Through the Wardrobe: The Book Nook

Here at Whiskers on Kittens, I do not often elaborate about our home projects. Suffice it to say, there is always a project of some sort going on in our home, whether it’s readying the garden beds for the spring/summer planting, preparing our seedlings, weeding (a never-ending task on par with Hercules and his Augean Stables), tending to the pH level of our pond, minor bathroom updates, Spring cleaning, everyday cooking… you see, the tasks do tend to mount. 

However, there is one small project my dear husband did recently that I must highlight. And, since I believe many of you, dear readers, are bibliophiles like me, I think you will enjoy it.

One of the things any true book lover bemoans is that they infrequently have enough space for their book collection. After asking a few bibliophiles I know, the consensus is there is never enough shelf space for the books we love. 

When we moved from New York City to Tennessee, we put our capacious library in boxes to transport. Remarkably, over a decade later, many of those books remained in those boxes, stored where they were accessible- somewhat. Each box was labeled with the contents, so if a book was needed, we could find it. However, this was never meant to be a permanent solution. Furthermore, it was annoying to heft boxes up and down to find a single book for reference or reading. 

In our home, through a closet, there is a small storage space beneath the stairs. It was being used to store out boxed books. One evening I mentioned to my husband that it was most irritating to get at my books. Certainly I did have shelves for some books, but when you have the huge collection passed on through familial generations that I do, two double door floor to ceiling bookcases are just not enough. 

Enter my engineering husband. I made a flippant remark about how I thought the space where the books were would offer my space if we simply lined the walls with shelves, and a couple of schematic sketches later, we were on our way to the lumber yard for supplies.

Now, this little niche is truly little. You cannot stand up in it. Correction: my three year old son can just barely stand up in it. But we larger persons can not. The staircase in our home is split. The first short flight leads to a landing and out the front door. The second flight leads from the landing to the second floor. It is below this landing where this little space is squirreled away. Access to the space is only available through a wardrobe- a thing which I delight in as it is a physical manifestation of a great literary allusion.

With supplies in hand, it took my husband, with my occasional help, two days to build me what we have affectionately called The Book Nook. 

A brief video showing you my little Book Nook. Enjoy!

Once the shelves were in place, we laid a congoleum floor and rolled out an Oriental carpet we had in the attic. Then the truly pleasurable part commenced. I unboxed fifteen boxes worth of books. I cleaned them properly using Absorene book cleaner, a dirt eraser, and, when necessary, a delicate touch of soap and water. Then I shelved them in their new home. 

When all the books were in their proper place, which took a sublime day or two to complete, I looked over them and came to a realization. My library is one of legacy. Within it are books that have been collected through the generations from both sides of my family. 

Many of the books come from my mother’s side of the family. Her Grandmother, my great-grandmother, Caroline Kedrovich, emigrated to America from Czechoslovakia (what would be the Czech Republic) near the turn of the last century with her sister. She was only seventeen years old and did not speak a word of English. She married another Czechoslovakian man in Brooklyn and that is where she raised her family. When my Nana was old enough to go to school, she did not speak English. She struggled learning it. One of her teachers told her, Katherine, you must read to learn to speak. This lesson is one that she carried throughout the whole of her life. Nana learned to read and write impeccably because she read voraciously. And, she shared that lesson with her mother, too. 

In my library are books that bear my Nana’s hand, her name penned in beautiful cursive in the front of the book jacket. Thanks to her and her mother, I have a lot of first editions with their original dust jackets- To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone with the Wind, True Grit, The Caine Mutiny, Anthony Adverse, All This and Heaven Too, The Keys of the Kingdom, and From Here to Eternity to name a few. Many of the books are no longer in print, which makes them more of a treasure. 

Then there are the books that my father’s father collected. To say nothing of his grandfather. From my grandfather, a man I was never fortunate to know in this life as he died when I father was only a teenager, I inherited the Britannica’s 54 volume Great Books of the World which contain a many notable philosophers, poets, and playwrights of Western Civilization. Colonel Ben, my great-grandfather, contributed many classics as well such as several first edition Zane Gray novels. Colonel Ben was such a notable man during his life- serving with distinction during both World Wars as well as a civic worker after the war- that he actually appears in the 1960 volume of Who’s Who in the West, another book that sits proudly on its shelf. (He also played polo with Leslie Howard, who played The Scarlet Pimpernel- a book held in high esteem in my library. You can read more about it in this post.) Then there is my grandmother’s contribution which is particularly dear: her well-loved, well-read bibles- in German and in English, embossed with her name, Olivia.

Then there are the books that my mother and father collected. They are here, too. Art books, biblical reference books, dictionaries, and other tomes of import. However, there is my father’s much loved and somewhat battered copy of Lord of the Rings or my mother’s Lust for Life about Vincent van Gogh to name two. There are so many more.

Then there are the books my husband and I bring. Beside my many volumes dedicated to art history in all its forms from specific artists to whole art movements sit my husband’s Modern Mariner Engineering Manuals and Dutton’s Nautical Navigation. Then there are the many novels so dear to me- from Koontz to Raybouorn, Willig to White, Alexander to Moran, Austen to Dickens; they now have a home. My paperbacks are on smaller shelves, but in no less a place of honor, right alongside my husband’s non-fiction works that vary from Format’s Enigma to Tesla’s life to Einstein’s Inventions. 

And then there are the children’s books. Many of them come from my youth. I remember having them read to me or reading them myself. And now, they have their own place, easily accessible, for my son to get to them. He loves to be read to so much and now that all the books are out of their boxes, he’s constantly bringing me new ones to read. Right now we’re enjoying the Angelina Ballerina collects (all hardbound first editions with dust jacket- Thank you, Aunt Jill). 

What I love so much about my Book Nook is the history that resides on the shelves. Not just the history within the pages, which I do prize, but the history of the hands that held those books, too. They have a story of their own. 

Before my husband made me this Book Nook, where I sit and write this post now as it doubles as a fantastic writing space, I found myself saying things like, we have too many books or we need to pare them down. I am glad I did not give in to that emotion. Now that they have a proper place and I see them, I realize that they are dear to me because they not only house stories I have read or wish to read in the future, but because they bring me closer to people who are no longer on this earth. There is a kinship found here with them no matter how long ago they left. 

This is why a library is important. Certainly it contains books that have touched us throughout our lives. However, it should contain stories, too. From your heritage. This can not always be the case, I understand, as libraries are sometimes left behind in other countries when people immigrate or split up between family members or donated. But, if you can, while you build your collection, give thought to books you remember your parents or grandparents or other relatives talking about. If you can, visit used bookshops and see if they have copies that you can add to your library. Recall the books read to you as a child and begin to collect the ones you remember with fondness. Build a library that speaks to your personal history, that tells the children or grandchildren in your future about the person you are. Pass that on. It is a heritage that should not be forgotten.