Am winnowing my books. Two-fifths to go to storage, one-fifth to go to amenable book dealers / LJ friends / charity shops, two-fifths to stay.
Luckily, my subconscious was taking care of me, and only printed off the book list A-G. So I'll have to stop, as I can't check off what's there and what isn't, or mark each volume's fate.
Is it only me that feels guilty about books bought and then left to languish unread for years?
Is it only me who's terribly reluctant to discard old favourites, even if there's little hope of my ever reading them again?
Is it worse to discard a book you've read and enjoyed (more than once), but which has no literary merit whatsoever1; or a book that may have literary merit, but which you have never managed to pick up2?
Am surprised at how few books I loathe with a vengeance. Though there are some.
Off to bed with a Neglected Book now. Much of my C J Cherryh stockpile is going, but I may as well try some of her harder SF first ...
1Sharpe's Devil -- Bernard Cornwell
2The Ambassadors -- Henry James
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