983
Today my siblings and I trooped around the house and counted books, while I catalogued titles I wasn't embarrassed to own (How To Be A Hepburn in a Hilton World? I really don't want to admit I own this). This included dictionaries, Bibles, atlases, and only a few of my father's medical texts.
Out of the 983 books in my house, I own 582. That's a bit less than 60% of all the books, and I'm surprised it isn't more. I've managed to work up quite a collection, and it almost makes me itch knowing that I just need 17 more to make it an even 1,000.
Going through all of them was a mixed bag of emotions-I revisited books I absolutely loved in high school (Great Expectations, Cry, The Beloved Country, That Summer), college (David Copperfield, King Solomon's Mines, Fifth Chinese Daughter), and some recent favorites (You Can Never Find A Rickshaw When It Monsoons, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Sharp Teeth). I found books I didn't know I had, I found the eight matching Virginia Woolf books that one of my sophomore year professors insisted we all buy, I found a small squadron of Penguin classics. I found beat up books and books in glorious condition, and I sheepishly added more that I found thrown around my bed. I found ones with not-so-good memories, and I found ones that made me smile.
I know that books make up a huge chunk of my life. For a while, I was really determined to go on career-wise without them, but I can't. My mind won't let me. I feel like I have to embrace it rather than squirrel it away. I'm pretty sure this means I have to pick up carpentry and study for the GRE, and frankly? I'm excited.
Out of the 983 books in my house, I own 582. That's a bit less than 60% of all the books, and I'm surprised it isn't more. I've managed to work up quite a collection, and it almost makes me itch knowing that I just need 17 more to make it an even 1,000.
Going through all of them was a mixed bag of emotions-I revisited books I absolutely loved in high school (Great Expectations, Cry, The Beloved Country, That Summer), college (David Copperfield, King Solomon's Mines, Fifth Chinese Daughter), and some recent favorites (You Can Never Find A Rickshaw When It Monsoons, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Sharp Teeth). I found books I didn't know I had, I found the eight matching Virginia Woolf books that one of my sophomore year professors insisted we all buy, I found a small squadron of Penguin classics. I found beat up books and books in glorious condition, and I sheepishly added more that I found thrown around my bed. I found ones with not-so-good memories, and I found ones that made me smile.
I know that books make up a huge chunk of my life. For a while, I was really determined to go on career-wise without them, but I can't. My mind won't let me. I feel like I have to embrace it rather than squirrel it away. I'm pretty sure this means I have to pick up carpentry and study for the GRE, and frankly? I'm excited.