Finding My Shelves
I have accumulated a lot of books in the roughly 30 years of my life as a full-time working adult. So much so that I don't actually remember what was the first book I acquired for my library (childhood trauma remembrance: when I was away at college, my folks had moved from where I'd grown up and had surreptitiously tossed all of my books I'd had in my little library back then -- so, the ghosts of those books remain with me. I can still see those old paperbacks and hardcovers that comprised my pre-adult library. The loss of those books was painful).
Anyway, rebuilding my library from adulthood onward, I can't recall the first book, but now, 30 years later, I have a library of what I estimate to be over 1700 books (calculated across a dozen bookshelves, and a dire need for one or two more shelves). I can't help it. I love books.
I dread the day when I have to move, as it'll require a Herculean effort to pack up all of those books, but one I will absolutely do. I have to.
All of this is preamble for where I'm going with this post, but the empty calories of social media continue to get to me. I won't describe the ways in which it bothers me, but the plight of the various channels and the fleeting attention spans it fosters aren't good things.
The state of the world is also particularly painful -- I fear we're on a runaway train toward our own extinction at this point, and that maybe we've passed that dreaded Great Filter that determines our fate. Nice happy thoughts, right?
Moreover, as a 50-something, I confront my own twilight in ways that I've been aware of since my youth (I remember joking about my "Quarter-Life Crisis" in my 20s; at 53, it's worth more of a weary shrug than a chuckle from yesteryear).
I'm willfully wading into my library, the portentous "turning inward" people deride. I'm not turning my back on the outside world (I can't; I'm too aware of it to look away entirely). But I'm taking refuge in my books. I'm going to read and review all of them, and, in that way, attain a measure of peace that I'm unable to acquire living in this world.
My immediate backlog is roughly around 100 books at this point, so that'll serve as my starting point. I'll work through that pile, and, having done that, I'll work through the rest, shelf by shelf, and try to restore my spirit.
Anyway, rebuilding my library from adulthood onward, I can't recall the first book, but now, 30 years later, I have a library of what I estimate to be over 1700 books (calculated across a dozen bookshelves, and a dire need for one or two more shelves). I can't help it. I love books.
I dread the day when I have to move, as it'll require a Herculean effort to pack up all of those books, but one I will absolutely do. I have to.
All of this is preamble for where I'm going with this post, but the empty calories of social media continue to get to me. I won't describe the ways in which it bothers me, but the plight of the various channels and the fleeting attention spans it fosters aren't good things.
The state of the world is also particularly painful -- I fear we're on a runaway train toward our own extinction at this point, and that maybe we've passed that dreaded Great Filter that determines our fate. Nice happy thoughts, right?
Moreover, as a 50-something, I confront my own twilight in ways that I've been aware of since my youth (I remember joking about my "Quarter-Life Crisis" in my 20s; at 53, it's worth more of a weary shrug than a chuckle from yesteryear).
I'm willfully wading into my library, the portentous "turning inward" people deride. I'm not turning my back on the outside world (I can't; I'm too aware of it to look away entirely). But I'm taking refuge in my books. I'm going to read and review all of them, and, in that way, attain a measure of peace that I'm unable to acquire living in this world.
My immediate backlog is roughly around 100 books at this point, so that'll serve as my starting point. I'll work through that pile, and, having done that, I'll work through the rest, shelf by shelf, and try to restore my spirit.
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