Confessions Of an Unrepentant Bookaholic

A few days ago, I came home with an armload of used books. One of my friends stopped by, but I wasn’t fast enough to hide them before she saw them. “Where did all those books come from?’ she asked, accusingly. I braced myself, then came clean, “Thrift store,” I said. I was proud of my shameless, succinct response. “You told me you had more than enough books to fill an entire library, and you would never buy more,” she shrugged. “You have no will power. You’re an addict.”

We paused for a moment, as my so-called friend swept her arms broadly across the room. “Actually,” she noted, “You’re living in the middle of a library already. Chana, I’m worried about you.”

I attempted to lighten the mood and emphasize my philanthropic side. “They’ll all go in my Little Free Library (LFL) when I finish reading them, every single one,” I lied. I’m keeping the O’Henry anthology, I thought. “For the record,” I explained, “the books I bought today cost less than one dollar each,” I picked up the fattest book. “The paper and ink in this one probably cost the publisher a few bucks, not counting the cover. Look, it was $29.99 new.” “You’re hopeless,” were her parting words.

After the pandemic, in summer 2022, I attempted to wean myself from acquiring books and keeping them: I would only borrow them. Our local library’s less than a mile away. My dentist has a Little Free Library outside of his office, and I could sustain my need for a life-sustaining supply at least twice annually. My friend, Esther, who buys new books, is happy to give them to me after she’s read them. My intention was to read a book and then pass it on. Sometimes, neighbors dropped their books into my Little Free Library, and I occasionally found great books there, planning to return them to my LFL. after finishing them. Yet, despite my resolve, I admit that I remain a book junkie. I thrive on a constant infusion of the bound written word into my living space.

Years ago, when I was a first-year teacher in New York, I saw a student kicking a book down a flight of stairs. I lunged to catch it but missed. However, I did manage to grab the miscreant, Peter, a student of mine. I was known as an amiable educator, but at that moment I felt a need to emote, “A book is not a toy, Peter. I thought you were aware of that. I’m sure you know the difference between a book and a soccer ball.”

Peter did not fall to his knees in contrition, nor did he claim that he had left his glasses at home and that’s why he didn’t know the difference between a book and a soccer ball. He picked up the book, dusted it off on his pants, and walked away. I learned that there are people in the world, even good students, who do not think of books as prized possessions.

Then, there was the incident in college. My classmate, Elaine, and I were English majors, and we often sat in the library together reading the assignments for our Contemporary Lit class. When the semester ended, we had a final goodbye lunch because Elaine was moving. She had brought all the books we had read in our shared class with her. “Do you want these?” Elaine asked me. I had my own copies of the same books, so I said no. Then, she ceremoniously threw the books, one-by-one, into the big trashcan near us. She joyfully sang as she dumped each one, “Goodbye Faulkner, goodbye Salinger, goodbye Melamud, goodbye Conrad.”

My protests did not dissuade her. After Elaine left, I managed to retrieve the books, wipe them off, bring them home, and stack them in the darkest corner of the bedroom I shared with my little sister. They weren’t kid-appropriate; however, a few days later, I found her reading, “A Catcher in the Rye.” She was 10 years old, but she’d already been bitten by the age-blind book bug. She saw a book, so she read it. Last year, an acquaintance called to tell me she was moving into a smaller apartment, and she was getting rid of lots of books. Did I want them? Of course I did. She knew about my Little Free Library and offered to drive by and put the books into it. “Do you want to go through them first?” she asked. Guess what I answered.