My Black Bookshelf

Musings (and plans) about building up my hardback book collection

As an elder millennial, my relationship with hardback books is somewhat special. My generation has been the front-and-center consumer base for the massive flip in publishing preferences. When I was growing up, those lucky authors selected for major publishing contracts would have hardback editions printed first, and then paperbacks would follow once the work proved to have staying power.

I still remember when a certain magical children's series hit the world by storm over 25 years ago; parents like my dad were eyeballing these huge tombs and questioning bookstore employees to make sure it wasn't an error. As both my parents have asked more than once, "this big ass book is for kids?" My dad was also buying me Clive Barker hardbacks at that time too, so maybe it was a him thing rather than a "parent of bookworms" thing. Thank the literary gods for dads who don't know any better.

Things have changed since multiple world and society-changing events decreased the amount of interest people have for physical stories. Technology brought about ebooks and audiobooks, along with a significantly expanded independent publishing market that wholly embraced print-on-demand services. Natural and man-made disasters have effected labor and supply chains. Essentially, the preferences flipped. Where hardback books were once the standard for "mainstream" publishing, we now have a market where a writer has to prove their mettle before this is even an option. I assumed this didn't make much of a difference in any of my reader or buying habits, until I started thinking about housing stability. I don't own a home and my parents never did either, but my best friend's parents do. I've been watching the trials and tribulations of home-ownership within a 6 figure plus, two-income household for twenty years now. And dealing with my own generational housing instability that entire time. And I *still* can't romanticize that particular milestone. I know that the dedication needed to buy my own house won't always be validated by the effort it takes to sustain it. So, I started considering the subjective experiences I could have. The specific, individual traits I could build into my home and make it tailored to me. My Black Bookshelf is one of the first ideas I had that really made things "click" for me. I'm not someone who devalues stories in any form, but I have always had a preference for physical books, and most especially hardback books. I read ebooks on my phone for fun, listen to audiobooks through my earphones to learn, and snag any reasonably priced thrift store paperback if it seems even remotely interesting. But since I was 13 years, I've been known to snap purses, test my friends and my parents' patience due to how far I'll go to bring along my big hardback books.

Though, it happened less and less as the trials of real life brought about repeated loss of all my possessions. I stopped buying hardback books altogether because I either a) lost them when I couldn't afford storing my stuff anymore or b) lost them when my health no longer allowed me to muscle bins of books from one place to another. I didn't see it as any great loss until I thought about the kind of collection I could have by now if life had afforded me a home that never moved. My only solace was that I had grown into such a different person, that I most likely wouldn't have kept the majority of the books anyway. My joy came when I realized nothing was stopping me from building a collection once I was secure enough. And even better, I had already begun working on a system to find stories I love in a market that had more options than I ever. I knew it was no longer possible for me to buy a physical copy of every story I loved enough to reread, but I also knew that changes in society and the industry would produce amazing stories I couldn't even fathom yet. Amazing stories that I hoped to contribute some day. So I chose to reserve a hardback bookshelf that I would be welcomed on. A Black Bookshelf dedicated solely to authors telling *their magical stories without skating over the ugly mark of chattel slavery in the West. Those stories that give voice to the power and presence of my ancestors, those stories that capture the depth and breadth of our cultural experience without relegating it to just a tragedy begging to be silenced. I knew these stories would have freedom to fly one day, because I was going to make it happen regardless. Imagine my joy when I began finding all the authors who were called to do the same. The 1-2 drops of authors per decade has turned into a steady trickle of ever increasing Black American, Black Caribbean and Black Indigenous stories that see the potential power in these allegories. OG's like Octavia Butler made way for veterans like Tananarive Due, who made way for the new class - like Justina Ireland and Rivers Solomon. It's a fascinating evolution to witness and even if I never make it onto my own bookshelf, I'm so grateful its finally a thing that can even exist.