The books I kicked out of my house

#40days40books entry 40

It is time to have a stretch. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.

Take another one.
For your health.

Because my home is sacred and it is where I live, I do not have to define my library according to anyone else's standards.

So you won't find ...

... the Song of Ice and Fire books here because I am not inclined to encourage the reading of that messy misogynist garbage.

... the Foundation books either because I don't believe in the good of empires.

... books idolizing the Roman empire (see above)

... Amy Schumer or any of her ilk on account of racism is deadly and I don't support it.

... Paulo Coehlo on account of I outgrew him and also the public library.

... Patrick Rothfuss, Lev Grossman or that sort because I don't have to. I don't have to accept that medieval Europe is the only place for fantasy and I don't have to accept that magicians are more interesting when they fuck or swear - also because get better at writing women. Honestly.

... memoirs. just no.

Some of these were physically removed from my shelves. I felt it - oddly. Not because I was sad to see them go, but because there's something about what a set of shelves is supposed to look like that has existed in my imagination for my entire life.

Representation matters.

I don't have to have Roald Dahl on my shelves and I won't, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the break from Normal or Expected. I don't have to have Robert Heinlein on my shelves, and I don't, but still. Jodi Picoult has never had a place in my home. And she never will.

Bookshelves are medicine cabinets that you are expected to peer into. They can be incredibly informative. They can offer less thoughtful people a way to offend with suggestion or comment about what books should be there that aren't as an opening statement rather than an answer to a question. So the absences are openings for assholes.

This is the not the first time my library has known a purge. The last time was less deliberate and more desperate. Now, it is about finesse and understanding. I am challenged daily by the books in this home to live carefully, artfully, with love and courage. If it is so possible to restructure my books, restructuring my life is also, and again, possible.

So the last book to leave a shelf is me. I hopped my elf self down from the bookstore and cycled away to some other waiting station, a different set of stories. Something a little less ... expected.

Be brave, my readers. Shape your own shelves. Stories are not meant to be funnels, but doors. And we make our own keys.

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