You know what? Although I own a lot of books, I have a good idea of what I do own and what I don’t. Only once have I unintentionally bought the same book twice and that’s because the copy of Jessie Burton’s The Miniaturist I first owned was the e-book version and I always forget what e-books I own, so I ended up buying the physical copy, which I think I got on discount.
But if it’s a physical book, I have a pretty good idea whether or not I own it. If it’s an e-book, I have no idea. It’s harder to remember if I own those or not. I guess it’s because I don’t have a sensory memory attached to them. With my physical books, I remember either pulling the book from the shelf in the store or touching or smelling the pages, or caressing the cover because I like the feel of it. Those sensations strengthen my memory of the physical book.
With e-books, all I do is look and click and move on to something else. The time spent with them is shorter and kind of impersonal. No wonder I don’t remember them.
Well, let’s get back to this 3-books-deep bookcase.
We’re wrapping up the third shelf from bottom, which has a variety of books but mostly fantasy. We’re now on the third row, which surprised me because of the amount of nonfiction that’s on it. (I was wondering where these books were! They were supposed to be in the last row of the second shelf from the bottom. I was a little worried when we toured that shelf and I didn’t see them there. I was ready to tear my house apart and harass my family (j/k) to find them.)