There is a moment in every reader’s life when they realize something has gone terribly wrong.
Usually, that moment occurs while standing in front of a bookshelf that is completely full, holding three newly purchased books and trying to determine whether the laws of physics are negotiable.
You tell yourself you like books.
This is true.
You tell yourself you enjoy reading books.
Also true.
What you do not mention is that buying books and reading books have somehow become two entirely separate hobbies.
You have books you intend to read.
Books you are currently reading.
Books you bought because someone recommended them.
Books you bought because they were on sale.
Books you bought because the cover was pretty.
Books you bought because you already owned another edition but this one has sprayed edges.
And somewhere beneath all of this is a TBR pile quietly developing its own gravitational field.
If any of this sounds familiar, you may already be progressing through the seven stages of book buying addiction.
There is no known cure.
We’re very sorry.
1. DISCOVERY: “OH, THAT LOOKS INTERESTING.”
It begins innocently.
You are scrolling through social media.
Browsing a bookstore.
Reading a blog.
Watching a video.
Talking to a friend who has absolutely no respect for your existing TBR pile.
Then you see it.
A book.
Perhaps the premise sounds interesting.
Perhaps everyone is talking about it.
Perhaps there is an ominous mansion on the cover and, as we have previously established, you are powerless against ominous real estate.
You investigate.
This is your first mistake.
You read the description.
Then a few reviews.
Then someone says:
“I wish I could read this again for the first time.”
Oh no.
You have now entered Stage Two.
Warning sign: You have opened a new browser tab.
2. JUSTIFICATION: “I DON’T OWN ANYTHING EXACTLY LIKE THIS.”
You do not need another book.
This is obvious.
You have unread books at home.
Many unread books.
Some have been waiting patiently since administrations ago.
But this book is different.
You begin assembling the case.
“I’ve been wanting to read more historical fiction.”
“This author has really good reviews.”
“I need something lighter after my current book.”
“I don’t have many books about dragons.”
Nobody asks how many books about dragons a person reasonably requires.
You continue.
“It’s educational.”
“It’s part of a series I already started.”
“I’ve been meaning to read this author.”
“It would be good for vacation.”
Vacation is eleven months away.
Doesn’t matter.
Your legal defense is nearly complete.
Then you deploy the argument against which no reasonable court can rule:
“I had a coupon.”
Case dismissed.
Buy the book.
3. PRICE INVESTIGATION: “SURELY SOMEONE HAS IT CHEAPER.”
You have decided to buy the book.
But you are not reckless.
You are a responsible consumer.
So you begin the ancient book-buying ritual of checking multiple stores to determine whether you can save $4.
Hardcover: $28.
Paperback: $18.
Used hardcover: $11.73.
Different seller: $9.84 plus shipping.
Wait.
Does that seller charge shipping?
Open another tab.
Is there a coupon?
Another tab.
Does the publisher have a special edition?
Another tab.
At some point, you have spent 37 minutes attempting to save $3.16.
This is precisely the sort of nonsense BookPriceCheck exists to help with, because apparently we looked at this behavior and thought:
We should build infrastructure.
Eventually, you find the price you want.
You experience the satisfaction of having beaten the system.
You have saved $4.27.
You will now spend that $4.27 on another book.
Warning sign: Your bargain hunting has increased the number of books in your cart.
4. ACQUISITION: “ORDER CONFIRMED.”
You click the button.
There it is.
ORDER CONFIRMED.
A tiny burst of dopamine enters the bloodstream.
The book is yours.
Technically, you do not possess it yet.
But spiritually?
Yours.
You receive an email confirming this.
You read the email even though you already know what it says.
Then comes the tracking number.
Now an entirely different hobby begins.
Package Monitoring.
8:14 AM: In transit.
11:37 AM: Arrived at regional facility.
2:06 PM: Departed regional facility.
Where is it going?
Why did it go there?
That seems farther away.
You develop opinions about logistics networks you knew nothing about yesterday.
Eventually:
OUT FOR DELIVERY.
👀
Nothing else matters now.
5. ARRIVAL: “PACKAGE.”
There is a box on the porch.
You know what is inside the box.
You ordered it.
You tracked its journey across three states.
You received a photograph proving that someone placed it on your porch.
And yet:
PACKAGE.
📦👀
You retrieve it immediately.
Opening a box containing a book you already know you purchased should not be exciting.
It is.
You inspect the cover.
You flip through the pages.
If it is a special edition, you examine the edges from several angles like a jeweler evaluating a gemstone.
You smell the book.
We’re not going to make this weird.
You know you do it.
Then you carry your new acquisition toward the bookshelf.
And encounter a problem.
6. SHELF INTEGRATION: “I CAN MAKE IT FIT.”
There is no room.
None.
The shelf is full.
This does not deter you because you have dealt with this situation before.
You remove twelve books.
You rearrange them by height.
No.
By author.
No.
Maybe the hardcovers go over here.
What if you move that entire series down one shelf?
Twenty minutes later, 46 books are on the floor and you are engaged in what has become a minor home renovation project.
Eventually, the new book fits.
Barely.
You step back.
Perfect.
Except now the shelf above it looks unbalanced.
You fix that too.
At some point, another member of your household walks past and makes the mistake of asking:
“Why don’t you get rid of some books?”
There are moments when relationships are tested.
This is one of them.
You stare at this person.
They leave.
Good.
You return to your work.
Warning sign: You have begun evaluating unused walls for shelving potential.
7. IMMEDIATE RELAPSE: “OH, THAT LOOKS INTERESTING.”
The new book has been purchased.
Delivered.
Admired.
Shelved.
You are satisfied.
Your TBR pile is larger than it was before, but this is Future You’s administrative problem.
You make yourself a promise.
No more books for a while.
You mean it.
You really do.
Then, perhaps later that evening, you open your phone.
Someone has posted:
“If you loved [book you enjoyed], you NEED to read this.”
You pause.
There is a picture.
The cover is beautiful.
You read the description.
Oh.
That does sound interesting.
Maybe you'll just look it up.
You aren't going to buy it.
Obviously.
You merely want additional information.
You open a browser tab.
And somewhere, faintly in the distance, the cycle begins again.
Stage One: Discovery.
♻️📚
THERE IS NO TBR PILE. THERE IS ONLY INVENTORY.
At some point, readers have to accept an uncomfortable truth:
We are probably never going to read every book we want to read.
There are too many books.
New ones keep appearing.
Authors have demonstrated absolutely no willingness to stop writing them.
This is inconsiderate.
So perhaps the goal was never to reach the mythical state of TBR Zero.
Maybe our unread books are simply possibilities waiting on a shelf.
A mystery for when we want a mystery.
A romance for when we need something comforting.
A giant fantasy novel for the weekend when we suddenly decide we're prepared to learn the political structure of three fictional kingdoms.
And yes, occasionally a book we bought four years ago and still fully intend to read.
Eventually.
The important thing is to maintain perspective.
Buy books you’re excited about.
Read the ones you want to read.
Use the library.
Trade books with friends.
Support authors and bookstores when you can.
And when you decide that you absolutely, definitely, unquestionably need another one...
At least compare the prices first.
We know a website. 😏📚
Which stage gets you every time?
Are you vulnerable to the recommendation? The coupon? The special edition? The thrill of the arriving package?
Or have you already reached the advanced stage where you’re shopping for another bookshelf? 🤣