Are We Buying Books to Read Them... or Just Collecting Them?

  I have books I haven't read.

Quite a lot of books I haven't read, actually.

Some have been sitting on my shelves for so long that I'm beginning to think they've acquired squatters' rights.

Every so often I look at them and think:

I really must read that.

Then I buy another book.

This has led me to an uncomfortable question.

Do I actually buy books to read them, or have I accidentally started collecting them?

Because I'm beginning to suspect these are two entirely different hobbies.

The TBR Shelf Was Supposed to Be Temporary

TBR, if you've somehow managed to avoid this particular piece of bookish terminology, means:

To Be Read.

Simple enough.

You buy a book you want to read, put it on the TBR shelf, read it and move it onto your proper bookshelf.

That was presumably the original idea.

My TBR shelf, however, appears to operate more like a long-term storage facility.

Books arrive.

Books settle in.

Books make friends.

Books watch newer books arrive and get read before them.

Some of them must be furious.

There's probably a support group happening after I've gone to bed.

"She bought me in 2022."

"That's nothing. I've been here since 2019."

"Did you see her come home with another Richard Osman?"

Outrage.

Why Do We Keep Buying Them?

Because the book I want to read next month and the book I want to read right now aren't necessarily the same thing.

I'll be in a bookshop and see a huge historical novel.

"Oh, that looks fabulous."

Buy it.

Two weeks later I'm ready for my next book.

Do I choose the enormous historical novel?

No.

Apparently I now want a murder mystery.

So I buy one.

Then somebody recommends a brilliant thriller.

Buy that.

Then BookBub sends me something for 99p.

Well, obviously.

Then I see a book on Instagram approximately fourteen times and eventually decide the universe is clearly instructing me to purchase it.

Suddenly the historical novel is six books deep in the queue wondering what happened.

Special Editions Have Made Everything Worse

This is where I think we've stopped pretending it's entirely about reading.

Sprayed edges.

Foil covers.

Exclusive artwork.

Signed editions.

Collector's editions.

Special endpapers.

Hardbacks so beautiful you almost don't want to open them because you might crease something.

Bookshops and publishers know exactly what they're doing.

You already own the book.

But do you own the midnight-blue hardback with gold sprayed edges and an exclusive illustration of the main characters?

No.

You do not.

Well, obviously you need another copy.

Do you?

Absolutely not.

Do you want it?

That's an entirely different question.

Then There's the Kindle Problem

At least physical books have the decency to take up space.

Eventually a bookshelf starts groaning and you receive a visual warning that perhaps things have gone too far.

Kindle books have no such restraint.

You click.

Done.

Another one.

Click.

99p?

Click.

Free?

CLICK.

There is no pile getting taller.

No shelf collapsing.

No family member asking where you're planning to put another 37 books.

They're simply absorbed quietly into the device.

I dread to think how many unread books are lurking on people's Kindles.

Actually, don't look.

Nothing good can come from that information.

Is Having a Huge TBR Really a Problem?

I'm going to say no.

Mostly because I don't want to be a hypocrite.

But also because I rather like having unread books around.

There's something comforting about looking at a shelf and knowing there are stories waiting there that I haven't discovered yet.

It's a little private library.

Fancy something funny?

There's one.

Want a murder?

Several options.

Need to disappear into Tudor England for three days?

Upper shelf, second from the left.

Want a romance?

Got you covered.

It's essentially Netflix without spending forty minutes scrolling through the menu before watching the same programme you've already seen six times.

The only problem comes when the TBR stops feeling exciting and starts feeling like homework.

I should read that.

I need to get through these.

I can't buy another book until I've read ten of these.

No.

Absolutely not.

Books are supposed to be enjoyable.

I'm not putting myself on a reading performance improvement plan.

What About Unhauling Books?

This is another word the internet taught me.

Unhauling.

Basically, going through your shelves and getting rid of books you no longer want.

This sounds sensible.

I have attempted it.

You pick up a book you bought eight years ago and have never read.

"Am I ever actually going to read this?"

No.

Put it in the charity-shop pile.

Then five minutes later:

"But what if I suddenly want to read it?"

Back on the shelf.

Repeat approximately 43 times.

Eventually I have managed to remove three books and somehow feel as though I've achieved something significant.

Worse still, I usually take the unwanted books to a charity shop.

Which contains books.

You can see where this is going.

I donate three.

I come home with five.

This is not decluttering.

It's an exchange programme.

Perhaps Reading and Collecting Books ARE Different Hobbies

I think I've finally accepted this.

I enjoy reading books.

But I also enjoy having books.

I like bookshelves.

I like looking at covers.

I like wandering around bookshops.

I like discovering an old edition of something.

I like knowing that if I suddenly decide at eleven o'clock on a Sunday night that I desperately need to read a Victorian ghost story, there's probably one somewhere in the house.

Some people collect vinyl records.

Some collect stamps.

Some collect shoes.

Book people collect imaginary lives printed on bits of paper and then insist every single one is absolutely necessary.

Seems reasonable to me.

So Am I Going to Stop Buying Books Until I've Read My TBR?

Hahahahahaha.

No.

I've tried the book-buying ban.

It usually goes something like this:

Day One: I have plenty of books. I don't need any more.

Day Three: Look at me being responsible.

Day Five: Technically, a 99p ebook doesn't count.

Day Seven: Library books definitely don't count because I haven't bought them.

Day Nine: This one is reduced from £9.99 to £4.99, so really I've saved £5.

Day Twelve: Book-buying ban quietly abandoned.

I've decided there are worse things I could spend money on.

Will I read every book I own?

Probably not.

Will I continue looking at my unread shelves while simultaneously browsing for new books?

Almost certainly.

And perhaps that's fine.

Because I've realised something important.

I don't have a TBR pile.

I have my own personal library.

That sounds much more respectable.