Off My Noodle

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Book Lover’s Lament: Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

(This is copyrighted material. For permission to reprint in any print or Internet publication, please write to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). Forwarding and printing out for private use is heartily encouraged! To change your email address, simply use the unsubscribe link at the bottom of this email and register your new email on any page of http://www.judygruen.com.)

My daughter led the spring cleaning charge by insisting we sort through the dozens of books languishing, unread and apparently unloved, throughout the house. Many of these were children’s books that had been evicted from the shelves long ago to make way for newer, more exciting, and more sophisticated tastes. After all, Red Fish, Blue Fish and Days with Frog and Toad are swell for the five-year-olds in the house, but eventually they must bow to the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, the Series of Unfortunate Events and C.S. Lewis’ adventures in Narnia.

I had resisted the pressure to give away our books that were bought when our kids were small. The fact is, I love pulling them out when we have young visitors. I love the sparkle in children’s clear and innocent eyes when I hand them Yertle the Turtle or The Wrong Way Rabbit. They didn’t care that the spines are no longer stiff, the binding now dog-eared. For at least a few minutes, these children have new vistas to explore.

I certainly didn’t dare reveal my other reason for keeping the books around: grandchildren!  My teens would have rolled their eyes clear back to their spinal cords if I had confessed this thought. So what if reading-age grandchildren are probably ten years off, if not more. What’s ten years? A blink of an eye!  I already savored the idea of reading to a grandchild the very same book that I had read to his Mommy or Daddy. If this indicts me as a hopeless sentimentalist, I plead guilty as charged.

Yet there was no denying that the loads of books in the house had become onerous. Given the boxes of books in the family room, alone, it was only a matter of time before a guest might ask if we had just moved in. “Oh yes ” I’d say. “Just moved in seven years ago!” This would not do. In my defense, I’m no pack rat. I love to toss old papers and receipts as soon as they outlive their usefulness or potential to clear our name during an IRS audit, God forbid. But it’s often been painful to part with books, even the clunkers. I resolved to pluck up my courage and give some of the most tattered books, and the clunkers, a well deserved heave-ho.

My daughter dragged out the first box, and dealt me books like a card dealer in Vegas. We easily dispensed with The New Adventures of Mary Kate and Ashley (as I felt a pang of sadness for the long-lost innocence of these girls). We tossed most of the Harry Potter collection because they had literally been read to pieces, and it would have tested the transfiguration skills of even Professor McGonagall to render them whole again. Organize Your Home Office for Success was a well intentioned gift from an organized friend who took one look at my office and said, “There’s help for people like you.” However, what people like this don’t understand is that if people like me would even consider reading books like this, our offices wouldn’t look like we were waiting for federal disaster relief in the first place. Bats, Bugs and Biodiversity was too politically correct. I made a note to send it to Al Gore. Perhaps he had grandchildren?

“What about Eloise?” my daughter asked. “We haven’t read this in years.”

“Nothing doing,” I said, snatching back the book about the delightfully mischievous little girl who lives at the Plaza Hotel and calls room service to order one roast beef bone, one raisin, and seven spoons. “Then I hang up and look at the ceiling for a while and think of a way to get a present,” I read, quoting Eloise. No, Eloise was too precious. Ditto for Madeline, the Great Illustrated Classics abridged versions of War of the Worlds, Swiss Family Robinson, and The Three Musketeers. (After all, the time comes when kids must learn that the Three Musketeers is more than just a candy bar.)

As I justified my reasons for keeping more and more books, my daughter became impatient. Wanting to cooperate, I scanned other bookshelves throughout the house and found duplicate copies of Pride and Prejudice, Great Expectations, Tuck Everlasting a best-selling John Adams biography, and several other titles. I had no idea how we ended up with so many duplicates, but at least they could easily be dismissed. I began to place them in the giveaway pile, but then was seized with inspiration: These were classic titles. Why not save them and give them to the kids when they were grown and had homes of their own? My daughter harrumphed at my insubordination. To my credit, I agreed –reluctantly– to give away the moldering paperbacks from my days as an English major in college. Their titles on our shelves suggested that the family was literate and therefore had some snob appeal, but really, would I ever read Mill on the Floss or Tess of the D’urbevilles again? Even if I had any second-generation English majors in the house, they’d have to buy newer copies of the books that the teacher demanded, no doubt with more current and politically correct commentary.

I took my paltry pile of books I was willing to part with and listed them on Amazon.com. They didn’t bring in much money, but at least they cleared some precious shelf space for new books. 

(And speaking of new books, my new book, The Women’s Daily Irony Supplement, will be released in May! Order your copy today on the store page of this web site, amazon.com, or bn.com. You can also catch my new audio blog on ouradio.org.) 

Posted by judy @ 01:42 PM • (19) Comments