2014-10-17

Book Renewal Fetish

This morning I went to the city library to return some books and check out some more. But when I got there, the sign on the door said...CLOSED. Apparently I'd missed the memo that today was the day for the library to sort out its materials. ::sigh::

Throughout my Ph.D. program I constantly had books upon books checked out of the library. During coursework it was for writing my seminar papers, which meant that at the end of finals week I could return most of them and bring down my checked-out books count to a single digit. While writing my dissertation, I constantly had books on hand I needed to read, more books for which to procrastinate on my writing, more books to fill up my desk space (or two). I'd read through them and take notes, or I'd read parts of them, or I'd read none of them and just gaze longingly at their spines—with a promise that I'd read them after I wrapped up whatever draft I was working on.

What I couldn't get enough of was renewing books. All I had to do was log into my account online, click a couple of buttons, and voilà! I could keep all of those books sitting on my desk for another six months! (Was it? I forget.) It was like proof that I was working: Look at all these books I have checked out! I must be making progress on my dissertation!

Yeah, right. When I moved to Japan I didn't bring that many books, knowing my stay here was temporary. And now I have this lovely office with (count 'em) EIGHT floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and I only have a handful of books sitting on them. Nowadays I check out just as many (or more) books than I did as a grad student, but I actually read them all, and I read them a lot faster.

I'm taking up a "no renewal" policy, kids. No more clicking online buttons for me. I check out the books I need, take down the notes that are useful, and return those puppies to their homes. I feel a lot more efficient, and I feel better (in my own little world) that if there are others who need the books, then they don't have to wait a long time to get to them. It's like a strange form of "recycle, reduce, reuse"—it's up to you! Even if my bookshelves do feel a little lonely.

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