currently I own about a thousand books, maybe more or less, with that many it is difficult to get an accurate account. One whole room in my house is devoted to housing my three bookshelves, all double rowed. Books are hidden throughout my house, in the bedroom, in the living room and a couple are even stashed in the kitchen. I never leave the house without a book stashed somewhere on my person and when I travel I bring a stash of emergency books in case the places I'm going aren't civilized to have books (they usually do and I just get a sore back from lugging around an extra 10 books). Last year I joined the digital revolution and now I can tote around 350 books on my tablet, yet I still bring books along just in case.

Books are my world and they always have been. I was an early reader (tends to happen when your mom is a librarian) and by Kindergarten I had to get a special sticker on my library card for those of us who were privileged enough to read above our level. Since then I've devoured books, somewhere on the average of 7-8 a week. For most of my life these books came from the library, but then I graduated college. After graduation I moved to a small rural town with a minuscule library and I was making my own money. It was a recipe for disaster (especially with the advent of Amazon) and slowly but surely in the two years since college my collection has grown at an alarming rate. My dear fiance (who takes a year to finish one book) happily tolerates my addiction, mostly owing to the fact that it's cheaper than other things I could be addicted to (and I tolerate his Lego obsession so we're even). However, I think he reached his breaking point in January of this year when we moved from an apartment to our first home. By the time he was ready to put his desk together and unpack all of his prized computer equipment my books had taken over the house (his stuff is still in boxes in the garage by the way).

My prized collection (This doesn't count the giant basket of books in the living room, the basket in the bedroom, the 350 or so books on my tablet etc.)

When I look at my bookshelves I'm saddened by the fact that I've only read about half the books on them. I constantly start books and don't finish them because I buy some new book that catches my fancy. As an author myself (I claim that distinction even though my computer hard drive is littered with half finished manuscripts and the only full book I've ever actually written is still is that tenuous stage of query and rejection) I know how hard these people worked to write these books and I feel guilty that I've never given them their due. I look at the books and I wonder what enticed me to buy them. Hopefully one day it will be my book on the bookstore shelves and I want to understand why people choose to buy a book (and why they leave it on their shelves for years unread).

I'm giving myself a challenge; I have to read every single book currently contained in my house from start to finish. Hopefully, through this project I'll learn more about the "why" behind my book purchases and why certain books are the most awesome things in the world while others inspire you to toss them in a wood chipper.