My Ideal Bookshelf
All my life, reading has been a private pastime for me. It’s something I do in solitary moments – in airplane lounges, on the subway, before going to bed – and until recently it was something I didn’t say much about beyond book club observations and the occasional “you have to read this” email to my Mom.
But now of course I’ve changed that – writing at length here about what I read, where I read it, and how it impacts the way I view the world around me. I’ve made reading my “thing.” And the great thing about having a thing is that people start sending you links, tips, and information about stuff you might be interested in. When I roamed South Africa, for instance, a stranger from Johannesburg reached out with suggestions for successfully navigating Collector’s Treasury. When that crazy (faux) library opened in China a few months ago, I got a dozen Instagram and Facebook messages about it. And anytime a book about books (a hilariously self-referential publishing niche if ever there was one) is reviewed, I get newspaper clippings from my family about it. This fun world of “I thought you might like…” is how I found out about My Ideal Bookshelf, a book detailing the dream bookshelves of dozens of writers, thinkers, artists, chefs, and more. Basically, if you ever wondered what books David Chang stores in his restaurant bathroom, wonder no more.
A warning up front: My Ideal Bookshelf is an extremely dangerous book to read if you’re on a budget. It completely upended my plan to spend less on books in 2018 and prompted a torrent of Amazon orders (to my mail carrier – I’m so sorry!) Upon seeing the same book pop up on three or four contributors’ shelves, I’d convince myself I had to have it. This is how I ended up with the collected stories of Lydia Davis, an anthology of Derek Walcott poetry, and a book of Diane Arbus photographs.
Just as many of the writers in Double Bind debated the definition of ambition, many of the people interviewed for My Ideal Bookshelf grappled with the question of what exactly constitutes an ideal bookshelf. Some chose books based on spine design, others picked the books they refer to most often, still more made greatest hits lists or selected books they would want with them on a desert island. Many gravitated to books that corresponded with their careers – chefs chose cookbooks, designers chose design books, and writers chose Strunk and White. A few described the ask as an impossible choice. As John Jeremiah Sullivan opined, “when I start thinking about all I’m leaving out, I get a drowning feeling.” George Saunders put it brilliantly by writing, “Forget any pedantic bullshit, forget trying to make my list look smarter than everybody else’s - what books would I actually get off on?” Below is a selection of some particularly imaginative and idiosyncratic things people get off on, apparently:
- Francine Prose chose only books by Chekhov
- David Sedaris chose four books by Tobias Wolff and two by Richard Yates
- Musician Nadia Sirota said that her first instinct was to pick 14 copies of Cintra Wilson’s Colors Insulting to Nature, a “book you can read alone on the train and pee yourself laughing at.”
- Ayelet Waldman included a book by her husband, Michael Chabon
- Thurston Moore included a book by Henry Miller that he hadn’t even read, saying “Most of the books that I have in my library are unread. A lot of them are almost like pieces of art, sort of tactile – I pick them up, touch them and look at them, and get vibrations from them.”
- Photographer Todd Hido included three books about which he wrote: “I don’t think I’ve read more than a page of any of them. They’re there purely for the possibilities they represent.”
Another theme that courses throughout My Ideal Bookshelf is the value of books as physical objects. With few exceptions, contributors to this book are Kindle-free folks who love the tactile experience of engaging something they can hold in their hands, arrange, display, and revel in:
“A book is tangible evidence of a life. And I love what books add to a physical environment: they give a room depth and texture, as well as good karma, I think. Books seep into the atmosphere of a room.”
“The bookshelf represents the span of our attentions and affections.”
“Books are markers for ideas that I’m interested in. That’s why it’s so important to have physical books. When I see my bookshelf expanding, it gives me the illusion that my brain is expanding, too.”
“A room is not a room without books. I love the tactile quality of reaching for a book and being transported to somewhere else for an hour or even a second.”
As inspiring as it was to pore over the references, influences, and touchstones of some of my favorite writers, reading My Ideal Bookshelf also heightened my awareness, almost to the point of anxiety, of how many great books there are to read and how impossible it is to find time for them all. I found myself reading this book with my phone in hand, going down endless Internet rabbit holes investigating authors, writers, and novels I was previously unaware of. I now know who Hilton Als is. I now know about Roberto Bolano. I now know, as never before, of all that I don’t know. It’s thrilling, and painful too. But, as Roseanne Cash said, “I think books find their way to you when you need them. Whenever I feel like I’m not going to live to read all the books I want to read, I remind myself that the important ones find their way to me.”