#23. Selling books — Myddelton

I spent last week going through books from my loft and selling them. It’s been a cathartic experience. If not a wildly profitable one.

It’s been cathartic because I’ve got a deep relationship with books. My mum didn’t let us have a TV until I was 14 so books were my entertainment. I studied a bookful subject at university - history - which was one big reading list. When I switched to be a designer I did this by reading every book about design I could get my hands on.

But that deep relationship changed. I stopped reading fiction books in my 20s and when I restarted in my 30s it morphed into Kindle and then audiobooks. I haven’t had a reading list for academic study for nearly 25 years. And in switching careers to be a product manager it’s not been books that have guided me this time around.

The one lingering connection is aesthetic. I grew up in a house with books spilling off shelves and piled up on the floor. Multicoloured spines have always been decoration. Texture. Colour. Pattern. At our flat in Haringey I made floating shelves with my friend Jeff to hold the books I loved most. I know people see this as ostentatious smugness - fair enough! - but for me these books also felt like chapters from my life.

Then in 2016 we left Haringey and the floating shelves. Sadface.

The books got boxed into the loft until “after the renovation”. We didn’t renovate for years. And now, six years later, my books are out of sync with my life. I switched to Kindle and audiobooks and the books just…stopped. New shelves would be partial, incomplete. (Sometimes I even daydream about buying loved Kindle books as physical copies to keep the illusion going! Absurd.)

So, long after my reading habits changed, I’ve let go of my lingering aesthetic too. Our renovated space won’t have rows of battered books for texture, colour, pattern. I’ve had to figure out what else might do that job (hello tiles?) and develop a new aesthetic. This has been tricky. But also kind of fun once I accepted and embraced it.

So last week I found myself scanning and sorting books into piles for WeBuyBooks, Sellitback and Ziffit (prices vary wildly across all three so multiple scans is the way).

It made me sad to let these chapters of my past go. But I’m happy that I’ve noticed a different thing. In emptying and refilling my loft I’ve spotted that I operate with two fundamentally incompatible behaviours. On the one hand I keep all sorts of things - books, music equipment, keepsakes - to return to in the future. On the other hand - now that I’ve lived in this ‘future’ - I’ve realised that I never do return to the past.

It just takes time for me to let things go. Not just books. Habits that once helped but now hinder. Friendships that formed before lives diverged. Beliefs that felt immovable until new stories and evidence showed up to change my mind. As I move through my 40s it feels like this breaking-and-remaking only gets more important. I don’t want to get stuck as any version of myself. I’m not quite sure why that’s so important to me?

Finally, just in case you think I’ve got monstrous resolve, I should be clear that I haven’t sold ALL my books. Some were just too painful to let go. For now anyway :)

Originally posted on Substack along with The English, Algorithmic Injustice, The Destroyer of Worlds, bubble and squeak. Say hello or ask questions on @myddelton.