Winnowing: a witter
Jan. 13th, 2012 12:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI put books into a box. It was hard. And I may have to take half of them out again.
As you know, Bob, I have spent these several months reconciling to the notion that I was going to part with the bulk of my books. There have been two hold-outs on that general position: the SF (/F/H to be understood, thank you kindly) and the cookery books. Mostly I have been thinking of those as Collections, and worth keeping together just on general principles.
Except that when I think about it, that's a fundamentally flawed position. Who am I Collecting for - posterity? I don't think so. Posterity don't care about my feeble little assemblage; posterity has real libraries to contend with, and real collectors. A friend of mine has a book depository with 20K volumes in it.
Which being the case, if the only interested parties are those who have to live with the books here-and-now - well, then we start winnowing.
We started on the SF hardbacks. So far I have made my way along six feet of shelving, and the books more or less divide themselves into books that matter to me, books by friends, books I think are important, and books I've picked up more or less randomly because, y'know, SF. With subcategories and cross-contamination, obviously.
The books that matter? I'm keeping those, taking them with me. Those are the easy ones.
Next easiest are the random SF, because mostly I can shed those. Except - oh, wait, here's one with a blurb by Manda Scott, whose work I adore beyond measure; if she liked it, then maybe I ought...
Like that. Shed and dither and still try to shed.
Important books? Mostly books I haven't read (yet), but picked up because they're clearly part of the ongoing conversation that is SF, and when I am a withered husk in a nursing-home with nothing to do but read... Yeah. That. Storing up treasure in heaven. But, y'know. A withered husk in a nursing-home has no space for a collection; that's what e-readers are for. Do I really need Philip Jose Farmer? I dunno. He went into the box, but he may have to come out again.
Books by friends. The people matter to me; some of the books do, or used to. Does that mean I should keep 'em all, even if I'm probably never going to read them again? Dunno. Shedding books is not the same as shedding friends, but it kind of feels like that. And if they're signed to me, does that mean I'm obliged to keep them...?
And so on. Six feet of shelving, and the preliminary winnow filled one box with keepers. Ahem. I have six hundred feet of shelving, and no: I'm not taking a hundred boxes of books with me. I guess I must winnow again. And, doubtless, glean.
As you know, Bob, I have spent these several months reconciling to the notion that I was going to part with the bulk of my books. There have been two hold-outs on that general position: the SF (/F/H to be understood, thank you kindly) and the cookery books. Mostly I have been thinking of those as Collections, and worth keeping together just on general principles.
Except that when I think about it, that's a fundamentally flawed position. Who am I Collecting for - posterity? I don't think so. Posterity don't care about my feeble little assemblage; posterity has real libraries to contend with, and real collectors. A friend of mine has a book depository with 20K volumes in it.
Which being the case, if the only interested parties are those who have to live with the books here-and-now - well, then we start winnowing.
We started on the SF hardbacks. So far I have made my way along six feet of shelving, and the books more or less divide themselves into books that matter to me, books by friends, books I think are important, and books I've picked up more or less randomly because, y'know, SF. With subcategories and cross-contamination, obviously.
The books that matter? I'm keeping those, taking them with me. Those are the easy ones.
Next easiest are the random SF, because mostly I can shed those. Except - oh, wait, here's one with a blurb by Manda Scott, whose work I adore beyond measure; if she liked it, then maybe I ought...
Like that. Shed and dither and still try to shed.
Important books? Mostly books I haven't read (yet), but picked up because they're clearly part of the ongoing conversation that is SF, and when I am a withered husk in a nursing-home with nothing to do but read... Yeah. That. Storing up treasure in heaven. But, y'know. A withered husk in a nursing-home has no space for a collection; that's what e-readers are for. Do I really need Philip Jose Farmer? I dunno. He went into the box, but he may have to come out again.
Books by friends. The people matter to me; some of the books do, or used to. Does that mean I should keep 'em all, even if I'm probably never going to read them again? Dunno. Shedding books is not the same as shedding friends, but it kind of feels like that. And if they're signed to me, does that mean I'm obliged to keep them...?
And so on. Six feet of shelving, and the preliminary winnow filled one box with keepers. Ahem. I have six hundred feet of shelving, and no: I'm not taking a hundred boxes of books with me. I guess I must winnow again. And, doubtless, glean.