Bookshelf Diaries: Personal Archives in Plain Sight

My wife thinks I’m crazy because I’m obsessing over what books to put on our new living room shelves. We agree that 1/4th is for the cookbooks that we don’t have room for in the kitchen. But the other 3/4ths…

My current thesis is that our nerd friends should get a 25% stake with the “oh, cool” inspirational placements (ex. the Cometbus omnibus should be on one of those shelves), but then the remaining 50% should be for the nieces, nephews, and rando kids that aren’t always here but just in case.

Now, I know they’re not coming over to read, and the idea that they’re picking books from around the TV makes it even lesser odds, but - is there anything better than having some stuff they just might pick up and think is really cool?

Alas, the d’Aulaires are a no brainer for an easily reachable spot, and I’m debating on the comic book compendiums (maybe Frank Miller and Alan Moore just go on a higher shelf?), but that’s not covering the full 50% yet.

So, to Amazon I go.

Where’s Waldo, Calvin and Hobbes, and Far Side complete collections later - I declare “progress.”

But the Far Side books come and they’re too big. Too big, as in, they don’t fit on the shelves. They’re beautiful. But they’re HUGE. And heavy as hell. I tell my wife, “It’s fine, because if a kid wants to read it, it’s going to demand an adult lap too, and what’s better than the bonding experience of mutually glowing over one-panel jokes about death?” She smiles and tells me “This might explain too much about your childhood.” “You’re not wrong,” I admit.

All this bookshelf theory leads to us on the couch Friday night, with her in a pierogi book, and me pouring over Gary Lawson’s forward to the first of the two coffee table crushing books in no-shelves-land in front of me.

I’m just going to re-type this whole passage in here, because Lawson makes a point I don’t want to lose. He’s talking about publishing this complete volume of his work and how it’s making his stomach turn a little:

Every one of those panels, published nearly daily for 14 years, was a diary entry. A personal reflection on something that made him laugh, snicker, or crack at least a slight smile as he put ink to paper.

You want it to be you. It only works if it’s totally you.

And, it will feel weird from time to time.

Protect the sanctity of the space, and make sure the reflections are your own.

Yes, I will overly obsessive on what goes on my living room book shelves, guided by an optimization function that makes sense to me now and might feel crazy in a day or 14 years. However, that whole diary, THIS Personal Archive on CultishCreative.com where I reflect daily, it’s what makes me me.

Crazy, perhaps, but my wife is still my biggest fan and if YouTube has taught me anything, it’s that I no longer really care about the angry letters. It doesn’t matter if they’re bothered by my take on Bob Seger. I’d rather have the reflection and have it take me back to classic rock radio on the way to little league games, any day.

Make sure you're reflecting somewhere. Who knows what you'll look back on. It might just be a picture of you that will make you laugh, snicker, or even crack the slightest smile someday - which is eternally worth it. Or, like Larson's diary entries that wormed their way into millions of homes via all sorts of methods (think about that, right?!), your reflections might end up on somebody else's bookshelf, virtual or otherwise, too. Either way, your personal archive matters. After all, somebody's got to teach these kids how the world works…