Commentary by Astrid Galactic
Come on, admit. Don't you hate it when you can't remember whether or not you've read some book? It's not just an age thing. There's just too much in life to try to remember.
On more than one occasion, I've gotten deep into a book only to realize that I've already read the thing before. Sometimes it was worth another read and other times I got pissed at myself for wasting my time on reading this piece of crap again. Many, many years ago I developed a little notation system that I would put in my books to let me know if I've already read it. I always put my name in the front of the book. Once complete, I then put a tiny little dot next to my name. Strangely enough, it feels ever so satisfying to dot off that book when complete. It's been such a wonderful trick that helps me keep organized in my reading world. Even stacking bookcases after another move is easier when I can see which books can be stocked towards the back or in other hard to reach places in favor of the unread books getting an easier to reach location.
Since then, I've reached a critical point in my life that I have had to come to terms with. That's to finally allow myself to get rid of some of my books. (No! For shame!) You have to realize that this is a monumental step for me. My books have always been some of my most prized possessions. They are my children and my pride and joy, even my used tattered up books which bring me so much joy. It was that TV show Strange Inheritances that finally did it. The show is actually pretty good and features all of these spectacular inheritances that loved ones know are of great value but can't maintain. Besides me just not having the space anymore, I had to face the fact that when I die, the odds were pretty good that too many of my books would probably end up in a trash can or given to some charity shop that too would tend to trash too many of them. (I've learned that many of these type places, as well as institutions, often trash items that are donated to them which totally unnerves me.) I've come to accept that my personal library will still exist but just won't live together anymore if I take steps now to work on finding good homes to other book lovers. Boy, are those little dots coming in handy now! Of course, many especially loved books I'll still keep.
With that all said, this is exactly what led me to Goodreads. Now that some of my books are finding new homes, I have no way of remembering what I've read when my mind won't do it for me. At Goodreads, I can make an attempt at listing what I've read. (Not that I can even recall most of them!) Well, one thing led to another and here I am.
For what it's worth, this is what sparked this diatribe. Don't feel bad. You aren't losing your mind.
"Why We Forget Most of the Books We Read"
Astrid Galactic
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