So rather than trying to force yourself to read it again, or feeling a twinge of guilt every time you see it, pass it along to someone who’ll really enjoy it. But here’s the thing: not every book is going to be a favorite that you read a dozen times. I used to keep pretty much every book I ever read, thinking that I would read it again someday. It’s Okay to Only Read a Book Once – or Not Even Finish it.
Oh, and if one day you do want to read it, that’s what libraries are for!ģ. So if it’s been sitting on your shelf forever and yet you keep buying or reading other books instead of reaching for it, chances are you won’t actually miss it that much. It just means that it isn’t the right book for you right now. Not finishing a book – or not reading it a second time – doesn’t make you a failure. Give yourself permission to let go of books you haven’t read yet, or that you’ve abandoned partway through. You Don’t Have to Read Every Book you’ve Bought. If you’ve acquired more books than you can possibly read, ask yourself: do you buy most of your books to read them, or do you buy them for the sake of buying them?Ģ. (Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.) There was something about the rush of choosing a new story to read: imagining the ways I’d expand my worldview, all the things I’d learn or feel… unfortunately, way too often the books ended up collecting dust on the shelf. I’ve always been an avid reader, but I used to shop for books like I’d be finishing three of ’em a week. Buying Books and Reading Books are Two Different Hobbies.
(Yep, you read that right – I could lift my entire library with one hand!) And it was thanks to these mindset hacks that I was able to process my emotional attachment and fears, reframe my thinking, and ultimately let them go.ġ. It wasn’t easy, but within a year I was able to pare my collection down to about ten books. But I had a strong sense that I should keep books I hadn’t read… you know… on the off chance I might want to read them one day. As a sentimental sap, I had the urge to keep any book that brought back memories (so, basically any book that I’d ever read). It was as though I was seeing the clutter for the first time in my life – and I didn’t like how it was weighing me down.ĭecluttering my books seemed so much tougher for me than for most people that I talked to. I spent hours trying to organize my mountains of stuff before a wave of overwhelm hit, and I collapsed onto the floor in a full-blown panic attack. If I had to guess, I’d say I had somewhere between 300 and 400 of them.Īfter getting a job in a new city, I packed up all my books (and the rest of my crap, too) into a comically large moving truck – and then unpacked them all into a teeny tiny apartment with basically no storage. – The Da Vinci Code! I think I already have a copy at home, but maybe I’ll pick up another one… you know… just in case I want to lend it to someone.īooks had already taken over my bookshelves, and had started creeping into other areas of my room: the floor of my closet, crammed under my bed, in teetering Jenga-style towers on my desk. But I could be the kind of person who knits, right? – Ooh, a book about knitting! I mean, I’ve never actually touched the knitting needles in my closet. – Wuthering Heights! How can I even call myself a reader if I don’t own any Brontë? As I glided along the aisles, I eagerly snatched up anything that caught my eye: I was (and honestly, still am) a huge book nerd, and the book drive was my favorite event of the year. My arms were shaking from the weight of them – there must have been at least 35 books in all, each purchased for about a buck.
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