I don’t care what’s on your bookshelf

Since lockdown began and TV interviews began being conducted from the comfort of people’s own homes, attention has turned to interviewees’ bookshelves.

The tweet of Sarah Vine and Michael Gove’s bookshelf managed to enrage the social media mob, with people furiously decrying the presence of Ayn Rand and David Irving. As controversial as the

contents of these books may be, the matter of owning a copy is a very different issue.

Books have two main purposes; learning and entertainment. This means that books tend to be a snapshot of someone’s life. They are not a view into the soul, no matter what some people seem to

believe. If people only owned books containing arguments they agreed with, then it would be a tragic day for the minds of the country — as well as for Waterstones.

However, does any of this matter anyway? Having a bookshelf filled with everything from Mao’s Little Red Book to Mein Kampf doesn’t actually mean anything. I would go so far as to say that

deliberately choosing to have books like that on display to emphasise what a wonderfully open-minded and dedicated reader you are just shows a level of snobbery and superiority that makes me

entirely uncomfortable.

Books are, by their very nature, a private matter. Something that you can curl up into a corner of the sofa with, something you can read on the tube, something you can relax in the bath

with, but certainly not something you can partake in simultaneously with others. The contents of a book can’t be taken away from you once you have read it, nor can anyone force you to change

how you interpreted it or what you learnt from it.

So why must we continue this bookshelf snobbery? Would people be judged for admitting they don’t own bookcases full of biographies, history and politics? In today’s society it would seem so,

but snobbery on the topics aside, it feeds into a much wider snobbery. For neither books, nor indeed the space needed to house such epic collections are free.

In the age of the Kindle, where classics from Hemingway to The Complete Works of Jane Austen are available from as little as 99p, downloaded straight to one device, approximately the size of

one short story, why should we feel obligated to buy heavy, space-consuming and expensive copies of everything?

Should I decide that the academic credentials of being able to show off my personal library when anyone gets to visit my small London flat again outweighs the numerous costs of maintaining

such a collection? What if suddenly, when forced to confront real life again I realise I don’t have anything to say so must rely on my extensive book collection in lieu of a personality?

Well if that turns out to be the case, then perhaps I shall re-assess in a few months time. But in the interim I’ll judge commentators based on their commentary, not the carefully manicured

bookcase behind them. And most importantly, I’ll keep taking my waterproof Kindle into the bath with me without the fear of ruining something I can neither afford nor fit in my home.

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