It has only taken two years, but I have finally sorted out which of the books I kept from Dad's massive library will be staying and which will be going; hopefully to the council library service. However, two especially noteworthy reflections have presented themselves.
Firstly, it has taken an external influence to get it done - we need the guest room to help put up a friend for a few months until he can find new accommodation. (And there are still thousands of CDs too).
The second thought was a little more disturbing. I have not been able to access most of my books for those two years, as they have been obscured by rows of CDs and boxes of books. I haven't read much in years, and so to see so many good, hardback books in the boxes, and having to decide to let them go, has reminded me a lot of about Dad and my nature. There is every reason to presume that most of them had never been read. Instead they had been bought simply because they looked interesting, on offers in Borders or Waterstones or Amazon. I can't quite say my purchases were made in the same bulk (as I have not had the same bulk of disposable income) but the motivation looks suspiciously similar.
And as a final thought. What did I read, when I read more? Science fiction? Yes, but not seriously for maybe 15 years. Theology? Yes, but mainly as required by the theology degree, and even then my study is full of books I have never read. History? Yes, but only for the purposes of researching alternate histories, geofiction and the like. Which begs the question as to why I don't carry out research in that way anymore . The answer lies in the changes of technology. I live behind a computer screen, arguably too often. Now I look on the internet first, rather than heading into the library and searching contents tables and indices.
There is room for more thought here, methinks.
