During yesterday’s run around the neighborhood—a function of my (sometimes wavering) resolve to stave off physical decline—I passed a Little Free Library. As I often do, I stopped to see what was inside. I expected I’d leave with zero, as these things are typically full of kids’ books or weather-beaten paperbacks too moldy to bring home.
But not that day!
Well whaddya know—volumes IV, V, and VI of the Collected Plays of George Bernard Shaw with Prefaces. And in great shape! I have a few odd volumes from the collection at home, which I’ve kept since the 90s when the used book shop I worked for went out of business and I snagged a lot of treasures. The store only had three out of six volumes, but I was happy to have the hardbacks, being a fan of Shaw’s Man and Superman and thinking I’d read some more of the guy.
I cut the run short and took the books home, hoping (because I couldn’t remember for sure) that I had volumes I, II, and III on my shelves. After all these years: a complete set!
But no. Those old books are gone. I’ve checked and rechecked and checked again, but the only volumes from the Collected Plays of George Bernard Shaw with Prefaces in my apartment are the ones I just dragged home after an aborted jog. Because, of course, I sold the other volumes in 2016 when I got rid of 2,000 of my books because I was sad and because keeping things seemed stupid. I don’t know why I decided that three volumes from the Collected Plays of George Bernard Shaw with Prefaces weren’t worth keeping. I’d had them for nearly 20 years. And sure, I’d not read every play in those three odd volumes, but I’d read some. And there’s still time to read more. Because books are an investment in future reading, even if that future is decades away.
I look at volumes IV, V, and VI. Beautiful. I very much want to keep them, even if the collection in my library will again be incomplete. Maybe I’ll find volumes I, II, and III in a Little Free Library in 24 years. Maybe then I’ll have a complete set. Or maybe I am fated to never have all six volumes in my library. Maybe it was decreed by the book gods that my collection forever be piecemeal.
By the way, a full set of the Collected Plays of George Bernard Shaw with Prefaces is going for $280 online. Fuck me.