Sad Truth of the TBR

“The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.” - Joseph Joubert. Truth.

Exactly one year ago, I wrote about my various TBR piles here, and the fact that their sheer volume pressure me daily to read more, faster.  Last year I read more books than ever before and I am on track to best that number this year so I felt I should check back with the piles to see if things had changed.  Here there are and all I can say is that they have grown.  Ugh.

This is still my main shelf, and it is easy to see that more books have been added than removed.

My husband tried to reinforce the bowing shelves with wood stilts but the books are still winning.

Last year I considered this my more immediate TBR pile, but since they are mostly the same books I would say that description is now inaccurate.

Last year this last picture was of my stack of library books, but this year it has been replaced with loans from friends.

Seeing the piles a year later I have come to some conclusions about the way I actually read and I am not sure I really like it.

My personal shelves are full of books that I ran out and bought as soon as I knew about them and knew that they were something that I HAD to read.  These are books that I know I will love, that I know I need to be surrounded by, the cream-de-la-cream.  I also have a list of books to get from the library.  These are books that I also know I need to read but that I am not sure I need to HAVE.  Not sure I will need to look at them and be reminded of a great character or a great line.  Not sure they will bring me comfort.  So I give them my undivided attention, and then give them back, but they are only one step away from a permanant spot on the shelf. Lastly, I have a stack (actually they fill a bag) of books lent to me by friends.  The people who I love, who usually know me well enough to lend me books that I will enjoy.  The problem here is that I feel the need to read them promptly and return them along with feedback. 

All of these stacks are wonderful treasures but my reading of them seems to be a bit backwards.  Instead of reading the things I am really excited about I read the friends’ and library books first because of their built in self-destruct mechanisms (ie: due dates, and manners), before finally getting back to the things I am just DYING to read.  As I have wonderful friends and a spectacular library, I get to my shelves very rarely, and the piles only grow.  That is a very sad TRUTH.