This is how distracted I have been. It's July. Almost mid-July and not only have I not even thought about my new prompt, am still working on last month's prompt, but had to go and look and see what this month's prompt is even meant to be. "In Sickness and in Health". That is almost funny as apparently I am in maybe a little sickness? Too much heat? Too much sun? Too much anxiety is more like it. This year's reading (like everything else in life these days) is sort of thrown out the window.
How to even interpret (book/story-wise) in sickness or in health? Actually, now that I think about it, I am reading Otessa Moshfegh's My Year of Rest and Relaxation (and my friends, there is not really the kind of rest or relaxation going on in that story I would happily consider) fits the bill as the narrator is not in a happy state of mind--so little that she wants to sleep her life away. Problem identified and problem solved. Whew.
Now to what has been on my mind lately. Since December I have been working on cleaning out my parent's house. My mother passed away in December unexpectedly. The house she leaves behind is my childhood home and it was filled to the brim with lives lived and still in progress. Slowly (and with some difficulty--especially now in the middle of a pandemic) it is being emptied. Anyone who has gone through this knows how painful and difficult it is to go through other people's belongings. It's almost like erasing a life. As someone who has put a fair share of years behind me (and with my own house full of things), it has made me realize how much baggage you accumulate over time. All those nooks and crannies fill up so easily.
I consider myself fortunate indeed to be able to collect books and have so many, literally my own library, at my fingertips. But they seem to expand and fill a space. Like weeds I have piles of books that have popped up all over the place. Since I have also been fortunate to be able to work from home (though now I split my work time between a laptop at home and my desk at the library) I have really noticed those ever expanding piles of books. So very many books. And here is me reading more slowly than I have in years. Those unread books begin to weigh on me. I have more books on hand that I will ever get to read and the feeling begins to be overwhelming.
I have weeded books in the past, but now I am embarking on a very serious weeding project. This is the start of my first foray into my shelves. So many I have owned for so long and many of them have been read and loved, but I wonder will I ever get around to reading them again. I think of them as friends almost, but maybe it is time to send some (many, I hope) out into the world and make another reader happy to know and experience them. It is somewhat agonizing to do this, but at the same time once I start I find that a second or third sweep of a shelf or pile makes it easier to pull another few books. Interests and passions I had at one time have faded and others take their places. Why am I keeping books that I am not likely to reach for anytime soon? Even with this first weeding I think I will still end up with more books than I really "need".
Do you actively weed your book collection? Do you borrow rather than buy (and then not have this problem?)? Do you recycle them after you read them? Or do you keep them (as I have tended to do) and feel you cannot part with them? They are not all going away, of course. Someday, though, I hope to downsize my life and move into a smaller home with few maintenance issues. This means I need to pare my belongings down to maybe half of what I own (less is more these days, I think), and maybe even half of that half. Hopefully when I have cleared away so many piles and stacks it will be more freeing and the sheer number of unread books will not be overwhelming but a pleasure to enjoy reading.