Of the various collections of objects I own (I’ll admit I have a very hard time letting things go), I decided to try Kondo’s “joy test” on my books, specifically the books in my bookcase (I have books in other places). In my bookcase I have two shelves designated for books.
I began with 110 books. I accumulated these over the course of years and have gotten them from a multitude of places.
Before I started sorting, I couldn’t anticipate how I was going to feel. I have always considered my books to be some of my greatest treasures. They share their lives with you. They become a part of you when their messages turn into the values you live by. They inspire. They represent the art of storytelling and the magic of imagination.
It turned out that this experiment was much easier than I could have imagined. The books that sparked joy in me I didn’t really have to look for. As I eyed my bookshelf they seemed to pull themselves out on their own leaving me saying “Of course. I love you dearly.”
Something that I noticed is that different books brought different types of joy to me. The ones above brought me joy when I held them because I love them so much. To me they are beautiful, meaningful pieces of art and life. I love them simply for what they gave me when I first read them and also for what they continue to give me when I think of them now.
This book represents a different type of joy that I experienced. This book contains reassuring spiritual wisdom from Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese monk, and during several conflicted points of my life I turned to his guidance to find comfort and solace. Knowing that this book helped me during rough times is a different kind of joy, one reminiscent of hope. I plan to hold onto this book forever because I can always come back to it during any point in my life where I feel I need guidance.
The two books above I have probably opened each only a few times and in a casual, flipping-through-the-pages manner. Despite my lack of using them, I won’t part with them because they were my mom’s and I love having things that belonged to people I love.
Similarly, the books in the pile below belonged to my grandmother. When my grandma passed away about a year and a half ago, I took in several of her books, I think as a way to memorialize her. My grandma loved literature, and she and I would spend many mornings sipping coffee and talking about books. I think much of my love for reading I get from her. For the joy it brings me to have these books that belonged to someone I loved so dearly, I won’t get rid of them, even though I likely won’t read many or most of them.
As for the books that didn’t spark immediate joy in me, some of them I haven’t read yet, but I genuinely plan on reading them in the future. I recall Kondo saying “I’ll get around to it someday” is often an excuse given by her clients. However, as a full time college student who has a job, it’s difficult for me to read for pleasure as much as I’d like to. So I mean it when I say “I’ll get to it someday.”
However, from going through my books, I was able to get rid of a total of 13. I actually am going to donate them after doing this experiment. Of the 13 I decided to get rid of, I only read 2 of them. Of the 2 I had read; “Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit” and “Diary of an Oxygen Thief,” neither of them were memorable, and I didn’t feel any attachment toward them. The other books I had decided to get rid of were all ones I had purchased at some time in my life when they piqued my interest, but I had never gotten around to reading them and I no longer have much of an interest.
This experiment reiterated for me the attachment I have to books based on how many I felt genuinely connected to, and thus gave me joy. It also made me think about why objects are so significant to me. It is not necessarily the object itself that brings me joy but the emotion or sentiment it brings me. A book that I loved in high school for example will bring me joy because I feel like it was a part of my high school identity. Books embody certain feelings, attitudes or experiences I had during certain periods in my life and so in that way I feel like they embody a piece of me and my past. Holding on to them makes me feel like I am choosing to hold on to a piece of my past. This gives me comfort as the concept of time confuses and overwhelms me.
Maya Angelou has a famouse quote that says ““You are the sum total of everything you’ve ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot – it’s all there.” I find this quote to hold a lot of truth. I believe that it also applies to perception. “You are the sum total of everything you’ve ever perceived.” Books are one of the few (tangible) things that mold perception, and perhaps this is why I have such an innate desire to hold onto them.
The Materials of History, Thought, and Art 
Hi Sydney! I really enjoyed reading your post, and found that we share a lot of the same books. Outside of that, I really enjoyed the section about your grandmother’s books. Although you haven’t read them, you clearly felt that spark in order to keep them. I think it’s interesting that ownership can also spark joy.
Hey Sydney!
I think the way that you applied Kondo’s method to your books was really well thought out. When I read your post and got to the part when you the books that you haven’t read yet solely because of college and how it manages to prevent books from being read, I thought about my own bookshelf and how I have been accumulating a collection of books that I haven’t read yet and claim that I will, which is definitely true. When I do have the spare time and ability to read I find myself going through my unread books, the ones that I had claimed I would read in the past. This almost makes me wonder if Kondo was correct when she said that we often won’t use the things that we say we will in the future, or if this idea is true for some objects and not for others, in this case others being books.