Maybe a little creepy without meaning to be, I sometimes think about this philosophy grad student who sold me a few of his books. The circumstances were: I was finishing up my second year in the college and it being finals week, I procrastinated by going online and checking out what the other students were selling online. That's when I found this guy's posting. He was selling A LOT of his books. I went through the spreadsheet listing the books being sold and was amazed at the similarities in our taste in books. I already owned a lot of the books on his list but I also took down a list of books I wanted. I called him up and went over right away to purchase the books because after all, I had nothing better to do than to prepare for my finals.
I was on a high with my new books; I got the books I had always wanted really cheap. I found the grad student dude really cool, but couldn't stop wondering why he was parting ways with his books. Who does that? Isn't everyone's life goal to have a personal library filled with all the books they love? Isn't the library a visual collage of one's personal history? and therefore, aren't you really ridding yourself of your past, the essence of who you are, and all that if you are selling your books? And even if you are willing to sell your history, how can you put a price on that?
So I did ask him. I could've been very polite, of course, but me being me, I said something like: "Are you nuts? Why are you selling your books?" He explained that he was graduating that quarter, planned on traveling the world, and couldn't bring his books along with him... I let it go at that, but all these years, when I look at my bookshelf and think about that cool grad student who helped me add to it, I still wonder why he did something I can't ever fathom doing. The answer he gave was surely not enough. He could've stored them at a friend's house, a parent's house, a paid for storage place, etc etc. He would want them back eventually, and maybe this very day, he's regretting selling his "Being and Nothingness." Yes, I know he can buy another copy... but will he really replace every book he sold? Well, maybe he will... and maybe that's why he kept such a meticulous inventory with a spreadsheet and all... but even if you repurchase every single book, they are not the ones he went to grad school with and thus less valuable.
Admittedly it's been awhile since I obsessed over why someone who obviously loves books would sell them. But a few months ago, I thought of him again. I was moving and I had to pack my books. And it was hard. The books are insanely hard to pack. There is no not standard size... and because they are rectangular prism-y and rigid, you can only fit so many into a box while having all this left over space. And and and, they are HEAVY! I guess not carrying more than a few books at a time, I didn't realize that they have a formidable combined strength. I ran out of boxes, then I ran out of my bags, then then... I just wanted to throw them away. I reasoned with myself, 'forget personal history. It's not that great anyway. Start anew moo, start anew.'
Yes, that was it! I was going to buy myself brand new books, get rid of the books I secretly hate (such as 'the elementary forms of religious life'), and this time, I'll be smart about committing to a book. I'll buy only the books I'll truly love and will love me back. No math or marx books ever. no lame books...
But I couldn't do it. Just couldn't. Even the books from way back that I don't particularly feel sad about saying good bye to. I don't know why. Some books I truly love too much, some books too pricey, and I couldn't bear the thought of going down in the number of books I own. So somehow (I don't know how) I dragged them all to my new place. The first thing I unpacked, of course, were my books. I put them into the shelves and felt complete. Since then I have reorganized my shelves and now I feel complete and organized.
Wow, what a close call! Now I understand the grad student dude and his impulse to unburden himself, but I also know that he regrets selling me his books. If he finds me, I'll give his books back... no wait, I can't. It's already mine. My personal history I can't part with.
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