This is my mom's:
This is my dad's:
This is my uncle's:
I love being surrounded by books. I love reading them and holding them, and I love having them next to me when I sleep.
I think the reason that I like having them so close to my bed is because I hope that some sort of osmosis will occur during the night. There is just not enough time to read everything I want to; absorption seems like the only solution. Even in rooms where I have not had a nightstand, there has always been a toppling pile of books on my floor.
The sad reality that I will never be able to read all that I want hits me every time I walk into a bookstore. I become simultaneously excited and stressed: excited because of all the intriguing titles - both new ones and classics - and stressed because I know that in reality I will probably never read more than just the titles.
So somehow, having a collection of books close to my head for long periods of time creates the hope (the illusion?) that even if I do not get to read every page, those pages will still become a part of me. I hesitate to put those books back on the shelf because it feels like releasing them from active duty and admitting defeat - even if I have not turned some of their pages in months.
Another advantage of a nightstand full of books is the comfort of having a wealth of human stories, wisdom and experience at just an arm's length away. I can lay in bed and grab the biography of Eleanor Roosevelt for a quick fix of inspiration or Fault Lines for a momentary trip back to South Africa.
When the nightstand does not get cleared off for months or years at a time (see exhibit #4, above), it becomes a story in and of itself. It is the story of the reader's curiosities. It is a record of what they have been learning about and thinking about and what stories they have been privy too. If you could see all the titles of the books on my and on my parents' and on my uncle's nightstands, you would learn a lot about us.
Another advantage of a nightstand full of books is the comfort of having a wealth of human stories, wisdom and experience at just an arm's length away. I can lay in bed and grab the biography of Eleanor Roosevelt for a quick fix of inspiration or Fault Lines for a momentary trip back to South Africa.
When the nightstand does not get cleared off for months or years at a time (see exhibit #4, above), it becomes a story in and of itself. It is the story of the reader's curiosities. It is a record of what they have been learning about and thinking about and what stories they have been privy too. If you could see all the titles of the books on my and on my parents' and on my uncle's nightstands, you would learn a lot about us.
In analyzing my nightstand - besides the immediate implications of titles like Be Honest, You're Just Not That Into Him Either and Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy and The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down - I have begun to accept that maybe it is ok not to read all my books all the way through (or even to internalize all of them while I sleep). I can interact with books in many different ways. The collection itself tells me something about my goals and values and preferences and interests and desires.
And right now my primary desire is to read more.
