Brett put up the bookshelves in the playroom and I’m moving down most of my adult fiction and nearly all of the young adult fiction is now there. I’m trying to get most of my upstairs book to be vertical again (they’ve been crammed in to save space) and also I need to get my mom’s books out of her spare room.

It’s making me antsy.

Everytime I go through my books I find some to get rid of and some I should maybe get rid of but won’t. Also, I’m trying to sort them in my mind so that when someone says, “Hey, do you have a copy of XYZ?” I can say, “Third shelf downstairs, to the right.”

The top two shelves are the adult fiction, alphabetically, and at the end of the shelves is a space for anthologies. The next two shelves are young adult fiction and the bottom shelf is the YA books that don’t fit (again, in alphabetical order so it’s like from the Ws on to the Zs) and biographies. And then at the very end of that shelf (there’s a big space here) are the kids’ anthologies. I like the old books reading primers that have fables, fairy tales, etc. So we have some of those.

You need to understand that these are ginormous shelves that go across the back of the room. I thought that they didn’t look big enough but we keep putting books in them and they keep making space for more. It’s a heady experience.

Upstairs in Noah’s room are still the chapter books that he wants to keep near and dear. All the Beverly Cleary books (except for the teen romance ones) and Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle and then some odds and ends.

Mixed in with the adult fiction are YA books that are too old for a 12-year old to be reading w/out a heads up to the parents. You know, Robert Cormier and Nancy Farmer. Then that gets challenging. Some YA books have adult themes but are ok for a 12-year old and some YA books aren’t very adult but still should be in the adult section so you can pull them down later and surprise said teen. Like I don’t particularly think there’s anything wrong with some of Ursula K. LeGuin’s older YA books — meaning I won’t feel like I need to be at least somewhat aware when Noah picks it up — but it would bore him now and so then I’m not sure what to do. See, it has to be sorted right in my mind so when I try to apply logic, I get stuck. So I’m kinda stuck and very dusty.

The other shelf downstairs will likely be homeschooling activity books. But should I put the gardening activity books there or with the gardening books upstairs? This is the kind of thing that I have to think on. I have to sit down and picture myself reaching for the book and then seeing where I’m reaching.

Upstairs are my favorite fiction (all of my green books, the Alfred Hitchcock pulp short story collections, Grace Paley) and the non-fiction. I’m trying to keep better track of the non-fiction so I can find it when we need it for homeschooling. Also most of the poetry is upstairs (maybe all of it?) and memoirs so far are living up here, too. With the exception of kid memoirs, like Beverly Cleary’s autobiographies.

Picture books are on the bottom shelves of Noah’s bookshelf, Madison’s bookshelf, one of the bookshelves in the living room and one of the bookshelves in the basement. We have too many picture books (honestly, way too many) but every time I sort through, I can’t get rid of any. I’m trying to decide whether or not to pull out the non-fiction picture books and put them somewhere special. And the historical fiction picture books. I ought to organize them better so I can find them. Also the early readers maybe should be in one place — the Cynthia Ryland books and Dr. Seuss, too.

This is all very confusing to me. I know it makes for a boring entry but I’m thinking it out so bear with me.

So … onwards.

Back in the real basement (the unfinished part) are a bunch of stored books but I’ve gotten most of those out. All of the pocket paperbacks are now up on shelves. I don’t save pocket paperbacks unless a) they’re the only copy of a classic that I own or b) they’re neat copies. I have all of my dad’s old Hemingway paperbacks, which he used to buy at the dime store.

I’m getting rid of fiction that I enjoyed but don’t need to own. Again, this is in someways arbitrary and I’m having trouble with it. Like why keep Elizabeth Berg? The best reason is to give her to other people because she’s an easy read and my sister and mom (and some of my friends) will sometimes come over and ask for a book. Almost everyone likes Elizabeth Berg; she’s totally innocuous. But I don’t need to read her more than once. And then Ann Tyler. I love her but I don’t love all of her books. I have, I think, most of them, maybe even all of them. But I don’t need all of them only I can’t bear to start trying to figure out which — if any — I should get rid of.

I’m also a sucker for weird copies of things. We have three copies of To Kill a Mockingbird (one is an early hardback edition, one is an early paperback edition, and one is the copy I got in high school). We have four of The Little Prince (all inscribed so we can’t get rid of any of them).

That’s another thing. What do I do with books that someone has gifted and written a message in the flyleaf if I don’t really like the book? I no longer need Slaves of New York but a dear friend gave it to me 19 years ago and so I’m keeping it. His name is there on the inside cover so that’s gotta stay.

And upstairs I have books on adoption, infertility, education and weird kids (I like to read books about play therapy and kids at risk) except for Torey Hayden’s books, which are downtairs because they’re pocket paperbacks. Where to put my parenting? Hmmm, maybe in the tall bookshelves downstairs and then move the picture books over to the wall shelves.

OK, break’s over. Back to shelving.

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