
I wrote yesterday about the realization that it is time to deaccumulate books. The question is, what will I keep?
Here are some first thoughts:
A goal is to get our books to the place where moving them, presumably to a smaller place is manageable both in terms of the number of books and the space they will take up. One person commented on yesterday’s post that they try to keep their collection to two boxes so they are ready to move easily at any time. I’m not there yet but that is commendable.
I want to keep some books of timeless beauty and excellence. So many books are “dated” in ten years. I will probably hang onto our Library of America and may set out to read the ones I’ve not gotten to.
I want to keep the books of favored authors. Wendell Berry, John Steinbeck, Wallace Stegner, The Inklings, Chesterton, Sayers, and MacDonald come to mind as well as Pilgrim’s Progress.
I want to keep great theological works–Calvin and Augustine come to mind. Very few recent. Fleming Routledge is an exception.
There are some other Christian writers who have been companions on the journey–Eugene Peterson, J. I. Packer, some John Stott, and James Sire, a personal friend whose thought and writing influenced me from college days to the present.
Reference works if the scholarship is reasonably current and I don’t have duplicate electronic copies. I have a lot of Bible commentaries. I will save the best–Barth on Romans, Lane on Mark, Carson on John come to mind.
There are a few family heirlooms–my grandfather Scott’s Balzac series that my mom loved, some family Bibles.
In history and biography, I will save the most exceptional–Manchester on Churchill, Churchill himself, Chernow on Washington and Grant, and Isaacson on Da Vinci are at the top of the list.
I may keep more poetry than literary prose–George Herbert, Beowulf (my Seamus Heaney translation), Seamus Heaney himself, Langston Hughes, Mary Oliver, T. S. Eliot, Robert Frost, to name a few.
I probably prefer hardbound books or quality paperbacks for looks and durability.
In the case of books I review, I will probably keep very few. That doesn’t mean they are not worthwhile, but simply that I probably won’t keep coming back to them.
One thing many of the books I’ve mentioned have in common is that I turn to many of them again and again. They continue to reward me with insight. If not, then why do I keep them?
Some I will keep because they represent important junctures in my life, from the Reinhold Niebuhr I discovered in college to a spiritual formation book by Leighton Ford that focused on attentiveness.
This is a process that I will pursue gradually–say two to three books a day, a box a week, a shelf at a time. I suspect there will be a series of “cuts” or “culls.” After all, I hope I had good reasons for originally acquiring the books I did.
Others who have described going through this call it painful. I see that. But I also see it as a chance to remember my reading life. I see it as a chance to liberate my books–to give them a chance to be read by someone else rather than gathering dust on my shelves. And I see it as a chance to bring my library to greater focus, even as this is true for the rest of my life.
Personally, I think it is denial and irresponsibility to let a spouse or children do this for us, if we are granted the time to do this ourselves. And perhaps it is one more parting gift to leave them with the books that clearly meant the most to us, that tangibly express what was dearest to us.
I’d love to hear from others going through this stage of life. I think it is time for adult conversations about such things in the community of bibliophiles.


