Behind the Ironic Column

There are still a few boxes/stacks of books scattered around the apartment, left over from that clearing and sorting binge I went through last winter when I was clearing out the storage room. The reason I’m noticing them now, of course, is that I’m trying to make my living area moderately presentable – which may only mean getting the stacks of books neatly lined up against the walls instead of teetering in different spaces around the room. The reason they’re in these stacks is that they’re in different stages of transition.

There are the ones I’ve firmly decided to give up, but don’t yet know the lucky recipient. Then there are ones that I’m of two minds about – perhaps I should keep them, but if I do, where shall I put them. Then there are the ones that I’m passing on as soon as I’ve read them – no need to find shelf space for them because they’re not staying. Which means some have been sitting in the floor for a number of months now. Waiting for me to either have time or be in the mood to read that particular style of book. Or sometimes that weight of book – if I need one to carry around I’m not taking one that’s several inches thick and weighs a lot. On the other hand I’m not a big fan of publicly reading things with lurid covers – I like to keep those things at home. I know that comes from growing up in a small community where too many people felt entitled to notice and comment on anything one might be doing. It saved trouble all round if I didn’t carry out books that would cause a fuss. Rather like keeping “The Lord of the Flies” hidden behind my history book while reading it in class.  So anyway, those are waiting.

And then there’s another whole batch of things that I couldn’t come to any  preliminary decision on, so they’re in a box together. That’s where the entertaining juxtapositions come in. I usually keep my books arranged by some definite system, even if it is one known only to me. I’m a former librarian and some of those tendencies just don’t go away. But I’ve made little to no effort to categorize the stacks of waiting materials or this box of assortments. That leaves them open to happy or hilarious serendipity.

For instance, I found a copy of a pamphlet called “Seductive Sesame Oil” wedged in next to a copy of Anais Nin’s “Little Birds.” I’m really sure they were never shelved together so those two have found each other. Maybe there’s some force like gravity that draws them together. And then there’s the “Primer on Freudian Psychology “ – which I have from my psychology-major days. But right next to it is Erskine Caldwell’s “Tobacco Road.” Maybe there’s a theme here, one volume is a comment on some aspect of the other volume. That would be a system of sorts, although one hard to explain to casual browsers.

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