Confessions of a book whore

I am a whore. I am a repulsive, dirty, filthy, sneaky, smutty whore. I sell myself for pleasures untold and pleasures told. I am owned by many and loved by none. I am thoroughly shameless which could be my greatest shame of all. I am a whore of books, a book whore. I am a bibliophile, an obsessively compulsive, mega maniacal collector of all things paper. They say that admittance is the first step to recovery, so here we go.

I just can't stop buying books. It's getting to be a big problem. We'll in this stage of my addiction I would have to say that the only real problem that I face is that I don't have a big enough bookshelf to keep all the volumes that I own. Sometimes I often dream of the bookshelf that I will have; the perfect bookshelf. It would stretch from wall to wall in my living room, ceiling to floor, unobstructed. No TV would have the power to stand in front of this massive monolith of words. Friends and family would quiver beneath its shadow. They would stand in awe of my collection unable to know what to say first, all the while I would calmly and causally say in my most cavalier of voice, "Oh yes, this is my bookshelf. I had to have it custom made. It's from upstate New York. Would anyone care for a hors d'oeuvre?" They would all be powerless against my assumed opinions assuming, of course, that I got them from all the books I read. Pretension would be my sword and I would wield it well. Pulling a rare tome from the shelf as if I were young Arthur drawing Excalibur from the mythic stone, I would read and lay waste to anyone that dared to oppose me.

And then the debate would ensue causing voices to elevate, feelings to get bruised and carne apache to go flying across the room. I'm sure a situation like that is way over the top and could get out of hand pretty easily, but in reality I would pass. What I'm really saying is that I would love to just flaunt my collection at any chance possible, as well as my knowledge about the books I have, providing that I have read them.

But that therein lays the problem. Many of the books that I do own are not currently read. They have been multiplying like rabbits in my room. I have so many "next books" standing in line it's really hard to decide to where to start. There is only so many hours in the day and as much as I hate to admit it, you can only devote a small portion to reading. Still, I will buy a book knowing full well that the likelihood of it getting read is slim, at least in the near future that is. With each book that I take home those chances are pushed farther and farther. As I peruse the thrift store shelves and find and interesting book, simply the thought of reading it makes me desire it. I want to know exactly what is contained within its pages. I will hold it in my hand and flip through it. If it has a cover I'll look at the inside flap or the first page to see what the book is all about. Sometimes if I'm really on the fence I'll just walk around the store with it trying to determine if it's a book I could live with, or live without. Could it be, I ask, if this book in my hands could change my life if only I would let it? If the curiosity is strong enough I will stick it under my arm, claiming it as mine.

However, thinking about this is almost depressing. What kind of fate have I really saved this book from? Instead of being read it's doomed to continue to wait, just on a different shelf in a far less accommodating situation (sitting beside the very loud Black Hawk Down or even worse, the bloodied antisocial, Fight Club. But hey, I do have Stargirl and she is pretty cute maybe it could sit next to her). Will this change my buying habits? Heck no, but it may give me just a little more buyers guilt which is just what I need more of.

Yesterday I had some amazing finds. I bought The Jordan Rules by Sam Smith, a book about Michael Jordan. He is my favorite athlete, I would have to say, but the sole reason I bought it was to have my name blazon in bold print on the hardcover spine as it sits in a prominent spot on my shelf (this one would be eye-level to certain relatives). Also on the list was a Faulkner book with a totally rad title and a very large book of English and American verse. It contained all the greats: Keats, Dickenson, Whitman, Elliot. Really, how could you pass this one up? I'm a bit ashamed to tell what my next pick was so I will just skip to my favorite of the bunch, Nick Hornby's Long Way Down, in hardcover nonetheless. I recently finished High Fidelity which I felt was an outstanding book from and equally great author. It was also purchased from a local thrift store. I can't wait to start this one...eventually.

What made me the most excited of all was that today I was able to complete my collection of the Bourne Series books by Robert Ludlum with the elusive Bourne Supremacy! This feat took about two years of scouring meticulously through dirty thrift shops in more than one state. I find this no short of amazing. I made it a personal quest to get the trilogy directly from thrift stores, partly out of principle and the other part out of book hunter bragging rights. There's nothing more gratifying than completing a book series that was completely second hand. (I've found the entire Asia series by James Clavell in this way as well.) I'm sure twentysomething’s years from now will be doing this with the Harry Potter books or maybe even the Twilight Series.

I also like to get books just for their title. Along with the Bourne Supremacy I found this odd hardcover with the title Pistols for Two. Can this not be the single coolest title for a book ever? Great names like Gone with the Wind, The Grapes of Wrath, and The Fountainhead all pale in comparison to Freakin' Pistols for Two!

So what, then, is the point to all of this collecting? I don't know, we all need a hobby and I guess this is mine. Reading for me is special. There is power in words. Ancient civilizations were built on the written word; people have been inspired to a greater cause because of another’s words and hey, at the end of the day books make a great form of entertainment. Do I have a problem? Maybe I do and maybe I don't. According to the addiction recovery model the second step toward recovery is to believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to our sanity. I refuse to believe that I am insane so maybe I'm back at square one after all.