The problem with books and moving

I have lived in exactly ten houses and in two different countries so far in my life and I’m about to move again pretty soon – houses, not countries. And one of the most frustrating things about not having a place to call your own is not being able to have a place to keep your books – because books are, let’s be honest, quite heavy.

If you’re a reader like me you know that no electronic device or medium can take the place of a good old-fashioned, sweet-smelling piece of magic that is a physical book. And ever since I was a kid I’ve wanted to have a library of my own. But it’s more than two decades later and I still don’t seem any closer to acquiring one.

Last month I bought a bookshelf. A small, three-tier mahogany bookshelf. And I filled it with books. Most of these books I had already read, but these were the ones that made such an impression on me that having them only as ebooks was comparable to being content with just a picture of your friend instead of the actual person. After a month I moved again – don’t get me wrong, this is no hobby of mine – and had to sell most of my furniture, except this bookshelf and the books, and a lovely beanbag chair to go with it.

My thoughts?

Don’t let the unpredictability of life keep you from having a physical library of your own, however small that library may have to be. Make sure that your collection of books is comprehensive yet relevant enough so that even in just three tiers’ worth of space, you can carry around with you a small piece of yourself that will stay familiar and comfortable no matter how many strange places you will have to call home.

And a beanbag chair wouldn’t hurt.