Summary

The article "What Does My Book Shelf Say About Me" humorously reflects on the author's sparse bookshelf, using it as a lens to explore personal traits and interests, from frugality and a love for travel to gardening and self-help philosophies.

Abstract

The author of "What Does My Book Shelf Say About Me" engages in a witty introspection prompted by John Waters' famous quote about the importance of books in a partner's home. The piece reveals the author's minimalist approach to book ownership, suggesting a preference for eco-conscious living over material accumulation. Despite the limited number of books, the shelves speak volumes about the author's personality, including a penchant for reference materials, an adventurous spirit as evidenced by travel books on unusual destinations, and a green thumb indicated by gardening literature. The presence of multiple Bibles and high school yearbooks hints at a connection to faith and nostalgia, while self-help books in the bedroom suggest a journey of personal growth and empowerment. The author challenges readers to consider what their own bookshelves might say about them.

Opinions

The author playfully dismisses the notion that a lack of books signifies a lack of intellectual curiosity or generosity, defending their limited collection as environmentally conscious.
There is a tongue-in-cheek acknowledgment that the bookshelf might portray the author as frugal, but this is countered with a defense of their character and an invitation to look beyond the shelf for a fuller picture.
The author seems to value practical knowledge and adventure, as shown by the selection of reference books, travel guides, and gardening manuals.
A sense of humor is evident in the author's description of their books, such as referring to a French-English dictionary as "pocket size" only for The Jolly Green Giant.
The author appears to be somewhat self-deprecating, joking about the books on gardening despite not having a garden, and about the borrowed Audubon bird guide.
There is a subtle suggestion that the author values personal development, as indicated by the presence of self-help books in their private space.
The author seems to enjoy wordplay and innuendo, using phrases like "probe-worthy" and referencing the "F word" to engage the reader in a more intimate conversation about their interests and personality.
The article concludes with a playful challenge to the reader, implying that the true measure of a person isn't found in the quantity of their books but in the stories and knowledge those books contain.

What Does My Book Shelf Say About Me

It ain’t that pretty. Is yours?

“If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ‘em!” John Waters

You’ve heard that quote, right? It seems to pop up everywhere – even my crinkly 94-year-old great aunt forwarded it to me.

If this was your criteria for me you’d miss out on some really good boinking. Sauntering into my teeny home, your Sherlock-style examination would reveal that I’m not much of a keeper. My bookshelf is extremely limited. And fairly empty.

I wish the anorexic shelf on my antique great grandmother’s desk would murmur, “She’s a good, eco-loving person who refuses to trash the world with the extremely, wasteful purchase of books.”

But I’m pretty sure that in reality, it would outright betray me by shouting instead “she’s cheaper than heart-shaped chocolates on February 15. She wouldn’t put out for actual books.”

Which, by the way, isn’t true. Just in case any single dudes out there are wondering. But that’s a side note. And my hard 12-inch bookshelf doesn’t make the room even for side notes.

So what do the few books on this minuscule shelf say about me? And, Super Sleuth, would your analysis deem me probe-worthy?

Reference books

What can I say other than I occasionally like to rub reference facts between my fingers? An atlas — from pre-GoogleMap days when one had to, gasp, crack a spine to figure out what latitude Bhutan straddles. An English dictionary too old to contain the words fashionista or paywall. And a French-English dictionary that claims to be pocket size. This is only true if you are The Jolly Green Giant sporting oversized cargo pants.

Travel

Besides surrendering my cheap nature it would also reveal an adventurous side that loves travel. To weird places. Atlas Obscura. To communist countries. The Rough Guide To China. Or in the middle of my wonderfully massive country. The Great Central Canada Bucket List.

Do you like to travel? Would I be too brazen to inquire as to whether you prefer the city or the cunt-ry?

Birds and the bees

About one-third of the spines chillin’ amongst the cobwebs boast that I am a gardening guru. Louise Riotte’s Carrots Love Tomatoes and its quirky pal Roses Love Garlic keeps reminding me that companion gardening involves actual gardening.

A spade needs to eventually make contact with the dirt in order to classify yourself as a capital G gardener. But you wouldn’t know that my backyard has naught but Kentucky bluegrass, dandelion patches, and anthills bigger than my book collection.

Besides, you’d probably just assume that I’m too busy with birds and the bees to be thrusting a hoe into the soil. And I’m not being kinky. Bugs Of Ontario is flitting about with the Lorimer PocketGuide to Kitchener-Waterloo Birds and The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds. Please don’t mention the latter too loudly as I “borrowed” it from my parents half a decade ago.

Bibles

And to keep me on the straight and straight are three different bibles. Why three? Does this directly correlate with The Holy Trinity? Nah. One is my highlighted and dog-eared NIV while another was owned by my grandparents and lugged down the aisle at my wedding. The third is an illustrated version found while cleaning out my grandmother’s hoarder house.

You’re telling me that making out next to God’s word doesn’t turn you on? I get it. How about instead we check out what I looked like back in high school? My bangs, higher than your salary, are bound to get your gonads going.

My high school yearbooks

The biggest section of my library ledge is, after all, dedicated to my own ego. The five yearbooks from each of my 10-months in high school obviously mean I’m obsessed with my own personal history.

To be honest, there are books scattered on other surfaces of my home. These are the loaners or ones that are ready to be re-thrift-shopped when I have eyeballed the last period of the conclusive sentence.

But please, pretty please, don’t halt at my bookshelf. I beg you to check other spots around my house.

My bedroom

How else will I get you into my bedroom? If the F word turns you on you might like to see Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A Fuck snuggling up to Gary John Bishop’s Unf*ck Yourself.

I’m pretty sure they’re both trying to get it on with Sonya Renee Taylor’s The Body Is Not An Apology. But she’s a little too busy intellectually conversing with Glennon Doyle’s Untamed.

Do I pass the test?

So, Detective, I ask you to again consider my library. Is it too despairingly insignificant or would I get you into my cargo pants?

Challenge: Tell us what your bookshelf reveals about you!

Michael Burg, MD (AKA Medium Michael Burg) Mary DeVries Mr. Smith Olivia Morellan Aimée Gramblin Teresa J Conway Tree Langdon Karen Downton Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她) Amy Colleen Amy Culberg Reuben Salsa Elle Beau ❇︎ Tracey Folly Carlos Garbiras Rambling Rose Jennifer M. Wilson Brenda Mahler Jessica Wildfire

Article inspired by Melissa Coffey.

https://readmedium.com/written-on-the-shelf-the-writer-as-reader-a165d796107c