How it started
TBR acronym To Be Read. 1. A book that is yet to be read. 2. Unread books, often stacked in a pile or stored on a shelf. 3. Books that are lovingly dusted each week yet remain unopened. 4. Books with fresh spines, intact spines, spines not yet cracked. 5. Books you bought when you believed you controlled the space-time continuum, could read all night, and still function in the morning. 6. Books people gave you because they thought, and you thought, you would enjoy them, and perhaps, one day, you will. 7. Books that await your attention.
If you’ve got a TBR pile, chances are you’ve got some feelings about it. Perhaps it excites you, makes you long for that evening or weekend when you can pick a book from it and indulge in the absolute joy of reading. Or, maybe, it brings on feelings of shame or regret or the downside of indulgence – guilt.
It doesn't look like a lot of books, right?
For me, it brings on all of these and a small calculation about how much I’ve spent, which I quickly replace with how much I’ve invested in the work of others, many others. I also have a quid-pro-quo calculation when my husband buys a new surfboard that divides the cost of said board by the average price of a new release book, and this soothes me, immensely.
But earlier this year, my TBR pile (shelves) caused my chest and stomach to constrict, and I couldn’t find any good feelings to replace this sensation. Knowing I’d hit my limit of denial, I decided to do something about it. I set a goal to read at least two books per month, on average, from my TBR pile this year. Then I wondered if other people might be in a similar situation, so I thought I might blog about it along the way.
A simple concept in theory, but it’s the end of May, and while I’ve been reading, the blog bit has been slow. So, it’s time to catch up.
To kick off My TBR Year, I started by gathering all the books in one place.
Collecting
I stacked the books in our dining room, carting them from the shelves in my office, our lounge room, my bedside table and our bedhead. Yes, a bookshelf bedhead! My husband and I were so happy when we bought it, ‘How cool is that!’ we said, smiling at each other with a smug undercurrent. Into that bedhead, I managed to fit a sneaky 20 books, and I’d crammed another ten on the bedside table! Not so cool.
After I let the initial gut wrench of shame wash over me – Why did I buy this many books? What was I thinking? – I looked at the titles and couldn’t stop smiling. What a wonderful year ahead! So many great stories to enjoy, some from people I know. It was like catching up with old friends.
Collating
I’m not sure why I didn’t stack the books in genres; I think I was more concerned with just getting them all in one place. So, I restacked the books into genres, expecting to find more historical fiction than anything else. It turns out that while I am a big fan of historical fiction, I’m also fond of memoirs! I’m not sure how and when this new genre entered my reading life. A post for another day, perhaps?
Confronting
Next, I did something even more confronting than collecting the books; I counted them. Then I opened my e-reader and discovered more unread books. And finally, I checked my audiobooks. That subscription service makes it easy to download a new book each month, but it doesn’t open portals of time for me to listen to them.
In total, I have 157 TBR physical books, 34 e-books and 24 audiobooks. All up, 215 books. This might not be a lot for some people, but for me, it was overwhelming. It was time for a cull. A kind, loving, book-donating cull.
SB
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