“Buying books would be a good thing if one could also buy the time to read them in: but as a rule the purchase of books is mistaken for the appropriation of their contents.”
–Artur Schopenhauer

I’ve already written about my notebook hoard. But now another confession, which I am sure will shock you: I buy too many books, more than I can ever possibly read. I know I’m not alone in this. According to BookNet Canada’s latest study, nearly half of Canadian adults read every day. The majority (60%) of those prefer paper. So, if most of those Canadians are anything like me, that means a lot of us have teetering stacks of books by our beds. Unread.

During a recent clear-out at my place, I was shocked by the amount of unused clothing, kitchen gear, and pet supplies I had accumulated. Although I did manage to donate most of it, I still feel guilty. Everyone knows that consumerism is destroying the environment. Yet, I have a hard time seeing books as consumer items in the same way. It feels okay to grab a copy of the latest bestseller when I won’t let myself get a new sweater. Even thinking about books the same way as I do clothes seems sacrilegious. But maybe we should use the same logic with them; if we haven’t read them in a year, we need to let them go.

Part of the problem, though, is finding homes for them. Friends tend to want to take one or two at a time, and many libraries refuse them outright. Most of mine end up at the Salvation Army or one of the other big thrift stores, but I try not to think too hard about what happens to them if they can’t be sold. Years ago, I parked in the wrong part of the parking lot at one of those places and was shocked to see a big dumpster filled with old paperbacks waiting for pickup. It seemed like disrespect for their loyal service.

Whenever I read about a school or a library being forced to limit students’ access to certain books that don’t suit someone’s ideology, I feel protective of everything in print. What if everything disappears from the internet and our e-readers, and it’s down to my ancient second-hand copy of the 1970s classic A Barefoot Doctor’s Manual to save someone’s life? Even though I chickened out of the backpacking trip that inspired the original purchase, it might prove essential after all.

Although the medical wisdom in a book like that is long out of date, at least books themselves never go out of fashion. I can take my time working my way through those stacks beside my bed. But should I? Maybe somebody else really needs what’s in them..or nobody does, including me.