TOO MANY BOOKS

One of the best things about working in publishing is also one of the worst things. Free books.

It’s pretty incredible to me, still, that I work in a place surrounded by so many books and that I am allowed to, you know, just read them. Books don’t grow on trees you know! Except once upon a time they did. And here they still do - metaphorically. You can just reach out and… pluck! A bitter-sweet Lisa Moore. A plump, ripe Nigella Lawson. A crisp and chilly Karin Fossum. A vintage Peter Ackroyd (an excellent year, 2010.)

Just now, coming up to the autumn bumper crop, the shelves are groaning. And like a landlord who goes into the trade because he loves the taste of beer, then finds that the proximity of the beer pump is a little dangerous, working in a publishers I have developed something of a problem. Too many books.

Too many books at work (I have them piled up in boxes round my desk in defiance of health and safety. If I ever go missing for an extended period, please look for me under the avalanche of TBS boxes). The ones at work are in transit, at least – they pile up and then I send them out to weigh down other people’s coffee tables and bedside drawers. 

And too many books at home. More problematic these, because they are MINE and I can’t bear to part with them. The ones I have to read (because I’m publicising them). The ones I want to read (often they overlap, you’ll be glad to know). The ones I shouldn’t be reading (unfortunately always the hardest to resist). Books for fun, books for reference, books as medication; nothing lifts a mild depression faster than a Georgette Heyer.

I’ve resorted to desperate tactics. Everything is double-shelved, a tactic I highly recommend because it enables you to put all the embarrassing/unedifying volumes at the back. Joy of Sex? No problem! It’s behind Ian McEwan. Bride Leads the Chalet School? She’s peeping coyly out from behind Rose Tremain. And the [cough mumble blush]. No, I can’t quite bring myself to tell you about that one. Suffice to say it’s behind an extremely boring tome on Anglo-Saxon grammar that no-one’s ever likely to get down.

There’s a teetering vertical pile next to my bed, and some on my husband’s side when I fall asleep reading and the current book ends up sliding down his side of the duvet. More in the children’s room (yes; you can read by the light from a Sleepy Bunny nightlight). In the kitchen I’ve sacrificed space for a dishwasher in order to fit in all my cookbooks, thus freeing up an extra shelf in the living room for more novels. 

But it’s getting desperate. I’ve had to resort to moving house (ostensibly to get an extra bedroom for the kids, but frankly a bed is about all they’ll be allowed to put in there). And I still can’t bear to throw any away. Even though the removal company who came to quote for the job said “if you want us to pack all those books it’ll be extra.” See? Too many books!

But the truth is of course that there’s really no such thing as too many books – only too little room. And what’s a dishwasher (or a new house) in the scheme of things? Nothing when you have the collected wit and wisdom of so many people at your fingertips.

Clearly whittling down my collection is out of the question so I’m throwing the problem out there for you good people to solve. Comment below with your suggestion for the most amusing, practical or unusual solution and the winner will get… a book!

Your choice of:
Signed first edition of
Dr Johnson’s Dictionary of Modern Life Pre-publication first edition of Peter Ackroyd’s The English Ghost
Pre-publication first edition of Audrey Niffenegger’s Night Bookmobile Slightly foxed “vintage” Armada reprint of Eleanor M Brent-Dyer’s Bride Leads the Chalet School purchased by me (new) in approximately 1989.