When I first started to pack my things to move to New York, I knew my books were going to be a problem. I had a lot because every book, even if I hadn’t read it in years, held sentimental value and I couldn’t bare to toss any of them out. But New York was going to be different from Missouri, Florida, and Colorado. There was going to be a lot less space for all my memories, so I needed to make space for new ones. I donated half of my books and yet they still took up the most space in all of my boxes that I planned to ship. I had a delusional thought in my brain that I would be able to make things work, even though I had yet to lay eyes on the apartment I was moving into properly. And the delusion kind of worked out and kind of didn’t. In the sense that my roommates didn’t mind me shoving my books into any available space.
I had windows, my roommate’s empty wine shelf, and a nightstand, so I shoved my books anywhere they would fit. Only after living in my apartment for around two years did I ever get around to getting a bookshelf.
This is just a small sample of my bookshelf. I keep my bookshelf out in the living room, and it holds a mixture of the theory books I gathered during my degree in Ethnic Studies as well as poetry and fiction. My top shelf holds the books I return to the most, both in poetry and non-fiction. I normally return to these books for inspiration like Hybrida by Tina Chang or Sassafrass, Cypress, and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, or for guidance like Revolutionary Mothering and Radical Dharma.
The rest of my bookshelf is fiction that I consider either on my “to read” or “to reread” and is organized by the spine. Outside of poetry, the majority of my books are fiction with a memoir or two sprinkled in. I gravitate towards queer love stories, fantasy, and family narratives. Malindo Lo is one of my favorite Lesbian fiction authors. A book I’ve beat to death that’s not fiction is Catherine Hardwicke’s Director’s Notebook for Twilight. I’m a cinephile and a Twilight stan and it was her work as a director on that film that made me want to work in film. One of my dreams is to one day write and shoot my own movie.
The books that I keep in my room are organized by what I call sentimental chaos. I say sentimental chaos because in general, I tend to be a mood reader who will return to familiar books time and time again.
The rules for the organization of my nightstand books are actively rereading/or actively just starting. I keep all my library books here as well as the books I draw up on when I need to feel grounded. I just finished rereading All About Love and Their Eyes Were Watching God (my favorite book). Currently working on my Lighting Thief reread as well as starting Lesbian Death. For poetry, I just started Worldly Things by Michael Kleber-Diggs.
In my window, I keep my journals and copies of my favorite manga series, Skip Beat, as well as books I either return to often or am working through on a recommendation. I like to keep these in my window for comfort. Skip Beat was a series that grew with me from childhood into my adulthood. I draw inspiration and comfort from the characters within those pages, and so even if I’m not actively reading them, they’re always by my side.
Zora Satchell is a Black and Chinese American queer poet and cinephile who writes about mental illness, film, family, and friendship. She holds a degree in Ethnic Studies from Colorado State University. She was awarded the Brooklyn Poets Fellowship for winter/spring 2021. She lives on the border of Brooklyn and Queens and tweets from @zora_thee_pony.
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