Book Collecting

I’ve collected several books over the years — ones I’ve read and cherished, and others I’ve gathered for this atrocious bibliophilic hobby. But lately, my eyes have open wide and long to witness the frame of a cluttered life.

Picture this: a minimalist having a collection of books that offer no fun. Something that reaps no value, no joy, no excitement. Rather, it is silently accumulating space, or worse, gathering dust on the shelf. Books are meant to be read. And if it is read, it has fulfilled its purpose. If they’re worth revisiting, so be it — but how often does that really happen?

In a world where there are a multitude of options, I have reached a point of reason. A steady realisation that collecting for the sake of ownership is no longer enough. It feels like a race – maybe against others or maybe against oneself. Maybe it is me, maybe it is the greedy heart driven by a deep and unrelenting passion of art.

I pick up old novels I read years ago — those supposedly philosophical, self-improving, and healing works, disguised as pure entertainment. Mental note to self: No more of these.

I remember a particular lazy sunday from a dozens of sundays, where I perch on the floor and sort the paperbacks. The excitement of cataloguing, or lack thereof. This desire to turn pages and finish the unfinished business is immeasurable. It is like buying lost time.

After a through inspection of my shelf, I faced an undeniable truth. a man’s books is his mindset. Seneca said it best: The importance of picking the right books and authors matters, because the quality of the books you read directly impacts your character and wisdom. In the same breath, here’s a paradox: I wouldn’t have come across the brilliant stoicness of Seneca, if I had not explored the seas of option. The idea is to explore, nourish, and appreciate art.

After collecting over hundred books over the past few years, I have decided to part ways with most of the books, or rather exchange them for (better?) alternatives. I’ll focus on works by authors who have shaped my mind — writers like Dostoevsky, Kafka, Wilde, Poe, Austen, Shakespeare, and even contemporary voices like King, Murakami, or even Roy. These are the voices that resonate, that stay with me.

Meanwhile, I will read widely, but for the sake of collecting them, I will not. I will read something novel, something fresh, something that refreshes and transforms the mind.