Bookmark: Readers keep books for joy, for sentiment

More than 100 people from all over the country responded to a recent Bookmark column about why we keep books, and I have to say that all of the replies were deeply affecting. None more, perhaps, than this one from Harold Lieberman of St. Cloud, who writes: "As I approach the age of 100 in March, I have finally accepted the fact that I have no time to re-read all the books" that he would like to.

Now he is giving books away in earnest, with the help of his children. "I will miss many of these books and the ability to pull them off the shelves at will," he says, "but it's time to bite the bullet and let others enjoy them."

I hate to think that there aren't enough years in a life to read everything we wish, and if that isn't a good reason to not fritter away time on our phones and Netflix, I don't know what is. (Yet, I fritter.)

That said, Cynthia House of St. Louis Park has already, at age 58, come to terms with jettisoning books. "I love love love love love books and reading," she writes. "Yet, at this point in my life I only have a couple small piles of books in my home. I've moved on to a catch and release philosophy as part of a transformation to a minimalist lifestyle.

"Some of the books I let go of caused me pain in the moment — my college copy of the Riverside Shakespeare with tissue-thin pages comes to mind. But it remains vivid in my memory and that's enough. I feel lighter with less stuff, including books."

Jessica McComas of Deerwood, Minn., sent photos of gorgeous built-in bookshelves that her husband built, saying, "I keep books simply because they make me happy."

Brian Day writes from Bluffton, S.C., "Throughout all the changes in my life the one constant has been books." Some people buy expensive sports cars, he said, or boats. "Books call to me. That is why I surround myself with them."

To Jackie Maas of Plymouth, books represent possibility. "I keep books for the longing of what could be — places I would like to explore, gardens that could be grown if I lived anywhere warmer than Minnesota, breads that could be baked if I took the time to acquire the skill," she writes. "Most importantly, I keep books for the reminders of what was — to relive what I experienced when I first read them."

But not everyone has room for hundreds of books. Carol Koball of Charlotte, N.C., mostly reads library books. "The last book I bought was 'Braiding Sweetgrass' by Robin Wall Kimmerer. I will read that again and again. I have always wanted a room lined with bookshelves and filled with books, but it is not to be."

Lu Christensen of Coon Rapids, a practical sort, writes: "When I started school, I only wanted to learn to read but they wouldn't let me quit after I could. I like to keep books I have really enjoyed even though I seldom reread them. I think a house is a home with bookcases full."

Monte Bute, who taught sociology at Metropolitan State University for decades, says: "Twelve years ago, on my 65th birthday, I was diagnosed with a rare terminal cancer, carrying a medium survival rate of 14 months. I am long past my expiration date. That brush with mortality awakened me to the reality that neither I nor my library were immortal. It was time to begin gifting my books."

He began donating his books to honor "my beloved Metro State's 50th anniversary. With each volume bearing my donor's stamp, I and my library will fittingly live on in a public sanctuary."

But Linda Schmidt of Sisseton, S.D., is stumped by the question. "I haven't the faintest clue why I do," she writes. "I'm 73, have over 2,000 books that are mostly read. I will never reread them, yet I don't part with them. I lend them out sometimes, but always want them back."

Ethel Marx of Stanchfield, Minn., is a reader but not necessarily a keeper. "I don't believe in it. If I enjoy a book I think it should be passed on and shared. I only keep and reread Elmore Leonard, truly a great American writer."

When Douglas Harper of Forest Lake moved back to Minnesota a few years ago, he realized he had too many books to move and he called a book dealer. But in the end, he couldn't part with about half of them. "The books themselves carried memories," he writes. For instance, "W.H. Auden's 'Letters From Iceland,' which I stuffed into my pack when I hitchhiked from Snaefellsjokull to Isafjordur many decades ago. I picked up the long neglected book and the memories flooded back. I think I could smell a stale blueberry."

Books! Maybe they are everyone's Proustian madeleines.