Bookish Discussion #4 // Libraries vs. Ownership

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Over the past three blog posts, I’ve covered my opinions on the issue of bookish aesthetics and whether caring about a book’s appearance makes a reader shallow. (You can find the links here, here, and here.) If you’ll recall, I’ve written these posts in response to some negative opinions on BookTube, and now I want to tackle another issue: the fact that some bookworms get judged for buying a lot of books. 

First of all, let me just say, I do think it’s possible to buy too many books, but only under certain circumstances. If you’re having trouble making ends meet, for instance, spending a hundred dollars on books is not a wise choice, and you would be buying too many books for your situation. On top of that, there is also the issue of space. Sometimes you just don’t have enough room to store your books, and it would be unwise to buy more, as you could suffocate under a pile of books and die. And we can’t ignore that books can become a status symbol, and that those with larger collections can forget why they buy those books in the first place. No one likes a snotty bookworm who lords their book collections over the less fortunate. But aside from a few exceptions, I don’t think you can buy too many books. So let’s talk about why I'm always growing my collection. 

When I was young, I frequented the library, and I eventually reached a point where I had read the majority of the interesting-looking selections on the YA shelf. (It wasn’t a huge shelf, but it was still a grand achievement in my eyes.) At that time, I didn’t own too many books of my own, and it was perfectly natural to borrow the books I wanted to read. But then I got one of my first introductions to the frustration of libraries. After reading and falling in love with THE HUNGER GAMES, not only did I have to wait for CATCHING FIRE to come out, I also had to wait for everyone and his uncle on the waiting list to read it first. It was horribly inconvenient, and I still haven’t recovered from the shock of it (okay, that’s a lie, but hopefully you get the point). Then there was the matter of those books never being on hand again when I wanted to reread them. Consequently, my then-minuscule book collection got its first major kick start when I asked for THE HUNGER GAMES and CATCHING FIRE for Christmas. 

Suddenly my reading life was so convenient. I could read those two books as often as I liked. I could finish THE HUNGER GAMES and then read it all over again if I wanted to. There was no one to complain about due dates and late fees and all that lame stuff. Furthermore, I didn’t have to worry about whose grubby hands had touched those books before me (because I can be a bit of a germaphobe). They were mine, and mine alone. And during that glorious time, I began to realize how important ownership was to me. When the physical copies because truly mine, so did the stories themselves. They became more a part of me than I could have ever thought possible. 

So many of the books I libraried during that time have faded from my memory, and if I hadn’t kept detailed records of my reading habits, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you the titles of some of them (and I have a really good memory for book titles). 

Nowadays, with the benefit of hindsight, this feels like a loss. There were so many stories that I read and loved, and I didn’t get to keep them—I didn’t get to cherish them. I feel their absence. One of my biggest goals is to buy copies of all the books I loved during that time so I can remember those parts of myself. 

See, the thing is, when I read stories, I like to absorb them and allow them to shape me (or not, if they’re awful). They become mental scrapbooks for my thoughts, and rereading them strengthens my memory. However, that doesn’t happen with library books anymore. Instead, I feel like I’m reading them with gloves over my mind. I can enjoy the stories, and even engage a little, but they don’t touch me in the same way. I feel more like an observer than a participant, and that bothers me. But I can’t seem to allow myself to experience them in the way that I would like to because, in the end, I have to return them. And it hurts so much more when it feels like I’m returning a piece of myself. As strange and lame as it sounds, I find greater peace and comfort in reading something I know I can keep for the rest of my life. I can allow it to effect me, because I know I won’t have to give it up. I won’t have to feel like there are slices of my soul, lined up on shelves for strangers to paw through and wear out. 

Not to mention, we eventually switched libraries, and our new library didn’t have as great a selection. Sure, we could use interlibrary loan, but we had to pay about three dollars shipping for each book we borrowed that way, and it just seemed more logical to pay money for books I could keep instead of books I had to return. Now that I’m in Virginia, I have a relatively large library with a great book selection at my disposal, and I have been using it. In fact, I prefer to borrow books I’m unsure of, so I don’t have to regret buying them if they’re awful. But if they’re great, I’ll still end up wanting to buy them. 

On top of that, there’s another, larger reason why I prefer to buy books. Authors must eat (strange, I know). They must provide shelter for themselves, and they must wear clothing (unless they are nudists). Not to mention, they sometimes like to go out to the movies, or eat at restaurants, or buy books for themselves, among other things. In order to do all this, it helps if they get payed for the books they write. (You can call me Captain Obvious, if you’d like.) While I realize that my book orders won’t buy an author more than a candy bar, if that, I know that sales add up. And I want to support authors and the industry I love, even if I can only do that in small ways. Libraries are wonderful, yes, and I highly recommend them. But it has always bothered me that, when a library is concerned, an author only gets payed once for something fifty or a hundred people will read. Wouldn’t it be better if they got payed fifty or a hundred times, instead? I would rather pay for my admission to a story, so to speak, even when there is a free ride available. I want to do my own small part to help the publishing industry thrive. 

I could go on and on about my other motivations for buying large quantities of books. But I’ve taken enough time as it is. In the end, regardless of my many reasons, it all boils down to this: buying books is a good thing. Some people don’t have the money, and they shouldn’t feel bad. Some people prefer to avoid clutter, and that’s fine. Some people don’t reread, so buying books feels extraneous. That is okay. Some people just really love libraries, and I support that. I won’t judge you for your book buying choices. They are yours. But I would also like to enjoy my own large book collection without feeling like that makes me shallow, just as you should feel free to enjoy your stamp collection or your bowling ball collection or your taxidermied fish collection. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? What are your book buying habits? Do you prefer to keep your collection small, or are you growing your collection? Do you like libraries, or do you prefer to read books you own?