I’m building up a pile of books on my desk that would have rescued the levies.
It’s a lot of stuff. Some of it is stuff I’ve bought (Carlos Bulosan, Jack Kerouac, Charles de Lint), some of it is stuff I’ve borrowed (a book about science and superheroes, graphic novels, Bernard Cornwell), some lent to me (books about comics!), and some I need to actually read for school (The Chocolate War, Annie on My Mind, House of the Scorpion, The Catcher in the Rye).
I started chipping away at this accruing debt of knowledge. Why keep these books? I don’t read or reference them more often than once or twice (aside from the materials I need for work, that is). I don’t write articles for academia or write novels that incorporate every random fact sitting on my book shelves (I’m looking at you, Neil Gaiman). Why do I need these books?
It’s nothing more than a materialistic desire to own that which I do not make time to read. I think it’s one of those mummy’s curses you hear so much about.
(spooky voice) For breaking into the mummy’s tomb, you shall forever be gathering books upon your desk. oooOOOoooOOOooo… and the son shall shine but once a day per book that you read oooOOOoooOOOooo… and your library fines shall gather interest until the librarians get fed up with you and send the library enforcer to collect the debt from your fingers….oooOOOoooOOOooo….
I stopped buying books months ago. Then I cleared the fines on my library card.
The pile is only going to get bigger.