|The Library at Chez Noony
Or, The Ladybug Bed and Breakfast Dining Room and Reading Nook
I spent much of December and all of New Year’s Day organizing my library. I put everything in order by topic, and then alphabetical by author. As I did so, I started to realize something: my library is a clue to myself. As I am exploring new diary techniques and autobiographical writing, organizing my possessions, and more particularly my books, has been a window that looks into the world about which I’m writing.
I can trace my own development as an adult through my books. There are the ones I have from my first university degree; Russian, philosophy, metaphysics, Wicca, and astronomy. Then there are my travel books and books about hiking – how to do it and where to explore. I have a startling number of personal productivity books – Covey and Smith, of course, but lesser-known authors as well. Personal finance features largely even before my MBA books, and I had a blast of nostalgia when I found my macroeconomics book, the first course I had to take as a prerequisite when I started my MBA.
There’s also the material I collected when working on my unfinished master herbalist coursework, aromatherapy science, and cooking. I have a huge home section, and not just on decorating the home – how to buy it, what to do when things go wrong, how stuff works in it, how to remodel it, and even how to entertain in it – and more than one entertaining book, too. I even have a book on how to be a blonde (don’t ask, it was at a used book sale and made me laugh, which was worth it for the dollar it cost to buy).
As I explore my own mind, and give myself permission to tell my own story and not the ones that were handed to me to cover the facts, I find that my library is a comfort to me. I enjoy sitting in the Ugli Chair and looking around at the books. I imagine staying in there for days, leaving only to use the restroom or get food and water, and that image is one that’s exciting. A retreat from the world to think and contemplate and read and write? What could be more fun?
Excuse me, but I think I’ll go sit in there for a while before I go to bed. But before I go, I have a question for you, Dear Reader: