The TBR Guilt Problem…Solved (Pt. 2)

I think this second installment of how I solved my TBR guilt problem will be the final one. (Here’s the first installment, if you missed it.) Why? Well…because the problem is solved, right?

Maybe. Bottom line is, I will always, ALWAYS love books. BECAUSE BOOKS. That was/is never the problem. Also, I don’t think the “problem” is my ridiculous TBR pile/shelf/bookcase. I think the problem was that I felt guilty for giving up books that, in all reality, I would likely take forever to find the time to read.

At any rate…here is the latest round of lovelies, off to new lives:

Headed to my favorite Indie

Headed to my favorite Indie

These two bags (and the box set of The Iliad and The Odyssey) are off to my favorite used and independent bookstore in Boulder, The Bookworm. Not gonna lie…it is my dream to open a satellite location where I live (about 20 minutes east of Boulder) so that I can stand in a bookstore all day, and smell books that have been loved. There’s something special about used bookstores. They smell like love. Bookstores that sell new books smell like potential. The Boulder Bookstore sells both, making the smell a heady combination of potential AND love. It’s intoxicating, really.

Headed to my classroom library

Headed to my classroom library

This pile (in progress, because my daughter adds books as she finishes them) is headed to my classroom library. I love sharing booklove with my students. On the last day of school, I wore a shirt that said, “I like to party, and by party I mean read books,” so that there was no doubt in my students’ mind how I would spend my free time over the summer. Note: The Bluest Eye and Ceremony are there because I will be teaching them next year (I get to share a section of AP Literature with my best friend and I am SO STOKED), and the ones I had were the wrong editions, so I had to get new ones. Don’t judge. You know you’d switch out your copies, too.

At any rate…I don’t feel guilty for sharing—notice I don’t say “giving up”—these books. They will go somewhere. They WILL be read and loved (or marked up as research material for someone’s novel, which is still love, right?), and they will be much better off than they have been for the eon they’ve spent on my shelf collecting dust.

So…no more guilt for me. All of these stories, characters, and pages are off to a brave new world, and I’m perfectly happy about that.

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