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A mountain of paper, a sea of ink

Posted on June 15th, 2007 by ephemere.
Categories: ink & paper.

(cross-posted from the Read Or Die Weblog)

Two hours or so ago, while trying to draw, I somehow came up with the idea of reading some books for inspiration. I remembered that I hadn’t read my copy of C.S. Lewis’s Narrative Verse yet, so I thought that I would just grab the book, read a few pages, and return to my drawing with renewed energy.

Then again, I hadn’t considered the state of my bookshelves.

I think it’s a common problem for readers: you buy and buy and read and read until you run out of shelves — and then any space not occupied by a household appliance, piece of furniture, or person is commandeered by crazy book piles. In my case, I have three bookshelves, and most of the shelves have double rows of books. Trying to get one of the “hidden” books often results in the whole front row crashing down on the unfortunate person. My room often resembles a disaster area, except instead of rubble I have books and the occasional stray page.

Once I tried to organize my books. It took me the better part of a day, but the sense of satisfaction lasted for weeks. The ordered arrangement didn’t.

So as I looked for my book I navigated shelves of physics textbooks jostling against high fantasy and apologetics, Christian devotionals rubbing shoulders with science fiction anthologies, books about cats and drug addiction and Japanese history; tragedies and comic book anthologies and cookbooks and computer magazines; and, just to confuse me, my old notebooks (empty of coherent notes) and sketchpads (which contain more equations than drawings). I dived into piles upon piles of hardcovers and paperbacks. Then I moved on to the books stacked on the floor, inside my cabinets, and in the space under my desk and computer table.

One and a half hours later I found Narrative Verse in my brother’s room, where it lay under two Calvin and Hobbes collections, the illustrated Stardust, vol.1 of the School Rumble manga, A Game of Thrones, Ateneo’s standard Theology textbook, Mathematical Physics, and Asterix at the Olympic Games. And a bedroll. I don’t know when my brother started lumping sleeping gear and books together, but I guess he’s just trying to make the most out of the available space. I’m just glad he isn’t piling his shoes on top of my books. Messy bookshelves are one thing, muddy covers are another.

Sometimes I feel that I should take better care of my books; should make sure, at least, that I know where things are instead of having vague combinations of Title-Author-Location floating around in my head. A lot of bibliophiles may think that I don’t treat books with respect and should stick to maltreating photocopied versions. But I do try. I certainly love my books and hunt the missing ones down with persistence, if not efficiency. I just can’t guarantee they’ll be the kind of copies secondhand bookstores will want to buy.

I don’t let books stay on their shelves too long. I believe in re-reading good books, in taking them around with you and sneaking a few pages in between classes or while standing in line, in slipping them into backpacks and handbags so you can share them with friends you happen to meet, in going to sleep with your head pillowed on Arfken and then waking up because the Belgariad is giving you backache. We have our own ways of loving for books. Mine is to live with them.

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