Bookish indulgence

Sorry for the silence, dear readers! We've had an extraordinarily busy week. Among much else, I took a trip to the city for what is now an annual shopping trip at the big box stores. I used to go two or three times a year, but since I got laid off from my online job last February, it's turned into an annual trip (I haven't been to the city since last October). Glad it's done!

At any rate, Older Daughter pulled me away from our autumn chores with the promise of a bookish indulgence, namely a nearby town's annual library sale. Groan, how could I resist?

We got there even before the doors opened up. It's always fun to go to these events because every homeschooling family for miles around shepherds their kids inside and they all get to indulge in books to their hearts' content, which is always charming. I saw one toddler in a stroller, avidly perusing a classic kid's book. It would have made a darling photo.

As I emerged from the building, I saw this trio of siblings waiting for their mother to fetch the car, and who couldn't help but dig into some of the treasures they found.

Our (meaning, Older Daughter's and mine) haul was modest this year. The pile below is my choices. I felt guilty going to a library sale when we're on a budget, but you know how much this collection of books cost me?

$4.75. Yes, less than $5. In fact, I just handed over a $5 bill to the nice volunteers running the sale. It's for a good cause, after all.

So no, I don't feel too guilty. At all. The books were a lot of bang for five bucks. Bookish indulgences are always fun.

Update: A reader asked what books I bought. Here's the list:

• National Audubon Society Pocket Guide to Familiar Mushrooms
• How to Prune Fruit Trees by R. Sanford Martin
• 1,000 Difficult Bible Questions Answered by George H. Sandison & Staff
• Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger
• The Cinderella Pact by Sarah Strohmeyer
• 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper
• Recipes for a Small Planet by Ellen Buchman Ewald
• How to Stay Alive in the Woods by Bradford Angier
• First Impressions by Nora Roberts
• Ancestral Passions by Virginia Morell
• Into the Wilderness: An Artist's Journey by Stephen Lyman

A book house

A friend sent me an article for a house for sale in Ohio. Designed as a two-unit short-term rental, it is notable for ... its books.

Yes, the seller amassed 7,000 hardcover volumes which presumably accompany the sale of the house.

Since the article mentions the seller purchased the books for about ten cents apiece, it's an easy conclusion that he got them from some sort of wholesale "books by the yard" source and hasn't actually read any of them.

Still, after seeing endless real estate listings or interior design photos touting sleek modern furnishings dominated by big-screen TVs, I must admit this listing is a refreshing alternative.

Book hoarders? Oh please.

An article caught my eye the other day: "Ten Famous Book Hoarders." I mean, how could I resist an article like that?

But something mentioned in the article's intro was disturbing to a bibliophile like me: By some claims, owning as few as 1,000 books tips you over into the category of hoarder.

Further reading, of course, calmed me down. By the examples of book hoarders listed, I am firmly in the category of amateur when it comes to quantity. (I took a hasty count, by the way; currently we stand at about 1,750 volumes, not counting three hefty totes of children's books stored in the barn. I should point out this is considerably fewer than the 5,000+ volumes we used to own.)

Of the book hoarders listed in the article, Karl Lagerfeld tops the list at 300,000 books. Yowza. That's a lot.

Significantly fewer is George Lucas with a comparatively modest 27,000 volumes. Then comes Jay Walker (20,000), Michael Jackson (10,000), Ernest Hemingway (9,000+), William Randolph Hearst (7,000), Thomas Jefferson (6,487), Nigella Lawson (6,000), Harry Houdini (5,000+), and finally Hannah Arendt (4,000). These last few examples strike me as decidedly in amateur territory as far as "hoarding" goes.

Quite how this list of "hoarders" was assembled, with the possible exception of Karl Langerfeld, is anyone's guess, because by no stretch of the imagine are 4,000 volumes a "hoard." Literal book hoarders – the kind featured on reality TV shows – often have hundreds of thousands of volumes, far more than the collections of the people mentioned.

I have books on book collectors (because of course I do) listing historical figures who assembled considerably more volumes than most people on this list. Some wealthy eccentrics in centuries past filled entire mansions floor to ceiling with books (and this at a time when such volumes were comparatively more expensive and difficult to acquire), then boarded up the building and went on to fill another building, then another, then another. That is true book hoarding.

Therefore I would argue that – with the possible exception of Lagerfeld's 300,000 volumes – the rest of the people on the list are book collectors, not hoarders.

That's why I would call myself a collector, not a hoarder. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The affliction of "tsundoku"

The English language has borrowed staggering numbers of terms from other languages and incorporated them into everyday usage. Modern English is heavily derived from both Germanic and Latin roots, but we've borrowed words from such far-flung places as Icelandic ("saga"), Indonesian ("guru"), and Polynesian ("taboo"), among much else.

Despite this linguistic flexibility, there are endless extraordinarily specific terms used in other languages that have no English equivalent. According to this article, "Have you ever felt a little mbuki-mvuki – the irresistible urge to 'shuck off your clothes as you dance'? Perhaps a little kilig – the jittery fluttering feeling as you talk to someone you fancy? How about uitwaaien – which encapsulates the revitalizing effects of taking a walk in the wind? These words – taken from Bantu, Tagalog, and Dutch – have no direct English equivalent, but they represent very precise emotional experiences that are neglected in our language."

This is what came to mind when I read about the Japanese term tsundoku, and you're gonna love it. Yes, the Japanese have coined a term to identify "the art of buying books and never reading them."

I'm sure every bibliophile suffers from this to some degree. Specifically the term "describes the intention to read books and their eventual, accidental collection."

My standard requested Christmas gift each year is a gift card to an online used-book seller, so whenever I see a book I'm interested in reading, I can order it without angsting over the price. (The penalty for living extremely rural is a library system that is almost guaranteed (a) to not have the book you want in the system, and (b) be unable to find it in inter-library loan.) However this usually means if I'm interested enough in a book to order it online, I'll follow through and read it.

The same can't be said (ahem) when it comes to things like library sales or other in-person second-hand resources. I mean, c'mon ... who's going to deny themselves the pleasure of purchasing an armful of books for pennies on the dollar? Under such conditions, I'll admit that sometimes we get carried away and purchase books with the good intention of reading them, and which then pile up. So yeah, tsundoku.

Fortunately, apparently the term does not have any connotations of criticism in Japan, nor does it carry any overtones of stigma. (Yet another example of things the Japanese do right.)

In my current situation, visiting my parents in Southern California, I am so tempted to visit an excellent used bookstore Older Daughter and I discovered a couple years ago. But I've resisted. Not only would it be impossible to schlep twenty extra pounds of books with me on an airplane, but our new dedication to extra super-dooper frugal living hasn't waned just because I'm traveling. (Knowing I would be visiting my parents, we put aside a travel budget before I got laid off.)

In fact, frugal living simply gives me an opportunity to start going through our selection of unread books and dip into them. Maybe I can reverse our tsundoku.

So is it just me, or do others suffer from this affliction?

More book-themed stuff

I collect links and photos of book-themed stuff as I come across them. (My last collection can be seen here.) In no particular order, enjoy my latest collection of book-themed stuff.

Outdoor books?

This made me chuckle.

Reading is healthy. In an article entitled "Get Reading: This Is How Books Can Impact Your Mental Health," the author writes: "New research suggests that reading could be hugely beneficial for our mental health, with classic books written by authors such as William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens being proven to help relieve depression and chronic pain. In a 2020 study published by Oxford University Press, 'challenging language' was found to send 'rocket boosters' to our mind that can help boost our mental health."

When I'm inclined to despair over the lack of shelf space for our books, here's a comforting article on "10 Famous Book Hoarders" which makes me understand that our (well, my) problem is trivial by comparison.

Bonus photo of a relevant book bag:

Or how about this piece on "The Joys of Used Bookstores"?

In an example of creativity, the home of actress/singer Ashley Tisdale (I had to look up who she was) was going to be featured in the magazine Architectural Digest. Distressed that her bookshelves were empty, she sent her husband to the store to buy 400 random volumes prior to the house tour to make the shelves look respectable (and then admitted it).

Comics for booklovers and writers:

Cool home library:

Uh-huh. Per the Eagles, "She is headed for the cheatin' side of town."

This library courtyard has books for bench legs, titled as famous novels. Nice.

In a bookstore called Sandman Books in Punta Gorda, Florida, the owners built a book arch from upcycled books.

I envy artistic types.

Speaking of artistic types, here's someone who created a miniature library inside a can.

Here's an article offering advice on "How to nurture a personal library," noting that "What distinguishes a library from a random pile of books is the considered process of curation."

Historical marvels. The caption reads: "A 18th century book containing tiny books on a pop-up shelf, made by a bookbinder in the Netherlands around 1757." Incredible craftsmanship.

Or this. The caption read: "300-year-old library tool that enabled a researcher to have seven books open at once." Someone's comment: "This is the early version of keeping all the tabs open at once on your browser."

An old bookmobile.

Here's a Twitter thread about a labyrinthine bookstore in Saratoga Springs, New York called Lyrical Ballad. Wish I could visit it.

Here's a neat story: "The Oldest Treasures From 12 Great Libraries." Entries include the oldest surviving cookbook in the West (A.D. 830), a compendium of medical knowledge dating to about A.D. 1244, and the oldest surviving version of the complete New Testament (A.D. 330-60).

This is an interesting article: "The Struggle to Unearth the World’s First Author." The urge to express one's self via the written word goes back farther than we think.

Books in a bathroom. While I love the look, I can't help but feel this isn't good for the books.

Cool bookstore on wheels.

Here's samples of an artist's work who uses books as a carving medium.

Hard to argue this point.

Book cart in the Appalachian Mountains (1940s?).

It takes a couple minutes for the brain to understand what the eye is seeing. Cool photo.

This appears to be the aftermath of a flood at the Alta Acqua Bookshop in Venice, Italy, in 2016.

As both a book lover and an introvert, I approve of this meme.

Poster? Christmas card? Whatever, it's cute.

Yup.

Also yup.

A tiny bookshop.

Apparently this bus-stop library is not real, but a draft of an idea.

A walking library, 1939.

The Zhongshuge Bookstore in Dijiangyan, China

Here are some interior design tips for "What to Do if Your House is Overflowing with Books." Personally I thought most of the advice was "meh," but then again I refuse to admit I have a book problem.

Along similar veins, here's an article entitled "On the Difficulty of Getting Rid of Books." Ahem. 

Apparently in 2003, approximately 2.5 million unsold books from the UK romance book publisher Mills & Boon were used in the reconstruction of an M6 motorway in the UK.

Here's an article on "Why Used Books Make the Best Travel Souvenirs."

Here's a New York Public Library bookmobile from 1950.

Someone's lucky thrift-store find.

Cool lamp.

Unique shelving:

A little book humor.

I have no idea where this is or what the context is. I just thought it was a neat photo.

Unique set-up. I'm trying to figure out whether this is AI-generated.

A charming house pic.

The caption for this photo said: "The librarian at Lorain, Ohio Public Library is looking at the 50,000 book chaos after one shelf fell over and the rest fell like dominoes. 1971. (Cleanup on aisle, um, every aisle!)

Different terms for book lovers around the world. (Ink drinker! Chapter maggot!)

According to the caption, this is the "Christmas book tree sponsored by Hatchards books at St. Pancras Station" (presumably London). Additionally, "The little booths at the bottom have speakers that read you a story while you wait for your train."

Another Christmas book tree.

Nice book nook.

Here's a puzzle: "Can you spot the 50 famous books hidden in this image?" (Click to enlarge.)

And the answers:

These are "pack horse librarians" who serviced the Appalachian communities in the mid 1930s to early 1940s. They were mostly women who rode on horses or mules to deliver library books to remote communities during the Great Depression.

Apparently a family bought a house built in 1912 and discovered it had hundreds of old books in the attic. Can you imagine....?

Apparently this was posted in someone's Little Free Library.

Here's an interesting article: "'Bookshelf wealth' isn't new. So why is it taking off?"

And here's where some people get their "bookshelf wealth": A company called "Books by the Foot" (which, seriously, sounds like a fascinating place to work).

A thing of beauty:

As is this:

Here's a nifty collection of book-edge art – art painted on the edges of books.

I like the wrap-around bookshelves of this house (the Walstrom residence by John Lautner, built in 1969).

Clever corner arrangement.

Nice article: "Inside the World's Most Beloved Independent Bookstores."

A nice story: "Bookstore Was Making $12 Before Owner Asked The Internet For Help, Was Revived For A New Life."

And an interesting story: "The Book That Sank on the Titanic and Burned in the Blitz."

Lucky find! The caption read, "Found this really cool giant book coffee table on Facebook Marketplace. The 'spines' open as drawers. Each book is actually leather bound." (Excuse me while I drool.)

Neat thrift-store item someone found: Murder mystery writer's desk teapot.

Another thrift-store find:

Bookstalls at Hay Castle in Hay-on-Wye, Wales

Don't be like Lauren.  

Here's a conservatory being used as a library.

The caption for this photo read: "My husband agreed to the fixer-upper I wanted if I let him build a library. Three years later and it's finally done!" (And a beautiful job, too.)

Nice.

Apparently this is a retired teacher who now drives a portable library to encourage reading.

Another patio arrangement.

No idea where this is, but it's pretty.

Older Daughter subscribes to a program that generates AI images. I asked her to have it generate images of dusty old bookstores. Here are four of them:

This is one of a collection of 12 giant books made in 1715 by a priest in New Spain. Someone's snarky comment: "I'm guessing created before the invention of reading glasses?"

Interesting article: "Yes, It's Okay to Throw Away a Book."

Unknown time and place, but such an expressive child.

Lifehacker tips: "Three Ways to Double Your Bookshelf Capacity." Meh.

Interesting article: "Yes, People Do Buy Books; Despite viral claims, Americans buy over a billion books a year."

Interesting concept, but sounds uncomfortable.

The caption reads: "Sometimes daily commuters will know they won't get wireless service for a while, and trying to get it will chrew through their battery before the work day even starts. So they all brought books to pass the time."

I love this idea.

Abomination: Faux library.

Upcycled knife block.

A boy sits reading in a bombed bookstore, London, 1940.

Ahem. This is my default Christmas gift request every year.

And finally, this. I know the feeling.

That's all, folks! I've already started a new file collection more book-themed stuff, which I'll post at some future date.