For most of my life, I have accumulated books. Gifts, garage sale finds, thrift store discoveries, college textbooks, and bookstore impulse buys have turned into a mountain of novels and nonfiction books. By weight, books probably make up the vast majority of my belongings, as anyone who’s ever helped me move can attest. I’ve been lucky enough to have space to store my vast collection in spare rooms and home offices—but those days are quickly coming to an end.
In a few short months, a second child will be joining our family. That’s causing some shakeups around our relatively small house. Our home office, currently the site of three very full bookcases, will become our toddler’s bedroom and the home office will move to a nook off the living room. The reign of books is over.
I always knew this day would come and in many ways, I’m glad to have a reason to dig through my collection and simplify. I’m no Marie Kondo, asking if a given book has sparked joy, because they all have (at least, the ones I’ve read). I have a certain number of books which must be culled and so the question is not whether or not I’ve enjoyed them but if I’m likely to enjoy them again—or if it’s time they made someone else happy.
These are hard decisions for someone who loves books. I love the way they make me feel, love the way they look on the shelf, even the smell of old binding brings me joy. Far from being a slog, it’s actually been a delight to reconnect with a few treasured paperbacks that deserve a place of honor in the new, more streamlined order and uncover dusty editions that deserve another read. I’ve rediscovered books I’d forgotten I had, but that are now firmly on my to-read list, as well as classics that I hope to share with our kids when they’re older.
And, of course, I’ve encountered many books where I know immediately that the time has come to say goodbye. Not just the overpriced textbooks from classes I didn’t particularly enjoy, but books I adored, ones that belong to a past era of my life. These are books that had their time, some that had a profound impact on me, but which I simply don’t need anymore. They need to go on to someone else.
At the end of the day, a book isn’t meant for decoration or to proclaim how intelligent we are. Books are meant to be read. So, as I sort heavy stacks of hardbacks on my office floor, I take heart in knowing that the books I’m selling or donating are getting a second life—they’re getting a chance to be read and loved again.
Books have been core to my identity since I learned how to read. But this process of weighing which books I need and which I can let go of has been freeing, and not only in terms of the sheer mass of paper. I don’t need to keep books that I feel like I’m supposed to read, but which I will probably never get to. I don’t have to feel guilty about my taste in books or my ability to finish one I’m just not that into. And just because I like a book doesn’t mean I need to keep it forever. Some books are good to hold on to and others should go back into circulation. I’ll still have plenty of books when it’s over and our daughter will have a room to call her own.
I will always identify as a book person. When I’m not in the middle of reading something, I’m eagerly anticipating the next novel I want to dive into. My TBR list is currently 14 books long and I have dozens more marked as “want to read” on Goodreads. That doesn’t have to change. But there is a time in life to gather books and a time to let them go. I think I’m finally ready to turn that page.
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Jonny Eberle is a writer, podcaster, and storyteller. He lives in Tacoma, WA with his family, a dog, and three adorable typewriters. His writing has been published in Creative Colloquy, Grit City Magazine, and All Worlds Wayfarer. You can listen to his audio drama, The Adventures of Captain Radio, and his writing podcast, Dispatches with Jonny Eberle, wherever you enjoy podcasts.
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