On Rearranging My Bookshelves

I rearrange my bookshelves on a regular but random basis, waiting for the proper mood to strike when I have 4 hours to spend or something pressing to avoid.  

It may be due, in part, to the fact that in between rearrangement-sessions, I allow everything (my organizational system) to fall into utter chaos. When books come into my house, they find themselves spread across various stacks, sometimes on the porch, the dining room table, the desk, my side table – there seems to be no end to their potential temporary homes. A table that I pulled out for people to eat on at Christmas (nobody did, they milled around with snack plates, which was much preferable) resides by the front door and accumulates the bulk of new residents. I wish I were the kind of person who put them where they needed to be right away, and that they slotted perfectly into their new homes each time, but I’m not. 

Another reason that this chaos happens: I’m much more likely to read the book that’s hanging sideways off of the coffee table than the one resting, quietly, on the bookshelf. There’s something charming about it. One could even say roguish. 

Further, I’m a mood reader. My shelves are not, in fact, mood-based, and I have yet to figure out a way to make that happen. Maybe then I would be more on top of it. I am typically reading between two and seven books at once with varying degrees of consistency, though when I get on a run of completing books, it feels incredibly satisfying. (Plus, I can gauge how compelling a book is for me based on whether or not or how many other books I wedge in between reading sessions. Recently, some books that I’ve had to read all the way through are Babel by R.F. Kuang, When the Reckoning Comes by LaTanya McQueen, and The Butchering Art by Lindsey Fitzharris.) 

So, the bookshelf reorganization is something of a meditation and a reckoning with all the books I have yet to read but have entirely forgotten that I own. (Truly, I discovered that I bought a copy of Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi at my favorite used bookstore in eastern Washington, Brused Books.) It almost felt like going to the bookstore in and of itself. I asked myself why I kept buying books when I have so many that I still need to read. 

I began my most recent organization on accident: first, I thought I would clean off the shelves, but wound up need to sort in all the books that were laying on their sides, frowning at me for their displacement. Then I realized that I wanted an entirely different structure. I was surrounded by teetering stacks of books that had now been totally divorced from their previous structure. My living room was a mess, and my cats were over-joyed. 

My previous organization was fiction, what I affectionately call schlocky science fiction/fantasy (intense world-building, expansive series, Sarah J Maas), reference, and non-fiction in a sort of gradient by topic. It would simply not do for my newly imagined and beautiful world of perfectly sorted books. 

After pulling every book I own off the shelves, I settled on this: contemporary fiction, I maintain my special sci-fi fantasy zone, classic fiction, reference remains, bio/memoir/essays, poetry, nature/environmental writing, lit theory, history… and the gradient of other nonfiction books. 

Some people assume because I currently have this organization that I am a book snob. It is not so (I hope). I have tried myriad systems, from size and height, to color, to simply ~vibes~. I have sorted my “favorite” books from the rest for a prized position in the living room. I have discriminated against my books based on beauty, though many of my favorites are the foulest copies in my collection. (I have my tattered and beloved mass-market edition of Frankenstein alongside the lovely Chiltern classic edition.) I will likely try many of these organizations again, depending on available shelf space and my mood. 

Despite all the ways I could avoid the massive organizational overhaul, I think I prefer it this way. Like many nerds, I love the chance to lay out all of my books and take stock of what I’ve got. It inspires me to read more classics. Also, I think it’s good for my brain when I change up the shelves, as I’m also a chronic furniture-rearranger. 

The end of reorganizing is deeply satisfying. My back hurts, everything looks virtually the same to anyone who isn’t me, and I can rest easy knowing I’ve remembered a couple books that I have (while forgetting a few others, likely. For now.) 

I’d like to ask, then: how do you organize your books?