OK I’m french. My english is a frenglish, it’s rusty and wobbly, et voilà. Try me, though. I’ll do my best. I promise. If sometimes it’s too bad, just laugh at me or roll you eyes.
Imagine one day you could fall in love with a human being afflicted with a strange funny disease I call Bibliopathie – which is of course the “too many books syndrome”. Noooo not to the point of bibliomania…
You love, OK. You sea the disease (or, err, you sea the symptoms, which are causing a mess in your eyes and spirit : THERE ARE BOOKS EVERYWHERE IN THIS PLACE !). You wanna help.
Good to you.
Talk to him (or to her, but let’s say it’s a “him”), and try to find a way to get rid of… some of them. Observe. He’ll think. He’ll say “You are sooo right”. He will give three books to friends… and buy four.
He will probably sell a whole lot of Napoleonic Wars books of eBay, and buy biographies of Bartok, Brahms and Debussy with the money. Plus this little pocket hardcover of Witches of Shup, which was so cute you know ?
So you invent the magic Lever : “Just think, and keep 100 books !”. Tadaa ! Easy !
He will agree, fascinated. And you will see him plonger dans cette idée stupéfiante et magique.
Great ! OK !
Then, he begins. These Faulkner ? I keep. These Thomas Bernhard ? I keep them all, right ? This bios (Losey, Kazan, Mike Oldfield, Marianne Faithfull and Churchill and Abraham Lincoln), well, I just need them. Etc… Of COURSE etc !
You just discovered this : there is no cure for bibliopathie. Just let go.
Buy new shelves.