In a world plagued by too many guns and too many mind-altering pills, having too many books doesn’t seem a major problem. But apparently book proliferation is more troubling than we know.
Just last month, the New York Times reported on the plight of Mendel Uminer, a young Jewish scholar and translator, who faced a crisis when his landlord objected to a collection of 10,000 books that filled his 600-square foot studio apartment on the Upper East Side.
Uminer received a notice from building management with this charge: “You are maintaining the premises in a severely over-cluttered condition, creating a fire hazard by over accumulation of combustible books on premises.”
After he failed to heed the warning, eviction proceedings began. Uminer decided to fight eviction in court. He said, “I know my library seems excessive, but it is not as excessive as some might think. Every book I own, I need to keep on learning. That’s what I have to offer the world.”
Uminer’s battle struck a chord. New York Times letter writers identified with the 31-year-old scholar. One Maryland doctor wrote, “I, too, have bookshelves in every room (except my bathroom) and continually read and rearrange them to accommodate more. Books for many are heritage. I own books that my mother read to my brothers and me as children. When I enter someone’s home and see no books, my first thought is, ‘What’s wrong with this person?’”
Another writer acknowledged, “We, too, are proud bibliophiles; bibliophiles of centuries past are like Marcel Proust and Johann von Goethe.” Yet a third writer spoke of being afflicted, having “book despair – too many books, not enough space.”
I, too, admit to having collected an abundance of books, thousands are housed on bookshelves of which I have an ample supply. But sometimes I run out of shelf space leaving a few hundred volumes stacked in closets and along dresser tops. Should I part with some? In past years, I‘ve repeatedly tried to winnow, but seldom have I made much progress.
Friends tell me that, if I donate my books, database interests will acquire them, rip them apart and recycle into artificial intelligence. I’m not sure I understand how they accomplish this feat. But I’d rather not be complicit.
Nor am I ready to listen to Marie Kondo, author of “Tidying Up.” The neatness guru decreed that one should have no more than 30 books at a time. Another expert declared that the ideal size of one’s library involves splitting your age in half and adding 7.
While straightening my own shelves, I’ve kept worrying about poor Uminer’s situation. Did the young scholar finally get evicted? And where did his collection go? As it happens, I need not have been concerned. His friends rallied on Uminer’s behalf. One friend lamented over the court decision and said, “It’s a story about a city that no longer has room for quirky intellectuals.” They helped pack up Uminer’s vast collection and took many boxes of books to his family’s home in Crown Heights.
Book despair aside, there finally is a positive ending to the Uminer story. He lucked out and found a new, larger apartment in the area. The city — after all — has absorbed the young scholar and his collection. One friend, surveying the new apartment’s more ample space, joked: “room for more books.”a
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