a library of friends

“Our library isn’t very extensive, said Anne, “but every book in it is a friend. We’ve picked our books up through the years, here and there, never buying one until we had first read it and knew that it belonged to the race of Joseph.”

—Anne’s House of Dreams, L.M. Montgomery

This is another reason I love Anne Shirley so much – she’s hit on the perfect reason for buying a book, and the perfect way to curate a library.

I read voraciously, fast and often, and my reading speed outstrips both my book budget and my storage space. Aside from those practical reasons, I don’t actually want to own every book I’ve ever read. I’d rather own the ones I love, the ones I turn to again and again for comfort, wisdom, laughter or helpful information, the ones I want to lend to friends. And, of course, the ones that hold sentimental value – whether they were picked up in a special location (like the copies of 84 Charing Cross Road and The Two Towers I bought at Shakespeare & Co. in Paris) or passed down to me (like the copy of No Children, No Pets and the set of My Book House tales, given to me by my grandmothers). (These book treasures, heirloom and otherwise, may feature in their own separate post. I’ve got quite a few of them.)

This is why I didn’t keep all my college textbooks, even the novels I read for my literature classes – if I didn’t love it or hadn’t been profoundly affected by it, out it went. This is also why, in my new gig as a reviewer for Shelf Awareness, I end up passing on many of the ARCs I receive – because I (honestly) don’t love them all, and because I (seriously) don’t have room for them all.

This is why I rarely buy books without doing a bit of research first – looking up the author’s website, reading an excerpt online or flipping through it in the bookstore – though I’ll buy anything by a few treasured authors. This is also why, sometimes, after checking out a book from the library, I go to the Brattle or the Booksmith and see if I can find a copy – because it made me laugh (or cry) or touched me so deeply that I want it for my own. (Recent examples of this phenomenon include Alice Bliss, Maisie Dobbs and the Valentine books by Adriana Trigiani.)

I believe – deeply – in buying books, real books, because those books are the lifeblood of the publishing industry, and I want to support those authors who are working so hard (and who sometimes, graciously, come to town to give readings and signings and talk to their fans). I believe in buying those books at real bookstores, because I want those places to be around for years and decades to come.

But I also believe in the beauty of a medium-sized, thoughtfully edited, well-curated library. I want the books on my shelves to be friends of mine. I want to look at my shelves and see the progress of my literary journey, but I also want to see familiar faces, wise elders helping me find my way, warmhearted friends who will let me spend a few hours in their world, and wordsmiths whose work delights me down to my toes.

How do you curate your library?

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