After months of allowing my book collection to languish in my parents’ house, I finally managed to cart 600+ volumes into my future library. Seized by a fit of industry, I devoted the entire night to setting up my beloved books.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4939Rd75K_XdLgYkdTzAnzfNitORq0t0mas-qK-6Gpe4avvl1J_akuWLsnxkXroG9MF4gz0WJB6PIHzXkyQMXPwnp84m6uWz_Qo0kkwzEC0v-7bjPTf79IX2bLQIsQLYUXyd5R4wbjPk/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+002.jpg)
Why did it take so long? Let me walk you through the process.
The dilemma is that there are multiple and contradictory ways to arrange books. Should I organize them by author? Genre? Publication date? Even within these categories it’s not that simple.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-60HAsBDGwnvOSkJ50ygzY2XdsblaDzGYkgDxNs2ImsbEOzmC7barHSO8b5Tn_Z2uzqCNrJshOtT7pAbDXNLqNj6rV3bc33OGjwd9rWmjGgI8ce0lyeGklZR__xeo1uq4lgCPibDZmzI/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+004.jpg)
At the same time, I try to place my books as to highlight the ones that correspond with the image that I want to project.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5QG1z64KY8bAwF2sxhM_A3KYvjiZnnYMvx34S-1JUNWbHfqmx-1_VIiduz7ryr4ipoZOdahhFGhfF9kf7yN8qVBgBP1SLJERsJmPaffh_A9-tZRNay9HdkeMNcsjpmK9FO9e1Ri082Q4/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+005.jpg)
Meanwhile, the books that I’m embarrassed to own (most of which were gifts to my middle- and high school self) are relegated to what I dub the “Shelf of Shame.”
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuU0yIzAvvUAjCr1udRFdLzwAXh6B9cYSI9UgKl-ZLUH8C6Yi0cmPFTaJybNUN2fL9DiKZg1ZeM4L43JphiOOrDgoeq9tbtxxguAncYVZlcnA-vDA1ZRWqZF1M7f3t46_8Jle39SuKzWo/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+008.jpg)
Basically, the more I love a book, the closer to eye level it goes.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzABvUGNTl8Xm5owWSpVSfN0IiO24cXoAg5sZZ-_MOS1OgrFOQejIQRVC8fit93-H1ln7DktdSYONwB2WNcaR4xweFT8CPnjPzo59l6tL384-J2myPFRjlE3FP3whLVn1o4EJ9cgbrnU8/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+011.jpg)
It gets even more complicated, however. What do I do when I adore David Eddings’ Belgariad but hate his The Redemption of Althalus? Does it matter that Belgariad is a set of well-worn paperbacks and Althalus is a gorgeous British-edition hardcover? My affection is complicated.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9g1QcmoWEEk6UWpUYTV0BRcabukuG8MiEMBKiuaZ5dFjeOnSN2I7fGkR6QPwXrIP_T7lxfghyphenhyphenu9ZTcbHGky_3LfVEjgdtsfo5FQNzwlb8x49js4uDL9nY6OFtzh2RRpEZAHklVBKskF4/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+012.jpg)
Difficult decisions having been made, I have nothing left to do... except totally rethink where I wanted to place the shelves in the first place.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeTbv-3n1DTcoEYLs9bJfb8J4zNwhcRy9mI8_58GqBjGb7OWeCWrOAJ89WCpwW7pxYDJDpN3pS9-RxpkRQH6dgC4UGrVUU4YAun9fj7I-PRB8Ac3Zt7A2pcU8ZRlQPHNIoDIRD2eg-Aw/s400/Bookshelf+Setup+015.jpg)
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