By Claire Booth
Let me confess this right
upfront. I own a lot of books. I am actively looking for another bookcase. I
dream that one day I will live somewhere with ceilings tall enough to
necessitate one of those rolling ladders to get to the top shelves.
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| Someday . . . Photo credit:Stairwayshop.com |
So I had definite opinions when I
heard about Marie Kondo’s stance on books. The author of The Life-Changing
Magic of Tidying Up maintains that if an item doesn’t "spark joy," you should
get rid of it. The book was very successful on its own, but since her Netflix
show started streaming at the beginning of this month, she’s become a cultural juggernaut.
I didn’t take much notice of this
until her stance on books hit my social media feeds. Kondo advocates keeping only
those books that spark joy or will be beneficial to your life going forward; otherwise,
get rid of them.
And boy, were people pissed off. Granted,
many of those I know are writers and passionately in love with books, so their
response wasn’t surprising. But the outrage extended even further. People of
all sorts were highly offended at the thought of someone telling them they
should keep only a chosen few volumes.
In fairness, Kondo isn’t quite as
draconian as that. She didn’t make the guy in Episode 5 get rid of his copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird, even though he’d read it countless times. She encouraged
the keeping of anything that provoked that kind of special "joy."
But then she said something that
I’ve been mulling over ever since.
"Books are the reflection of our
thoughts and values."
This statement can be seen in two
different ways. The first, and the way I think she meant it, is that what’s on
your bookshelves should reflect you. It should match who you are as a person.
"So by tidying books, it will
show you what kind of information is important to you at this moment," Kondo says
to the couple she’s helping in Episode 5.
So in essence, someone looking at
your bookshelves should be able to tell that right now you’re an
Atkins-dieting, sci-fi-reading father of a toddler? Or a Sudoku-solving reader
of Regency romances who’s taking an accounting class?
That might be completely
accurate, but good grief, how completely limiting. Shouldn’t your books be more
than who you are?
I think the best book collections
are the opposite of a reflection; they contain ideas that don't just echo our
own opinions or knowledge, but rather push us outside our comfort zones—whether
in the setting, the genre, the subject matter, the author’s cultural or ethnic
background, the political viewpoint, or countless other aspects. The thing
I hope people can tell about me if they look at my bookshelves is that I’m
curious about the world.
The second way Kondo’s reflection
statement can be interpreted has a broader and deeper meaning. I don’t think
this interpretation is what she meant, and I think it’s where she misses the mark.
Books are a reflection of the
value placed on reading.
Books, of any kind, show that value
is placed in the written word and the knowledge that imparts.
Having books in a home—enough books
where they are a presence, not an afterthought—means that everyone who lives in
that home is exposed to that value. Every time they walk by that bookshelf.
This is particularly true with
children. Rigorous studies have shown repeatedly that kids who live in homes
with books, and who are read to consistently, do better in school and enjoy
learning more. That doesn’t mean you need the dream library with the ladder. If
you only have the room or the budget for a rotating stack of ten from the
library, that’s great. It’s still showing that the value of books is both
individual and aggregate. And that both are precious.
