I know—you've heard it before. Too many books, too little space. But since I could no longer walk across the floor—heck, I couldn't even see the floor—in the so-called office, I knew it was time to take drastic action.
Of course I gave this much thought, and I came to a realization: this house does not like books. Why do I say that? Because there is no room for bookshelves, or at least, not if I want any other furniture, like to sit on. What's the problem? No wall space.
I live in a stately Victorian house with a whole lot of doors and windows—and when I say windows, I mean six-foot windows that begin about two feet from the floor. Front parlor: two windows, two sliding doors, each six feet wide. Back parlor: three windows, the aforesaid sliding door, two regular doors (side by side, for some reason—you have multiple choices about how to go from any room to the next). Dining room: three windows, five doors, fireplace. Kitchen: three windows, five doors, and appliances. Net result: no space for bookshelves. Upstairs is just as bad.
I am not giving up my books. Well, not all of them. Several years ago we built an entire wall of shelves in the office, and they are now filled three deep. I had not seen the books on the back layer for years until this great purge. Mysteries take up fully half of the shelves, with the collection of Golden Age mysteries in the rearmost layer. I'm keeping those.
Then comes contemporary mystery fiction: books by my friends and co-bloggers; books by writers I truly admire, whose books I will buy no matter what. (And I even have two shelves of my very own!) I've been doing triage there, and my local library will be happy (I think I'm up to four boxes for them, and I'm not done yet).
|So I filled in the extra space with|
Agatha Christie books--hey, we have
the same publisher, don't we?
Any bets on how long that space will last?