tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post6554023583753815860..comments2023-10-10T12:38:41.200+01:00Comments on Musings from a muddy island: Get lots of books for Christmas? It's time to ask THAT question again!Juliethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18055924620237477722noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post-58047552148486570322008-01-07T21:03:00.000+00:002008-01-07T21:03:00.000+00:00Thank you all so much for these thoughtful, honest...Thank you all so much for these thoughtful, honest and sometimes very moving comments. <BR/><BR/>I'm afraid this particular Musing simply won't go away. It's given rise to such a host of sub-Musings and side-Musings, that I've just cut the remainder of this comment and will use it as the basis of another post in the next few days.Juliethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18055924620237477722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post-8689714382076166392008-01-06T17:43:00.000+00:002008-01-06T17:43:00.000+00:00Juliet, thanks for your comments on my journal. To...Juliet, thanks for your comments on my journal. To be truthful I read this post and used the links to the article and found myself deep in thought about why I find it difficult to let go of books. Now, even sadder to admit, I find it difficult to let go of glossy magazines too. <BR/>Let me first say, that like 60goingon16, I studied for my degree in Art & Design in my forties whilst juggling the needs of a young family and think that it has a bearing on my need for the visual. Hence the not being able to give up the glossies. I think the (still limited) knowledge of design and photography I enjoy means I find the pages too wonderful not to want to view again and again. Mmmm...but that is not answering the question - why keep hold of books. Well, it was something I read yesterday that suddenly made it clear to me why I want to keep the books I have read. I was reading the introduction by Ayn Rand to her book The Fountainhead when she said 'My basic test for any story is: 'Would I want to meet these characters and observe these events in real life? Is this story an experience worth living through for its own sake? Is the pleasure of contemplating these characters an end in itself?' And I knew immediately that the worlds I have inhabited in the books I have read have instilled in me a pleasure of contemplating such worlds and so it is, in fact, the possession of books and their potential that is an end in itself. It is not because they have been read: I have many books on my shelves partially read or for reference or to be read. It is the potential each has to define or expand or educate me, to amuse or instruct or comfort me that I have them. I understand what Monix is saying but I think every book, for me, has its own special memory and association and as I am not prepared to burn with them I'd save none but like the phoenix my reading would rise up out of the ashes and begin anew. TeresaAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post-30354530827781754792008-01-06T13:22:00.000+00:002008-01-06T13:22:00.000+00:00We went through the agony of booksorting when we m...We went through the agony of booksorting when we moved from a huge Edwardian house in Hampshire to a small cottage in Devon. We applied the same sort of criteria you have suggested, even so we made some many mistakes, getting rid of shelves of Penguins from the 60s and 70s, dozens of books from student days among them. I have noticed that both my husband and I scour the second hand bookshops to replace those old lost loves!<BR/><BR/>I could never part with my set of Kingston Library books, published by the Thames Publishing company in the 1950s. We had all of the Biggles books in that series and gripping yarns for girls such as 'Deborah's Secret Quest' and 'The Little Countess.' All the girls were called Lavender, Annabella or Fish and said things 'stoutly'. <BR/><BR/>I think nostalgia and sentimental attachment would always come first. I would leave the first editions and signed copies to the flames and save the books with special memories and associations.monixhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16631194815411019266noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post-72052534187911065942008-01-05T22:37:00.000+00:002008-01-05T22:37:00.000+00:00D - Sorry, the flames/books combination has unfort...D - Sorry, the flames/books combination has unfortunate connotations, of course. It was meant to be provocative - not politically so, but in terms of being absolutely *forced* to make a choice. The story of Jude and you is terribly poignant but also inspiring - a worthy subject for one of your own autobiographical posts one day, perhaps? I lugged four large bags of books to a charity shop just before Christmas and felt enormously virtuous, but the net result has been like baling out the cliched sinking ship with the proverbial teaspoon. <BR/><BR/>Martin - good to know I'm not alone in all this (of course I knew I wasn't but it feels good to squeeze confessions out of other people!). My Pond Life book is still in frequent use, so I can justify its space on the shelf on more than sentimental grounds. I fell in love with the film of My Brilliant Career when it came out, and enjoyed the book and its sequel but a couple of others I acquired subsequently were quite unreadable and I think they 'went' some years ago - this was one of them, if it's the country house 'comedy' one you are referring to? A hazard of discovering a writer through their best work and then moving on to their 'minor' works . . . it usually ends badly for all concerned.Juliethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18055924620237477722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post-79882238539678024932008-01-05T21:47:00.000+00:002008-01-05T21:47:00.000+00:00An utterly fascinating post, Juliet.My instinct is...An utterly fascinating post, Juliet.<BR/><BR/>My instinct is never to get rid of any books, but that's just me being materialistic. And, given that even the loft conversion built to accommodate my books is now full up, unrealistic. <BR/><BR/>To make matters worse, many of the books I possess, I've never read. Should one dump those that have been read before and focus on the to-be-read pile? I'm not convinced.<BR/><BR/>I've gradually come to the conclusion that there is a hierarchy of books. <BR/><BR/>First, those with strong personal connections, to be guarded with one's life. (The snag is, I have rather a lot of those, but I do love them dearly.) It may be 'the history of me', but I don't think that's the same as vanity. And even if it is, I don't care. The books stay.<BR/><BR/>Second, the really good books that have been read (but deserve to ber read again 'when I have a bit more time') or are close to the top of the reading list.<BR/><BR/>Third,the books that have some interest, but aren't crucial. To be kept, unless space makes it impossible.<BR/><BR/>Fourth, the rest. These are the only ones that it doesn't hurt to dispose of. At least, not so much... <BR/><BR/>Two final comments. First, bizarrely, I was once given that exact same edition of the Observer's Book of Pond Life as a present. 'All aspects described' is a great phrase for such a subject, though I don't think members of the legal profession got a mention. But the book did go, some years back. <BR/><BR/>Second, did you know that Miles Franklin once wrote a crime novel? It was reprinted a decade or more ago. I managed about 20 pages and then gave up, I'm afraid. That one I have kept, but for curiosity value only.Martin Edwardshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16082485795280777670noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-684094023681819935.post-70024207553684895062008-01-05T15:23:00.000+00:002008-01-05T15:23:00.000+00:00No Juliet, the road to redemption does not start w...No Juliet, the road to redemption does not start with a bonfire of books. (We all know where that leads . . . ) And, although George Orwell said that we should 'kill our darlings', he was talking about words, and the overuse of, not books. So you can hang on to your books.<BR/><BR/>I have no useful solutions; for every one book that goes out of this house via Greenmetropolis, the local hospice shop, or to family and friends, at least half a dozen march in. Two more arrived by post this morning. I fear there is no hope.<BR/><BR/>But if flames there must be, I'd be clinging to a 19th century book of recipes (for a range, so works a treat with the Aga); my grandmother won this as a school prize for cookery in 1889, when she was 10. <BR/><BR/>And in the other hand would be my precious first edition of Hardy's Jude the Obscure, because of all that it represents to me. And for the irony. My father bought it for me when I was 15; just two years later he announced, in no uncertain terms that I could give up any fancy notions of trying for Oxford - or for any university come to that - as he had no intention of supporting me. It was time for me to get out to work and bring some money in. He was a man with whom it was unwise to argue.<BR/><BR/>So, I didn't go to university at 18 but, at 40, I graduated in English Literature and Art History, having completed a part-time degree while juggling family life, a crumbling marriage and a full-time career. It would have been 'yah boo sucks to you, Papa' if he had not already gone to meet his Maker. (If only I could have been a fly on the wall for that confrontation.) And Jude the Obscure has always been the one book that, in a house where 'books rule OK', I can lay my hands on immediately'. <BR/><BR/>None of this helps you to deal with your own book invasions, of course, but it was a thought-provoking question! Thank you for the diversion on an otherwise grey, miserable Saturday afternoon.60GoingOn16https://www.blogger.com/profile/14216400213406672396noreply@blogger.com