Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories*

Hello from daughter #2! I am checking in today to share a bit from our new home in the midwest. We have been here for nearly 3 months, and I think that is fairly represented in the state of our unpacking. We have been entirely functional for quite some time, we have purchased a few vintage/antique “scores” for new spaces we have in this house, and we have hung up some artwork — albeit, mostly in existing holes in the walls. The basement, however, is still hiding dozens of half-packed boxes.

One of the biggest undertakings has been the gargantuan task of unpacking our book collection. DN and I had lived in two apartments and a house together before moving to this home, which means we have packed and unpacked (or stored) books numerous times. DN brought boxes that had been packed for 10 years!

“I am unpacking my library. Yes, I am. The books are not yet on the shelves, not yet touched by the mild boredom of order. . . .I must ask you to join me in the disorder of crates that have been wrenched open, the air saturated with the dust of wood, the floor covered with torn paper, to join me among piles of volumes that are seeing daylight again after two years of darkness, so that you may be ready to share with a bit of the mood–it is certainly not an elegiac mood but, rather, one of anticipation–which these books arouse in the genuine collector.”

Walter Benjamin, “Unpacking My Library”

Yes, there was a satisfying anticipation to seeing the collection spread out all together on our dining room floor — I was happy to remember all that we have, and consider how we might sort things, and arrange them in various places, and decide what I might re-read next. The project also revealed, in a satisfying way, all that could be sorted out of the collection: mostly those books I never liked in the first place, but held onto for some feeling of what I should have or might need as a “literary scholar.” How freeing to simply keep the books I like!

Fun fact: all these years collecting together account for five copies of Mrs. Dalloway and six copies of Moby-Dick, none of which we would really consider giving away. There’s the first copy of Moby-Dick I ever read, the copy I purchased in Ireland to re-read, the copy I gave to DN the first Christmas after I met him, at least one desk copy, a new Norton Critical Edition that was sent to me, and a Rockwell Kent illustrated edition that my mother gave me. I recall once babysitting children at their grandparents’ house, where the man had an entire (full) bookcase dedicated to editions of Moby-Dick. He also had a pond with koi named Moby and Dick. Oh, how I can now relate!

This project is not yet complete, but it is satisfying to see the built-in bookshelves in our family room nearly full with books (and yes, a few toys).

*Walter Benjamin, from the same essay