Too many books on the library Card: a compulsive borrower confesses his book hoarding sins and gets others to do the same
Editor’s Note: Originally published Dec. 10, 2018 in NUVO
This is something of a confession.
Lately I’ve fallen into something of a habit. Immediately after jogging on the Monon Trail, still in my sweatpants, I stop by Carmel Clay Public Library — close to where I live—and browse the selection of DVDs, CDs and books.
Usually, if I check out a DVD or a CD, there’s a reasonable chance I’ll see or listen to it. With the books, let’s just say, chances are pretty poor that I’ll get to read the first page.
I love libraries—just about my favorite place to hang out on this planet is the Central Library atrium downtown—but Carmel Clay Public Library is pretty great too. I love wandering the stacks to see what’s new and also chatting with the librarians there.
I also love reading. But like most everyone else these days I get distracted by my social media feed not only reading the latest in the New York Times but also watching, say, the latest cat videos. And then my job as NUVO arts editor keeps me pretty busy too.
But lately thing have come to a head. After placing all 25 books in a great big stack, I realized that I’m kinda like the Joe the Plumber of books.
Joe the Plumber, aka Joe Wurzelbacher, is the man who in 2008 infamously questioned then presidential candidate Barack Obama about the tax policy he was promoting on the basis of how it might hurt him in several years time…when he aspired to be making $250,000 or more per year. Aspired is the operative word here.
Let’s just say, that when I’m checking out books, many of my selections are aspirational. The only book I managed to read from cover to cover in my current stack is novelist Teju Cole’s Every Day is for the Thief, which is about an unnamed narrator’s visit to his home-country, which just so happens to be Nigeria where Cole grew up.
I wanted to interview Cole before his reading at Butler in November, and I also wanted to go to the reading, but neither worked out. However, I enjoyed the book, the upshot of which is that a country can still have a hold on you even if many of its problems seem insurmountable.
I’ve also read the first chapter of Woodward’s Fear, a book that is a real-time detail about Trump’s time so far in office, treating the U.S. like one of the many casinos he shepherded into bankruptcy. Reading Woodward’s books for me is kinda like picking at a scab. You know what you’re going to find there, the fountain of pus might confirm your worst fears, but I just can’t help it.
I’ve made a foray into The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende, which has something of the whiff at least at least of my favorite novel of all time, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. I also checked out the Allende book in Spanish, which I really have no hope of reading at my elementary level in that language.
I’ve also picked up Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, an edited version—I have a thing for Roman history—and also A.R. Ammons’ book-long poem Garbage, which is on my list of poems to read before I die, but every time I open it up I get distracted or fall asleep.
I won’t even get into all the books I have on my shelves at home, many of them advance readers’ copies, a consequence of having worked at Borders’ Books and Music, and many others in foreign languages.
My most-long-standing reading project is Norman Mailer’s Harlot’s Ghost, his novel about the CIA weighing in at 1282 pages. I purchased the heavily discounted hardback first edition in 1994 and I’ve been reading the book since May, 2017. It currently sits on the stand near my downstairs toilet (I’m on page 986).
I wondered if there might be others out there with the same habits so, instead of inviting an intervention for my book hoarding I posted the following on my Facebook page. (After posting this, feeling a little embarrassed, I promptly returned half of the books in my stack.)
So I wrote this little ditty:
Is this a bad habit, wandering the library shelves
checking out more than I can ever read?
Is there anybody else out there
who is also guilty of such a deed?
Do let me know
I'm writing a blog for NUVO.
My sister Rebecca Kim, who is married with three kids, and lives in Dallas, TX., responded:
We are known to take huge bags to the library and fill them like its trick-or-treating. Guilty pleasure, I guess. Or pretend hoarding.
Laura Rose Houlette, also a mother, weighs in:
I'm guilty of doing it and of passing the habit on to the next generation.😁
Indy-based artist Phil O'Malley wrote:
One hundred and sixty-seven times (3 weeks renewal) was the most I have renewed my borrowing time for a particular supply of art books. That particular batch I just couldn't give up. I became a bit resentful when other patrons would make a request for one to be returned. Finally, the library refused anymore renewals. I had considered claiming that I lost them, but the replacement costs convinced me to let them all go back.
When it's time to check out there is always room for one more book in my arms.
Herron School of Art & Design professor Anita Giddings can’t seem to part with certain library books either:
Keeping a book for 1 1/2 years (it's on my bookcase headboard right now)
Fellow librarian and former Borders employee Aggie Adkins noted the following:
It is always best in books, to have more, not less. Plus supporting your library is fabulous. Checking out stuff is like currency-and no one ever knows if you read/watched it or not. It’s about options!
Another fellow former Borders employee says:
I visit my library at least twice a week. I currently have 18 books checked out, 4 online for kindle and 2 on hold. I never get through them all and I am constantly renewing. If i renew more than twice, I order it for my bookshelf. I miss my Borders😁
Jason Messman, (another) former Borders employee and current librarian at Carmel Clay public library gets the last word in this blog:
What was most impressive was how you balanced them all on your head as you walked out...well done!
