Culling

I have never cared for the "Desert Island Discs" notion of choosing a dozen records that one would choose to take into exile Yes, I could come up with a list of twelve; but what if one morning I woke up to know that I had heard enough of those twelve discs for now, and it was time to hear some Strauss or Monteverdi or Ellington?

Yet those of us without practically unlimited time and space do go through the same exercise. The parameters are larger, but the principle is the same. One must choose what to keep. If it is the thousandth rather than the thirteenth spot contested, the choice may be easier, or a matter of indifference. Still, it must be made.

Not quite three years ago, we regained the use of some bookshelves that we had stowed in the garage while a contractor renovated our basement. Suddenly we had plenty of space. Gradually it filled, and now we have little. In fact, we may have less than none, if we were to try to fit in the books now lying tacked on tables. It is time to discard some.

I have been considering the books that are more or less mine, purchased by me or given to me, that is, rather than purchased by my wife or given to her. I can say that The Federalist Era will stay, but Albion's Seed and Washington's Crossing, for all that I think well of David Hackett Fisher, will go. The Big Show in Bololand can probably go, but before or after I finish it? If after, when will that be? Other choices are easier, fortunately. Maybe by May we can make room enough to get us through another couple of years.