A shelf of one’s own

Writing life.

Richard’s desk.

It’s been a week in which one of Umberto Eco’s quotes about books has been doing the rounds on social media: “It is foolish to think that you have to read all the books you buy, as it is foolish to criticise those who buy more books than they will ever be able to read. It would be like saying that you should use all the cutlery or glasses or screwdrivers or drill bits you bought before buying new ones. There are things in life that we need to always have plenty of supplies, even if we will only use a small portion.” This seems particularly apt, as we have just had bookshelves installed.

Since the events of 2020 threw my husband and I - two writers - back into the cramped environs of our tiny office, we have been on course for a refurbishment (not a divorce, luckily). Our collections of books and bookish knickknacks grew and our shelves bulged and generally threatened to topple onto us. Last year, Richard’s laptop was written-off by a tumbling wooden hippo.

Hippo disaster.

I’ve been putting it off, but since I bought a larger monitor for my desk, I had to remove the bookcase that stood on it and stack my books on the floor. Around the same time, our neighbour embarked on a building project in his back garden that was so extensive - so insanely ambitious in its proportions - that I thought “Our office has got to be easier than this!”

My desk after I removed the bookcase on it.

Books go into the hallway in preparation for the work.

Our brilliant handyman, Simon, said he would usually build bespoke bookcases, but due to the smallness of our house, the narrow stairs and so on, he didn’t think he would be able to get the planks of wood upstairs or have enough room to work. Our house apparently dates from an era before spirit levels because nothing is entirely straight or square. However, said Simon - with a flash of inspiration - why didn’t we get Ikea bookcases which he could then modify to fit into the space?

On Bookcase Day, Simon started the way he meant to go on - with the office door off its hinges - and proceeded to manoeuvre, drill and secure planks in mysterious ways, until the end of the day when he realised he needed a fix for a particularly uneven bit of wall under the final bookcase. Reappearing the next day, he installed brackets and the job was done (he even fed my computer cable under the carpet, despite this having been a trip hazard for ten years).

I can’t describe what a relief it is to have my books properly stored and the knickknacks back. I call them ‘Household Gods’ because this is what Kipling called the trinkets on his desk at Bateman’s (little deities, I suppose).

I’m not sure whether Richard’s hippo is a deity or an evil spirit, but I hope it can rest easy now.

Richard’s side of the office now.

My beautiful new shelves.