Tag: creative process

For years, my books about North American indigenous culture were tucked away in a box. I decided I was wrong about them and with newly opened space because of The Great Sort, I put them on a shelf. These are in addition to the works by and about Black Hawk which I always kept out, and those of Hyemeyohsts Storm which I kept out, yet now boxed away. I wrote about Chuck Storm as we called him here. The next step is to incorporate this literature into a reading plan.

Of these books, the author that might best fit into a canon of American Literature (if such a thing existed or was possible) is N. Scott Momaday, whose House Made of Dawn won the Pulitzer Prize in 1969. There are others here that remain quite good. I read what I read of these beginning in 1970 while at university. I don’t know where this is going, yet they are out and available in a prominent space. I won’t miss seeing them daily and expect to read some of them.

I mentioned the Time magazine purge. I came across a dozen copies of Harpers Magazine dated 1938 and 1942. I bought them at either an auction or a yard sale for a buck. They used to be property of the Mount Carroll, Illinois public library, yet now find themselves in The Big Sort. There are familiar authors inside: John Dos Passos, E.B. White, Peter Drucker, Margaret Bourke-White, Glenway Wescott, Eudora Welty, T.S. Eliot, Franz Werfel, and probably others I should recognize. At the stop on my desk, enroute to the recycling bin, I notice how many pages of book advertisements there are. The December 1938 issue has 44 pages by most of the major publishers. That says something about the role Harpers played in popular culture. If that didn’t give it away, the advertisement for New York department store Hammacher Schlemmer did.

There are four mover’s boxes of vinyl records which I will attempt to sell locally. I asked our child about them and there was only a single record of interest: Beethoven’s Fidelio. The ones I will keep are a small, undetermined number. I will keep the Red Gallagher album because he autographed it for me and grew up a block away from our home. I spent a good part of my life listening to these hundreds of records. While I still have a turntable, I need a new amplifier and don’t want to spend the money. Probably should sell the turntable as well.

I’m writing on Christmas Day and noticed how many empty boxes there are. The purge of books and magazines is having the desired effect. There are more boxes than things on the sorting tables. At this point, I will find something to fill most of the boxes, although I am weeding out different styles of boxes because I need them for book shipments to the public library. While I just began The Big Sort, it feels like it has been going on for a much longer time. In a way, it has.

When handling hundreds of books long packed away, a few will stand out. Not only do I want to keep those in this photo, I want to read or re-read them next year. It’s part of the process of the Great Sort.

While living in Mainz, Germany, I had a stamp made with my military address and Social Security number on it. Back then, we viewed the Social Security number as unique to us and if we got separated from any possession, the rightful owner could be found. It was embossed into our dog tags. We put it on clothing, imprinted it inside field boots, in books, on everything that would take ink. That was short-term thinking from a perspective of how many people today would like to get hold of that number and use it for theft and other evil purposes. Wasn’t the best idea.

A substantial part of the Great Sort has been spent searching for these stamped locators and either blacking them out or cutting them off.

It has been hard to persist more than a few hours without getting impatient and stuffing books back into another box and into the new stacks I am building. At that point I must resist the urge, turn off the lights, and find something else to do. I want this to be a final sort. I’m labeling and dating the outside of the boxes so I know what’s in them and when I last touched the books. I doubt I will return to many of the boxes.

In the display area of my writing space I have about 3,000 books. I pulled out and boxed all the books of music. The vinyl long playing records will get boxed, reunited with the others I have, and then finally disposed of. This creates more space for active books and some of it will fill with the three-ring binders I am making as I write my autobiography. It should be a more useful (to a writer) library.

I want the Great Sort to be finished by Spring. I think that is doable even as I enter seedling planting time next month, especially if I stick with it a couple hours per day. The purpose of the work is to improve how I store research materials and become a better writer. I’m hopeful at this point. all of that will be the Great Sort’s outcome.

I spent two hours rearranging poetry books in my stacks. I decided eight 23-inch shelves was enough poetry and some had to go. Now there is an eight-inch stack of poetry books awaiting disposition. Poetry measured in inches.

I rearranged the poetry so more in which I have interest rest at eye level. On top are the smaller-sized books and below that is the canon. You know, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dante, Donne, Milton, Dryden, Pope, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, Keats, Swift, Browning, and Blake. The exception is Chaucer and Shakespeare’s plays are across the room because the poetry shelves weren’t tall enough.

The other exception, or rather objection to the canon, is where are the women? You know, Charlotte Smith, Felicia Hemens, Mary Robinson, Anna Laeticia Barbauld, and maybe others. They were largely erased by the male authors of the canon. I don’t own any of them or I’d fit them in.

Don’t get me started on an American canon. Somewhere in the 20th Century that broke down and can never be repaired.

This is my current life when I am not writing. Opening about 100 boxes of books and deciding which to keep and which to donate. Already I’ve taken a dozen boxes to the library’s used book sale. There will be more.

I used to stamp my name and address in every book I bought. My hands have been on books from every place I lived this month. Some of the fifty year old paper has changed. Books from the 19th century crumble in my hands. I took one old book to a used bookshop to consult about the damage. This is a practical task that should involve logic. It’s more emotional than expected.

There is material for multiple posts in this project. I have to wait and see what I get into before knowing what their subject will be. I hope you are along for the ride.