on the shelf
bookshelves, books and what's left unread
When B first moved into his apartment we had to find a place to fit all his books. We first got a classic IKEA Billy bookcase which sits close to the living room door and out of the way. After a few months, it began to warp and wean, the shelves morphing into a bend under the weight of all of it. No longer neatly organised, books are now shoved, stacked and piled to fit wherever there was a gap.
In a month's time, I’ll be moving in with him and with it, my suitcase of unread books will follow. I have always kept books but, for the longest time, I never had a system. They have sat on my shelves and coffee tables and bedside the bed, in living room cupboards, and in under stairs storage. Only recently I’ve picked up the habit of organising by the colour of the spine. B organisation system is far more rogue and chaotic: if there’s space on the shelf, then that’s where the book goes.
The hallway in the apartment is wide enough to fit a long bookcase, which is where we’ve planned for our next set of books to sit. We’ve lined the floor with green tape, like a dead body crime scene, to outline where the bookcase will go. I’ve practised walking around to see if I could get used to having a large object obstruct my walking path (I’m prone to crashing into things). I’ve harboured intentions of having books neatly organised in the open case, while trinkets, photographs and worthless treasures are dotted across the top in an aesthetically pleasing fashion. On the wall, we’d hang the best photos taken from our travels together.
We both love to read. My preferred genre leans heavily on fiction and the occasional dabble in a memoir, while B solely reads history and economics. The only fiction that he owns are Lord of the Rings and Greek mythology and plays. Whenever we go out he always asks me if I’m bringing a book and in most instances where he’s carrying our shared backpack, two books are shoved in amongst other necessary items: hand sanitiser, a bottle of water, and tissues.
When we plan weekends we almost always try to include reading time; both of us nestled into our dilapidated grey sofa, the light outside dipping beyond the horizon as we’re engrossed in what we read.
In our dream home, we have both agreed that a floor-to-ceiling in-the-wall style bookshelf is needed. Something to display all the books we read and that also acts as decoration. I like the idea of how cosy it would feel - books from different points in our life all sitting together on one large shelf. In the corner, I’d imagine there is a large armchair for me to curl up in, and a rocking chair for B - he insists that this is his ideal reading chair.
Perhaps other couples decorate together or spend Saturday afternoons cooking indulgent feasts or curled up watching the latest blockbuster on HBO or Apple TV. But this is what we do instead. In Lymington, there are a handful of quality charity shops that we visit, more often than not, we’re leaving with two or three books tucked under our arms. I’ve found cookbooks and memoirs and travel diaries and mystery novels, all at a fraction of the cost and in almost mint condition. You never know what you’re going to find, which is sort of the adventure in the search.
I don’t like to hoard, but books sit outside of this rule. Books not only hold stories, but also are pin points of moments in our lives. I read My Dark Vanessa in the summer of 2020 during lockdown followed by The Bell Jar, which although a classic, I found to be a total bore. Dear God, it’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume and Girl, 15, Charming but Insane by Sue Limb are two of my favourite pre-teen novels, both of which, nearly 14 years later, I still have on my shelf with yellowing dog-eared pages, worn from repeated mishandling.
Books are the one thing that I’m happy to spend money on, even if there is a growing pile at home. Over time they may be shuffled from shelf to shelf as the collection grows, some donated, others demoted to bottom level shelves, but eventually a space will open up for something new to take its place.
This was a lovely, cosy read I can relate to! I hope setting up your books in your new space is everything you hope for!
For seven years I owned a 1780 colonial home in Connecticut that had a mahogany paneled library. We moved with regret as the road in front of the house got too much traffic at too high a speed for our young family, but I have never forgotten that beautiful room where I could put my beloved books.