What Does Your Book Organization System Say About You?
Book lovers everywhere look upon your aesthetically-pleasing, functionally-useless bookshelf with deep disdain.
Alphabetical (by author) Congratulations, you are a winner! This is the correct way to organize a bookshelf. Your friends describe you as “boring, but reliable.” You’re a missionary position kind of guy. Two scoops of vanilla, no toppings. You’re probably an actuary, and, if you’re not, you’ve missed your calling as an actuary. You tasted a banana once and it was a momentous day. There’s no shame in it — embrace the humdrum! (And if you ever choose to retaliate against your shit-talking friends, at least you know you can lay your hands on Gruesome Revenge Plans (Kelly, George) in 3 seconds flat.)
Dewey Decimal You’re committed! You’re super-organized! You’re a bit intense, and people fear you! You won’t shut up about your Masters in Library Science. You lost your virginity to a bicycle in your late 30s. You took your label maker to prom. You iron your panties, and everybody knows it. You got into an altercation over Jane Eyre at the Brontë Conference, and now you’re serving 5–10 for assault and battery. But at least those prison bookshelves are immaculate.
By Color All you know is you must have a yellow book about anthropology, or a yellow book about cheese, or Old Yeller, but you couldn’t possibly say which. Is this normal behavior? Nope, but you’re a bit of a strange dude. You are the object of many rumors. Your neighbors say you’re on drugs. Your friend Jen says you stole her son’s copy of Harold and the Purple Crayon. Some say you can’t read at all… Just know that book lovers everywhere think you’re a phony and look upon your aesthetically-pleasing, functionally-useless bookshelf with deep disdain.
The Tetris Method You’re a high-functioning professional, but there’s a glint of madness there. You enjoy cramming everything on the shelf willy-nilly and making rational-thinking people cry. You fold the corner of the page down when you read. You’re a night owl, living on a diet of plain pasta and Two Buck Chuck. You suspect there might be dead cats under the trash heap that is your apartment. Maybe you’ll win the MacArthur Genius grant, and maybe* you’ll accept it with sauce on your beard.
(*You will. You definitely will).
Totally Random This is psychopathy in action, and it’s not to be condoned. There are books heaped all over the joint, and you believe a hairpin, your Social Security card, and a quesadilla all make perfectly serviceable bookmarks. Your Meyers Briggs type is IDGAF. You probably put mayo in your coffee and sleep on the floor like a dog. Your graduating class voted you “Most Likely to Drink Your Own Bathwater.” You couldn’t give a fig though, as you skip merrily through life with a Mongolian throat song on your lips and spinach in your teeth. Scientists should study your brain in a jar, you absolute chaos goblin.
The Marie Kondo Method You gullible fool! You followed the bad lady into her windowless van of lies, and now the candy is long gone, along with your first edition Tolkiens. You’re doomed to spend your days gazing sadly at just 30 little books on dismal, desolate shelves, and straining to remember what your dead Mee-Maw wrote on the flyleaf of Oh, The Places You’ll Go. You will die an old man, filled with trashy TV and regret. Remember to ask yourself if that sparks joy! Pfft.
Lisa Cowan gives herself such very good advice, but very seldom follows it. She is the wrangler of two small people, and has been tired for three years.
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