From the Archives: “Some Old Friends Spark Joy (Whilst Kondo-ing My Library)”

BY C.M. MAYO — February 21, 2022 
UPDATE: This blog was then entitled Madam Mayo (2006-2022).

Originally posted July 31, 2017

I moved. And of course, this involved oodles of Kondo-ing.

For those who missed the phenomenon of Japanese tidying expert Marie Kondo: She says the way to do it is to pick up each object and ask yourself, does this spark joy? If so, keep it (even if it’s a raggedy T-shirt), and if not (even if it’s a brand new suede sofa that cost a heap), thank it, then chuck it— or donate it or sell it, or whatever, but get it out of your space. Many organizers and sundry pundits have dismissed Kondo-ing as “woo woo.” Too bad for them because, by Jove, by whatever Shinto spirit you want to name, or the god Pan, or Elvis Presley, it works.

My personal and working library is at last in good order, and I am delighted to share with you, dear and thoughtful reader, just a few of the many old friends that sparked much joy:

See this post that mentions the luminous Sara Mansfield Taber: “So How’s the Book Doing? (And how many books have you sold? And what was your print run?)”

Both of these books made my annual top 10 book read lists. 2011 Wandering Souls: Journeys with the Dead and Living in Viet Nam ; 2014 Finding George Orwell in Burma. (Note: links goe to old blog platform; soon to be updated)

Post re: Bruce Berger’s amusing, eccentric and very sensitive artist’s memoir. I often quote from Rupert Isaacson’s The Healing Land in my literary travel writing workshops.

Taking the advice in Neil Fiore’s The Now Habit enabled me to finish my novel.

David Allen’s GTD saves the bacon every time.

Back in 2010 Regina Leeds contributed a guest-blog:“Five Plus 1 Resources to Make a Writer Happy in an Organized Space”. (Note: link goes to old blog platform; soon to be updated)

I have a sizable collection of books about books. Books for me are heaven. I wrote a bit about book history in my recent longform Kindle,“Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla” .

Sophy Burnham is best known for her works on angels, but she has a sizable body of outstanding work of literary essay / sociology. Her The Landed Gentry was especially helpful for me for understanding some of the characters in one of my books. Doormen by Peter Bearman… that merits a post…

Drujienna’s Harp was one of my very favorites when I was first starting to tackle reading young adult novels. As for The Golden Key, pictured right, my copy was left for some days by an open window in the rain back in 1960-something, but I have saved it, and I always shall.

I welcome your courteous comments which, should you feel so moved, you can email to me here.

Meteor, Influences, Ambiance

Reading Mexico: 
Recommendations for a Book Club of Extra-Curious 
& Adventurous English-Language Readers

Una Ventana al Mundo Invisible (A Window to the Invisible World): 
Master Amajur and the Smoking Signatures

Some Old Friends Spark Joy (Whilst Kondo-ing My Library)

I moved. And of course, this involved oodles of Kondo-ing.

For those who missed the phenomenon of Japanese tidying expert Marie Kondo: She says the way to do it is to pick up each object and ask yourself, does this spark joy? If so, keep it (even if it’s a raggedy T-shirt), and if not (even if it’s a brand new suede sofa that cost a heap), thank it, then chuck it— or donate it or sell it, or whatever, but get it out of your space. Many organizers and sundry pundits have dismissed Kondo-ing as “woo woo.” Too bad for them because, by Jove, by whatever Shinto spirit you want to name, or the god Pan, or Elvis Presley, it works.

My personal and working library is at last in good order, and I am delighted to share with you, dear and thoughtful reader, just a few of the many old friends that sparked much joy:

See this post that mentions the luminous Sara Mansfield Taber: “So How’s the Book Doing? (And how many books have you sold? And what was your print run?)”

Both of these books made my annual top 10 book read lists. 2011 Wandering Souls: Journeys with the Dead and Living in Viet Nam ; 2014 Finding George Orwell in Burma. (Note: link goes to old blog platform; soon to be updated)

Post re: Bruce Berger’s amusing, eccentric and very sensitive artist’s memoir.I often quote from Rupert Isaacson’s The Healing Land in my literary travel writing workshops.

Taking the advice in Neil Fiore’s The Now Habit enabled me to finish my novel.

David Allen’s GTD saves the bacon every time.

Back in 2010 Regina Leeds contributed a guest-blog:“Five Plus 1 Resources to Make a Writer Happy in an Organized Space”. (Note: link goes to old blog platform; soon to be updated)

I have a sizable collection of books about books. Books for me are heaven. I wrote a bit about book history in my recent longform Kindle,“Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla” 

Sophy Burnham is best known for her works on angels, but she has a sizable body of outstanding work of literary essay / sociology. Her The Landed Gentry was especially helpful for me for understanding some of the characters in one of my books. Doormen by Peter Bearman… that merits a post…

Drujienna’s Harp was one of my very favorite novels when I was first starting to read novels.As for The Golden Key, pictured right, my copy was left for some days by an open window in the rain back in 1960-something, but I have saved it and I always shall.

I welcome your courteous comments which, should you feel so moved, you can email to me here.

Top Books Read 2021

Duende and the Importance of Questioning ELB

Great Power in One: Miss Charles Emily Wilson

On Decluttering Your Writing or, Respecting the Integrity of Narrative Design: The Interior Decoration Analogy

Ideally a novel provides the experience of a vivid dream, so when I teach my writing workshops, I always begin with specificity: generating specific detail that is vivid, that is, it appeals to the senses: sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell.

Inevitably, a hand goes up. 

But isn’t this creating clutter? How do you know when the detail is too much? 

Anyone who has taken a writing workshop or three will have heard: cut the adjectives, cut the adverbs, if you need an adverb you probably have the wrong verb, etc. All of this is right and good, however, in my experience, most writing– and I include first drafts by accomplished writers– is scant on vivid detail that appeals to the senses. Not vivid? No reader.

So, how to distinguish needed detail from clutter?

I like to use the analogy of interior decorating. Let’s assume the purpose of the living room is to host a tea party. So you decorate it in order to make your guest feel welcome, to make her feel both charmed and comfortable to come in, sit down on the sofa, and enjoy a cup (or three) of tea. That will be challenging if the entrance is blocked by five beat-up sofas and, say, a washing machine. It will also be, shall we say, rather uninviting if you’ve left last night’s pizza cartons on the coffee table. 

A book invites a reader in– so, don’t ask, am I expressing myself?; ask, will my reader feel welcome? Will she feel confident that I am in control of the narrative (in other words, that I know what I’m doing?) If not, she’ll put the book down– in the same way that she would not want to sit down and drink tea in a peculiar and cluttered house.

More questions from the workshop: 

When can I use adjectives? Can I use adverbs? Can I this, that, or the other thing?

There are no rules in art, but I think we find our path toward writing a good book when we understand and respect the intregity of our design.

The interior decorating analogy again: Some living rooms might be beautifully designed and yet feature a lot of detail. For example, a Victorian-style living room might have lace curtains, a knicknack cabinet with dolls and teacups and porcelain pugs; cabbage-rose upholstery; numerous chairs (a straight-back and a rocking chair, ottomans, etc); three potted palms, a fern on a stand; portraits of some twenty-seven ancestors and horses and dogs; and outside the windows, a glimpse of gingerbread trim. Despite all that detail, it could nonetheless be considered uncluttered— a guest could walk in, sit comfortably, and enjoy her tea in what is a very properly fussy Victorian room.

At the other extreme, we might have a beautifully designed yet minimalist penthouse: black leather and chrome furniture; everything white; one giant painting of a red slash. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window: nothing but sky. Certainly, a Victorian rocking chair would look like out of place, as would the washing machine and those pizza cartons.

Similarly, in the Victorian room, that chrome-and-leather ottoman would look more than rather peculiar, no?

Does your reader feel welcome? Does your reader perceive that you are in control as a designer / host / artist? One of the best ways to get a feeling for that is to go back and read a novel you have already read and absolutely loved, from beginning to end, for that is, by definition, a successful novel. Do not read as a consumer, for entertainment; read as a writer– examining how your fellow writer (be he or she Austen, Tolstoy, O’Connor, Kingsolver) put in or left out specific detail. Where are the smells, sounds, tastes, textures? Underline them. 

Had there been signficant clutter, you would have put the book down when you read it the first time.

The books you have already read and loved are your best teachers– there they are, waiting for you on your own bookshelf. But you have to read them as a fellow craftsperson, not passively, as a “consumer”: nor, for that matter, as a student of English literature. The latter is akin to a student who writes about the history or perhaps sociology of interior decoration. It is not the same as being an interior decorator– the one who chooses the sofa, hauls it in, and determines where to place it. And if you’re wrong about the sofa, no need to return it. Take out your mental zap gun and zap it into the infinite warehouse of your mind.

Meteor, Influences, Ambiance

Blast Past Easy: A Permutation Exercise with Clichés

Q & A with Poet Barbara Crooker

Find out more about C.M. Mayo’s books, shorter works, podcasts, and more at www.cmmayo.com.


Decluttering a Library: The 10 Question Could-Be-A-Flowchart

When is it a library and when is it hoarding? A personal library can easily mushroom (ay, and paperbacks do seem to multiply, in multitudinous multitudes) into a gnarly mess. And what good is a library where you can’t find the darned book you’re looking for?

When I was younger and did not have so many books, I loved them each and all, and never gave a one away (though I did, to my everlasting regret, sell my Nancy Drew mysteries collection to my sister). Then, ten years ago, we moved and I had to give away more boxes of books than I imagined possible. Funny, it got easier and easier… and what with all the extra shelf space, so did going to bookstores and amazon.com… and once again, I found my shelves piled with piles and in general chaos (no, Travels in the Yucatan does not belong with the Beatrix Potter bio, and yikes, did I really need 11 books on crop circles??)

In the process of decluttering anew, these ten questions, in the following order, let me decide quickly and easily what to do with each book. I’m filing this post under Future Reminders to Take My Own Advice; should this serve you also, gentle reader, that would be grand.

1. Am I reading it now?

If yes, goes to the READING NOW shelf. If no, on to question 2.

2. Am I planning to read it in the next [fill in the blank]?

For me I have enough shelf space right now to say, “the next couple of years.”

If you live in an empty movie theater you might be able to ask, “Am I planning to read it in the next century?” But if you live in a tiny house on wheels your time frame may shrink to, say, “the next five days.”

Do try to be realistic, if inevitably (sigh) optimistic.

If yes, goes to the READING SOON shelf. If no, on to question 3.

3. Is it part of a collection?

Collections have value on many levels, and the moreso when curated with thought and care. Mine include autographed first editions; Mexican art books; Baja Californiana, Maximiliana, and 19th and 20th century English language travel memoirs of Mexico.

If yes, goes to the appropriate shelf. If no, on to question 4.

4. Does it have serious sentimental value?

Because everything may have some sentimental value, this needs to be rated on a scale of, say, 1 – 10. I have enough shelf space right now that a minimum of 5 on a scale of 1 – 10 works for me.

If yes, it goes to appropriate shelf. If no, on to question 5.

5. Is it necessary for reference?

This also needs to be rated on a scale. I’m going for a 7.5 on a scale on 1 – 10. If you live in a mansion, maybe a 2 or 3 would do; if you live in Manhattan in 2 feet square, maybe you’d need it to be an absolute 10 +.

If yes, goes to REFERENCE shelf or appropriate shelf by subject. If no, on to question 6.

6. Would someone I know be happy to have it?

If yes, goes into an envelope / box and out the door! If no, on to question 7.

7. Can I sell it?

A lot of people don’t realize that some of their older books have value. (How about a 1st edition signed copy of James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake? You might buy a car with that.) And even if they’re crummy old paperbacks, if you have enough of them, I suppose you could squeegee together a little mountain of cash.

If yes, it goes onto the TO SELL shelf. And answer question 8. If no, skip directly to question 9.

8. Yeah, but honestly, am I really going to get around to selling it?

The transaction cost might not be worth it.

If yes, well, cool beans. Stop here, and proceed to next book. If no, on to question 9.

9. Can it be donated?

It’s a lovely idea to imagine that the donation of a book might help a library or other nonprofit, and ultimately, be read by others. Please do it! (Certainly a lot of organizations would be thrilled to have that signed first edition of Finnegan’s Wake.) And don’t overlook historical associations and university libraries. Grandpa’s self-published memoir of his time as a POW during WWII; great grandma’s xeroxed and saddle-stapled family history; a highschool year book from 1939 or, say, 1899, might be very welcome on certain shelves. That said, alas, some books are in such bad shape (coffee stains, cracked spines, yellowed, torn pages, etc) that no one wants them, and when you haul them over to, say, Goodwill or your local library, you’re not helping; you’re just giving someone else the unpleasant chore of throwing it in the dumpster.

If yes, goes into the DONATION BOX. (I keep mine in the hall closet. When it fills up, it goes to the basket in the basement, and when that fills up, it all goes into the back of the car, and from there to wherever it needs to go.) If no, on to question 10.

10. Can it be recycled into furniture, insulation, a jewelry box, or art?

If yes, goes to your WORKSHOP / STUDIO.

If the answer has been “no” to all ten questions, light a candle and give it a blessing if you must, but PUT IT IN THE PAPER RECYCLING BIN. This really is the last, the very last, very horrible, very sad, very karmically problematic resort. Oh well!

More anon.

UPDATE: A few more library management posts:

On Organizing (and Twice Moving) a Working Library: Lessons Learned with the Texas Bibliothek

A Working Library: Further Notes and Tips for Writers of Historical Fiction, History, Biography, and/or Travel Memoir, & Etc.

Meteor, Influences, Ambiance

Synge’s The Aran Islands and Kapuscinski’s Travels with Herodotus

Working with a Working Library: Kuddelmuddel

Find out more about C.M. Mayo’s books, shorter works, podcasts, and more at www.cmmayo.com.