The Confessions of a Serial Book Buyer

Books. The look of them, the smell of them, the intricate cover designs tailored to each story, the feel of embossed, glittering lettering on the front… One could say I have an unhealthy attachment to them.

I see books and I want more. I read a book and I want more. I get recommended a book and I must buy it. It doesn’t matter if a new book is destined to sit on my shelves for a year until I get around to reading it. I would rather tolerate the constant paranoia surrounding having dozens of books to get through than the helpless feeling of having nothing to read at all. Of course, I am lucky enough that having nothing to read could never be a reality, considering I own enough books I enjoyed the first time around that being able to read them again would be far from torture.

So, what I truly fear is having nothing new to read. That is the feeling that tortures me. As someone who has a long list of books they would like to get to in the near future (let alone in my lifetime), I struggle to go back and read books unless I really, really loved them, especially if they were quite long. I enjoy reading stories that are new to me to experience how different authors approach the craft of storytelling but admittedly, it can be an expensive habit.

Since I was probably around twelve or thirteen, I have spent both most of the money I have received and a lot of space on gift wish lists on books. My friends and family are aware of my weakness and rather than leaving me to my own devices, often enable me. They buy me pretty books that I have admired from afar or books from my favourite genres that they know I will love and of course it feeds my addiction. The cycle goes something like this: someone buys me a pretty book, I become obsessed with said pretty book and then I want to surround the book with others just like it. It may sound as if I am implying other people are to blame for my book-buying habit, but I’m well aware that the issue stems from me. Often boredom leads me to go through my shelves and gaze at all the unread books that serve no purpose other than to adorn my surroundings until they are read. Constantly being able to see these books makes me long for new books to purchase and add to my ever-growing collection.

I should clarify that to me buying books is a hobby entirely separate from reading them. Buying multiple books is almost like collecting jewellery or art. If you only use libraries for books, invest in audiobook services, or even read mainly eBooks, what you care for may be the story alone, and owning the book is not important. If you buy a lot of books, you are looking for decorations alongside stories. I don’t know if it is a means of having proof that you like to read but it arguably functions that way. You know that you will most likely keep a book, add it to a shelf, and find comfort in its presence among your collection. Of course, you will read it (eventually), but buying multiple books when you already have something to read is purely an aesthetic endeavour and technically, there is nothing wrong with that (or is there?). Books have unique covers for a reason and if there were no way to distinguish between one book and the next, if there were no value in the way a book was presented, then buying them would no longer be worth it.

To me, books signify comfort. A house is not a home and a room is not a safe place unless it contains books, at least a dozen. This is coming from someone who has a shelf stacked to the ceiling with books right above her bed. Not once have I feared it would fall on me (though I probably should). Growing up, my parents constantly encouraged my siblings and me to read, though this changed when my enjoyment became too expensive. Before this, their floor to ceiling bookshelf was the inspiration for my brother and me to fill the much smaller one we shared with books we liked.

I think this is also why I enjoy buying books for my friends. To me it says, ‘here, have this beautiful piece of comfort’. I get the same feeling when I receive them too. I attach a lot of sentimental value to objects, but to be able to associate a whole story with the person who gave it to me warms my cold heart and conveniently allows me to be grateful and pretend that I don’t obviously have a problem. Now that I’ve tried to legitimise my book buying habit by blaming it on being a sentimentalist (borderline hoarder), I should look on the other side, where my habit that so many others share becomes an issue.
Rather than being a cute form of decoration or a method to expand my mind, it could just be capitalist brainwashing making me feel like I must constantly purchase new things. Book buying could satisfy the consumerist compulsion to spend money for goods to gain short term gratification. I’m definitely guilty of buying books when I’m bored or feel the need to have something arrive in the post. Instead of decorations, I could just be searching for ownership by buying and keeping books. It’s not the wisest way to spend my money. At least I could previously explain the number of books I bought with a degree that strongly suggested it, but now I no longer have an excuse.

For environmental and economic reasons, I know this is a habit I should try to kick and I plan to make an effort not to keep buying physical copies of books like it’s the only existing method for the consumption of literature. When you barely read plot summaries before purchasing a book, you should probably reevaluate your approach, but truly, buying a book just for its cover is a separate issue that I may have to tackle in a future post.