Tsundoku

A Question of Enough

/ rtrube54 / 3 Comments
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Do you want to raise the dander of a booklover? Just ask a question like this one I posted on my Facebook page the other day:

Some of the responses were ones of sheer incredulity:

“Is that even a question?”

“Need you ask? Really? LOL”

“Clearly a trick question.”

“Funny you would need to ask!”

It is a funny quality of booklovers that we can have a hundred (or a thousand) books waiting to be read, and then we see a book we’ve heard about, or is on a subject in which we are interested, or by an author we like and we don’t (we think) have it. One writer wrote that she had just taken a pile of books to the thrift store–and came home with a haul! One commenter summarized it best:

“I have loads of books, many I haven’t read yet, but the list I wish to buy keeps on growing.”

One page follower commented, “I would need to rent another apartment! LOL.” What is odd is that we run out of shelves, run out of storage space, and yet we buy more books. More than that, we discover in a moment of sobriety that we already have more books to read that we could possibly hope to read unless we live to be 200 or 500…if our eyes hold out that long.

There is a name for this. The Japanese call this tsundoku, the piling up of books that we aren’t reading. Others have referred to this as a “gentle madness.” Non-readers may just see this as hoarding but readers are adamant that “it’s not hoarding if it is books!” There is a paradox in all of this that some would say “yes” and “yes” to the question. We know we have enough and we would like to acquire more!

What is it then? I think in part for some of us, it is the intellectual curiosity stirred by our reading. Books beget books in the sense that often a book will be referenced that sounds interesting. And these days, it is too easy–five minutes on my phone and that book can be on its way to my doorstep. Sometimes it is FOMO–fear of missing out. We see or hear of a book that sounds interesting and we think, “I ought to snap that up, even if I can’t get to it right away.”

I think some of us just want to be set for the apocalypse. Booklovers had no problem during the pandemic–they just whittled down their TBR piles–until they ordered some more.

We hear “everything in moderation” and I would love to apply that to books. But the practice of moderation may be more challenging than the ideal. St. Augustine said, “Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.” At the other end of the spectrum, Oscar Wilde comments, “Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess.”

I think the idea of “enough” is closely related to the idea of contentment. And contentment to me seems the opposite to a kind of restlessness that is trying to fill up a sense of lacking, which I think helps explain everything from excess eating to our rampant consumerism. Sometimes, I think it is a hunger for ideas, a kind of craving or avarice for knowledge (but that may be my peculiar sin as a #5 of the Enneagram).

Saint Augustine also offered insight into how we may be free of restlessness. He wrote, “Our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.” Augustine is referring to God and while many may not agree that God is the answer to the restless heart, it may be worth considering the cause of our restless hearts that may lie beneath our never being able to have enough books.

In one sense, we all reach the place of having “enough” books when our hearts are finally at rest, beating their last beats. Personally, I’m not sure I want to wait that long. It is said, “blessed are the children, for they will inherit all the books.” I don’t think my son would count this a blessing. I have more than enough, to be truthful, and I want to learn how I might rest in that, and even discover how less is more. I’ll let you know how it is going…

Book FOMO

/ rtrube54 / 2 Comments

black and white books education facts

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I figured it out. There is this weird phenomena for many of us who love books. We tend to acquire more books than we can possibly read in our lifetimes. There’s even a Japanese word for this, tsundoku. I’ve puzzled why we do that. Or to get more personal, why do I do that?

I think it comes down, at least in part for me, to fear of missing out (FOMO). I read a review of an interesting book. I learn of a book that addresses a question I’m interested in. I see a list of recommended books, or a footnote in a book I’m reading. My wife tells me about a book she’s heard about that is interesting. A book I’ve heard about turns up in a used book store, or at a low price on Amazon Kindle (usually $2.99 or less for me). I see a forthcoming book that looks interesting and request it for review.

I don’t want to miss out on a chance to read any of these great books. I rationalize this with the thought that I may get around to reading the book someday. For books I’ve identified for review, I usually do, since publishers don’t like to send out books to reviewers who don’t review their books. For others, I may end up pulling them out if they relate to a subject I want to read up on, or if they strike my fancy.

But that also means I literally have boxes of stored books acquired in years past, and it is increasingly unlikely that I will get to many of these unless the pandemic goes on for years (which none of us want!). Every one of those books was acquired for some reason of interest–I’d like to read about that, and want to have the book at hand. Alas, newer acquisitions pushed older ones aside into boxes, stored away in a closet.

As it happens, that closet is probably the best place to shelter in our home in the event of severe storms or tornado warnings we get a few times a year. We’ve agreed that those boxes of books must go, along with stacks of books I have read but don’t need to keep. It’s tough though–I can imagine doing the Marie Kondo thing and end up discovering that they all give me joy. I may do better if I don’t open the boxes and just haul them away.

The truth is, I will miss out. I can’t read all the books in my own house within my likely remaining years, let alone the new books that will come out in years ahead and all the wonderful books that have been published that I don’t have. The antidote to my FOMO, oddly enough, is coming to terms with my mortality. It means accepting that God may be all-knowing, but I never will be. One of the comforts of my faith in everlasting life will be the chance to keep learning in whatever form that might take.

Hopefully, this will make me wiser in the new books I acquire. I do find myself asking more often “will I really read that?” The pandemic has helped in limiting some of the sources of lots of cheap books like library book sales and used bookstores.

Where I’d like to get to, and haven’t yet, is to reach the point where I don’t look at those book stacks and feel, “I’ve got to read all those books!” (so now you know the shape of my OCD!). It may be that making some of the stacks disappear will help. Perhaps it is applying a principle of relationships with people to books: if you are thinking about any other book than the book you are with, you are not with any of your books. A spiritual lesson I’ve been learning is to be present in the present rather than somewhere else. When I fear missing out, I’m taking away from the enjoyment of the book I’m reading right now. Perhaps with the uncertainty of the present time, it is not a bad thing to live in “right now.” With the book I’m reading. In my comfortable chair. With a coffee at my side. In those moments, I’m not missing out at all.