I read a blog that resonates what I am feeling on a monthly (if not, daily basis), I pasted it here in tribute as my sounding board:
As of this moment I own 78 crime fiction books and 61 books from a range of other genres that I haven’t read. There’s a tall pile of books borrowed from friends in the corner and I also have seven bookmooch requests making their way to me across the seas, am expecting two books I bought online to arrive in a week or so and several ARC books are due any day. Despite this embarrassment of riches (that’s more books than I will read in the next 12 months) I came home with these books yesterday.
I can, of course, justify my purchases because the books were extraordinarily cheap (new books for $5 is almost unheard of here in Oz and having books of quality at that price is something I’ve never seen before) and all were titles or authors I’m interested in.
But even I, master of the righteous justification, can’t claim that I needed them.
I have started to feel troubled about this propensity to acquire more than I can use. Isn’t that the very thing that, on a collective scale, has been partly responsible for the current global financial crisis? I know for a fact that rampant consumerism is having a detrimental impact on our fragile planet but even the guilt that knowledge engenders in me doesn’t stop me acquiring more books than I can read.
I know I’m not alone. In a recent discussion on the 4 Mystery Addicts reading group many members discussed their TBR piles containing hundreds of books and several admitted to having thousands of unread books. Are we all just plain greedy? I find it and odd trait in myself as I’m not naturally acquisitive. I don’t own loads of clothes or shoes or houses and am the opposite of a hoarder. I like my life as de-cluttered as possible. But I can’t seem to stop acquiring books.
Nor, it seems, can I stop worrying about the fact that I am acquiring too many books.