Past tomes

For every period of my life, there have been books that went with it. Books that were given a plastic sticky foil protective coating, and then carried about just everywhere I was going.
Those books, to me, are synonymous with experiences from my past. They remind me of the time I bought them, the places where I read them.
They also represent, for that particular segment of time, the place I retreated to whenever things got rough in the outside world.
Some of them, even, represented rare displays of affection from people around me who, generally speaking, weren´t really affectionate.
They were books for a special time and a special place in the story of my life.

And, when that time and place was past, they ended up stored away in my bookshelf. Taken along with every move to another town, and lovingly re-shelved when unpacking the crates.
Sometimes, I would take them out, leaf through them, and put them back. Doing so made the feelings from that particular time in the past come to life- the very ones I had, back then, tried not to feel by immersing myself in those books.
They were, mostly, not very pleasant feelings.

Still, it didn´t feel right to let go of those books. They were my history, after all, weren´t they? Even if I had ceased to look at them, even if I had been reading some of them, literally, to pieces. Even if I had to hide them behind other books because their cracked and dingy spines were just too ugly to put in the front row. Even if I would, for some of those, have been acutely embarassed to have somebody know that they had been such a central part of my life once.
Every time I declutter my bookshelves, I am faced with those books. For some of them, I managed to let them go. Others are still hanging around, taunting me.

These are my next decluttering project.
If I ever wanted to read those particular works again, in the wonderful time of the internet and international online book retailers I would, probably, be able to procure another printed or even electronic version within a few days.
The actual tomes, the ones I have kept for so long, aren´t necessary for that. After all, in a book, it is the content that makes it valuable, not the dead tree it is printed on.
My past decluttering actions, when it came to books, have shown me that I almost never even think of re-reading any of the books I already decluttered, and if I do, most of the time I end up saying it is not worth my time and my money to hunt up another copy, anyway.
So why should I keep books I am not likely to re-read anyway? Preserving memories isn´t a good enough reason if they aren´t pleasant memories. And the books I am talking about don´t even make good decorations.

I know what I will be doing tonight....


Julia