Started the day off not too well today. But what better way to cure mild depression than to rearrange your bookshelves? Finally tired of tripping over the collapsed towers of books that litter my house, I decided to bite the bullet and organise them. I have five bookshelves. The one in the picture below sits in my bedroom, and is now full of books I own but either haven’t read or only read part of. It’s quite worrying, really. Please note the mildly autistic colour-coding, and the high number of books I absolutely should have read by now (and a fair number I’ve claimed to have read all the way through…). If I’m lucky, you won’t be able to recognise too many of the titles.

The other good thing about rearranging books is discovering titles you forgot you owned. Among the highlights:

Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson — This belongs to a friend of mine, and I thought I’d lost it. I had so little hope of finding it, I ordered my friend a brand new copy from the US with a much better cover. Which I now shall keep. Apparently the movie of this book is also good, but I will never watch it, because it stars one of my nemeses. No, not these ones. This one. Why is he my nemesis? Because of this fucking debacle.

Kasper Hauser’s SkyMaul — An hilarious parody of The Sky Mall catalogue (The US equivalent of the Innovations catalogue, discoverable in every seat pocket on US airlines). Why not order your Hitler-Turning-Into-Werewolf Nightlight now!? How about a pair of Pre-9/11 Fantasy Slippers? Or Petrified Frozen Yogurt? For more information, click here. If you like it, why not order a copy from your friendly local bookshop?

But my all time greatest forgotten book find was this:

I would show you the back cover, but then I would go to gaol.


  1. >I have two colour-coded book cases. Until now, I thought this was a ‘clever’ and attractive way of ‘organising’ books. Not to mention the challenge of remembering book spines when I’m after something in particular. ANd I agree, the rearrangenomicon is certainly one way to cure the mild depression you speak of. Much better than going through your old CD collection. If you do that you end up sitting there mournfully, for hours listening to Jeff Buckley or Nick Drake. Blagh. the end.

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