Snapshots From My Barn-Raising

Other good moments from the barn-raising, all having to do with the unloading of my book collection:

— David said, at one point, “Is this a really vulnerable moment for you? Everyone seeing all of your books?” It WAS. I have lived like a hermit for 10 years. To have people all in my stuff was strange … but also beautiful.

— Becca saw the Twilight books lined up. Becca is 10. She was only allowed to read the first two books. She has to “wait until I’m older” before she can read the others. I commiserated with her about that. “Is it okay that you have to wait until you’re older?” I asked. She shrugged and smiled. “It’s okay.”

— Liz stood by the bookshelves, dumping books onto the shelf – and pulled one out. “This is one of my favorite books!” she cried – holding it out. Prayer for Owen Meany.

— Sheila, sitting in a chair, reaching down into a box at her feet and plopping books on the shelf. Pulled out one slim volume, and cried, “Oh, I LOVE Carl Dennis!!” Sheila’s a poet. I love Carl Dennis too.

— Kerry, standing on a chair, was unloading a bunch of books, and kept saying, “I need to come over here and you need to write down a list of books I have to read – There are so many here I want to just TAKE.” She pulled out Colin Thubron’s The Lost Heart of Asia (a book I looove) and read the back cover and then started flipping through it. I noticed her deep interest. “That’s a wonderful book,” I said. She said, already deeply engrossed, “I have to read it.”

–I was standing unloading some books, Maria was standing nearby. I found my stack of V.C. Andrews books – and all I had to do was hold out If There Be Thorns to her for her head to explode. “OH MY GOD,” she shouted, her whole life flashing before her eyes. Hahahahaha

— Becca asked me sweetly if she could borrow the first Harry Potter book. Are you kidding? Little sweetie pie with glasses and red toenails asking me if she could borrow one of my books? I had to hold myself back from shoving the entire collection at her.

— Later, all the books put away, we were sitting in the study, and Maria was glancing around at all the work we had done, and she said, slowly, “You know … I guess I never realized … just how many books you actually have.” Me neither! I’ve never seen them all in one place! They’ve always been higgledy-piggledy shoved in every available space I have … but to see two walls of books really brings it home, the collection we were dealing with.

— Kerry, muttering to herself, standing on a chair, “I really want to keep all the LM Montgomery books together …” I love these people.

— Kerry, picking up my “fan book” of Quantum Leap. This was after she had unloaded my Quantum Leap DVDs in a neat row on a shelf. She said, “Okay, Sheila, this Quantum Leap thing is making me nervous …” She doesn’t know the half of it …

— David, shouting, holding a beer, “Where do I put the Bible?”

— Liz, putting away stacks of Samuel French scripts – suddenly talking about all of the scripts she has at her house, and how she has no room for them anymore. She is thinking of donating them to a local high school or college, and I think that’s a really good idea.

— Emma, 12 years old, flipping through Emma, by Jane Austen. Maria (her mother) said to me, “We just saw that movie Becoming Jane and Emma has been wanting to read some Jane Austen.” I said, dragging a box into the other room, “Do you want to borrow it, Emma?” I caught Emma throw her mother a glance, like, “Mom … can I?” I don’t know why, but remembering that glance still makes me well up with tears. Mothers and daughters.

— Me, declaring, “I don’t want any books in my bedroom. My bedroom is for sleep and moisturizing and loving. I’m sick of sleeping surrounded by 5,000 books.” So my friends all silently trotted out, carrying the piles of books far away from my love den. So funny.

— Kerry, standing on a chair, calling out to me, “Does it matter that the biography of George Washington is next to this book about Irish fairies?” “NO!” I shouted.

— Carson, the other 12 year old, sitting seriously in a corner looking through I Am the Cheese. School starts in a week, and she had finished her summer reading, so she didn’t want to take the book (although I offered) – her workload is about to kick in and she didn’t want to add to it. But she wanted to know everything about it. “So it’s like a spy thing? The government killed his parents?” she asked, her eyes wide and interested.

I live in a small un-social world. People haven’t come over to my apartment because my apartments have been too small. My books are mine and mine alone. My dad always approved, and would give me suggestions on how to organize and how to handle my burgeoning collection. But I walk a narrow path, and nobody “comes over”. It’s partly because that’s the way of the world, in an urban environment, where we’re separated (in some cases by a river!) – and although it was a little bit anxiety-provoking to have my entire book collection (erotica and all) upended for my friends to see – it was also kind of effing glorious, I have to say.

My books seem different now. They’ve been handled, seen, pored over, commented on. My life opened up to the world. That is a good thing.