|
 |
|
|
|
I recently pulled all my books from their bookshelves and piled them about my living room floor, inspired for a massive re–org project. I wanted my hundreds of books arranged by color. Besides feeling stifled by the rules of Dewey Decimal order, and looking forward to the aesthetic delight of a new arrangement, there was another more philosophical reason for the project at hand. I had begun to feel that my theologians needed to parley with poets; my novelists ought to chat with psychologists; my scientists would do well to mingle with artists; and my Bibles certainly needed to be in conversation with everyone. When my books are segregated by mere subject, I suspect they have a bent to be rather pretentious: holding long–winded conversations, arguing the same assumptions, and wearing out the same terms. William James was supposed to have said that some people think they are thinking when really they are just re-arranging their prejudices. I was determined to hold my books accountable to thinking beyond their prejudices: it was time to mix things up and break up any cliques happening on my library shelves.
So, I sat on my leopard print footstool late into the night drinking tea, inspecting spines, and making careful selections to remedy the situation with a colorful flair. The task was not easy, mind you. But, soon, disheveled groupings of books slowly began to emerge: tangerines, merlots, sea-foam greens, rugged goldens. Particularly subtle shades almost stymied the project. Where to put the zesty tomato reds? With the merlots or the tangerines? These were the dilemmas I faced sorting into the wee hours of the night. I now suspect that the project, beyond its philosophical underpinnings, might have also been harnessing my obsessive–compulsive zeal. I admit, my personality pairs well with any kind of sorting and pondering and moving objects about in a very small circle of space, arranging my world just so. (Does anyone else find alphabetizing their canned beans or sorting out the toolbox to be entirely gratifying? Or am I all alone here?)
Suffice it to say that fueled by the joys of creativity and compulsivity, my new library came together, spine by spine, like an impressionist canvass. I stood back and took in the beauty of the painting. The tangerines gave a needed splash of zest; the merlots offered a sort of a mature, regal presence; the blues were few but captivating; and the strong showing of blacks and charcoals seemed to ground the piece. But beyond the appeal of lovely hues, it gave me great pleasure that my books had journeyed beyond the narrow confines of a Dewey Decimal style assortment. When Locke only talks to Rousseau, he begins to forget that Dostoevsky might also have something to contribute to the discussion of freedom. Or when my Bible only mingles with modernist types, I am prone to forget why Jesus liked teaching about God through stories, not science labs. Or when I study biology through my weighty textbooks, I would be amiss to not also let the poets speak to the wonders of DNA and salamanders and solar systems. All in all, I was most content with my labors, and could put my head on the pillow at 2:00 a.m. dreaming of how much my books would be getting acquainted with their new friends.
Since the re-org, when people come over to my home for the first time, they will sit down in my living room, and predictably exclaim about 7 minutes later, “Your books are arranged by color!” This is always pleasing to me, because then whatever we were talking about, now we get to talk about my books. And like the typical bibliophile, if we are talking about my book collection, I am happy. Often, the delightful game ensues where people like to find the books that make the most curious neighbors. Well, isn’t this funny, they say, Dr. Dobson is right next to Gloria Steinem! (That would be a good debate.) Dr. Seuss next to Wordsworth? (Both poets in their own right, I remind them.) The Book of Common Prayer gets placed next to Celebration of Sex? (Gasp! Is that sacrilegious?) All these wonderful observations have naturally lead to fascinating conversations in my living room over many cups of tea. And the books remind us, when we forget, that who our neighbors are matter. If we only want to sit on the shelf next to the people who want to talk and think and categorize like us, life will be in order, but it won’t be nearly as colorful.
|
Hmmmmmm I get it , allegorical right? Well I guess anything to start up a conversation is a good thing, but I have to say as an admitted bibliophile it would drive me crazy to have books arraigned by color, besides is that not what we did in the world divide people up by color? Hmmmmmmmm seems kinda allegorical.
How daring! I love it. Shake things up. Break out of the norm. I could see myself up until the wee hours of the morning doing the same thing. It is also a true reminder of how much time we spend with those who are just like us, who rehash the same things over and over in the same words, without lookig at a different perspective, a different take. You go girl!
I once read, "The purpose of literature is to learn that other people exist." This is a beautiful notion that you present: that not just the contents of a work can expand the understanding of "the other" but the relationships between books continue the process of illumination. It's not simply the ideas, but the space between them, that relationship that springs forth, the tension, the friction, the displacement. Life seems to operate in this realm, in the gritty between where elusive ideals are never quite reconciled. Kim George, you have build a vibrant model of this system that fits snugly on a bookshelf. Cheers
Kim--I was so delighted and inspired by the beauty and comforting feeling of your arrangement when I saw it with my own eyes. Hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna steal the idea for a trial run (you know, "great poets" and all that) when I move into my new place in a few weeks!
-G
i kinda like this idea, but i do wonder how difficult it is to find a particular book when you don't remember the color of it's spine. :)
How often do we fail to put things in a new way? How often do we continue to categorize the things in our life by topic instead of the rainbow of colours which God has given us? When we put ourselves together by topic, we will continue to discriminate, we will continue on the path we have always trod.
Ok - that's perfect! Not only is the abstract concept behind the reorganization wonderful, but the practical side is also great for those of us who forget authors and titles, but remember the book we're looking for is purple! Susan
|
|
|
|
(8)
Hmmmmmm I get it , allegorical right? Well I guess anything to start up a conversation is a good thing, but I have to say as an admitted bibliophile it would drive me crazy to have books arraigned by color, besides is that not what we did in the world divide people up by color? Hmmmmmmmm seems kinda allegorical. Posted by nemo | Posted at 02/09/2008 3:43 AM
How daring! I love it. Shake things up. Break out of the norm. I could see myself up until the wee hours of the morning doing the same thing. It is also a true reminder of how much time we spend with those who are just like us, who rehash the same things over and over in the same words, without lookig at a different perspective, a different take. You go girl! Posted by Dennis | Posted at 02/09/2008 8:26 AM
I once read, "The purpose of literature is to learn that other people exist." This is a beautiful notion that you present: that not just the contents of a work can expand the understanding of "the other" but the relationships between books continue the process of illumination. It's not simply the ideas, but the space between them, that relationship that springs forth, the tension, the friction, the displacement. Life seems to operate in this realm, in the gritty between where elusive ideals are never quite reconciled. Kim George, you have build a vibrant model of this system that fits snugly on a bookshelf. Cheers Posted by next2 | Posted at 02/09/2008 8:17 PM
Kim--I was so delighted and inspired by the beauty and comforting feeling of your arrangement when I saw it with my own eyes. Hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna steal the idea for a trial run (you know, "great poets" and all that) when I move into my new place in a few weeks!
-G
Posted by Grete | Posted at 02/11/2008 4:12 PMi kinda like this idea, but i do wonder how difficult it is to find a particular book when you don't remember the color of it's spine. :) Posted by linda Jamentz | Posted at 02/11/2008 6:07 PM
How often do we fail to put things in a new way? How often do we continue to categorize the things in our life by topic instead of the rainbow of colours which God has given us? When we put ourselves together by topic, we will continue to discriminate, we will continue on the path we have always trod. Posted by Matt | Posted at 02/12/2008 8:17 AM
Ok - that's perfect! Not only is the abstract concept behind the reorganization wonderful, but the practical side is also great for those of us who forget authors and titles, but remember the book we're looking for is purple! Susan Posted by Susan | Posted at 02/19/2008 10:55 AM