#23. Selling books

also The English, Algorithmic Injustice, The Destroyer of Worlds, bubble and squeak

Hello!

I’ve had a satisfying week because we submitted a CastRooms funding application to Creative Catalyst. Writing up a single compelling narrative of our work has been satisfying and super-useful as we turn to pitching investors.

Also had a walk in the Olympic Park sunshine with Mark and Ella. It’s the second week in a row that I got out to see people-that-I-know-through-work after having lunch with Anna and Eliot last week. Having slightly random work-ish conversations with friends is something I lost during the pandemic without realising. I’ve missed it. If you fancy meeting up for lunch or a coffee or a walk hit me up?

Trying to get this one out before the weekend. Still not quite figured out the right pattern for writing and posting these. Little-and-often is my only heuristic.

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Selling books

I spent last week going through books from my loft and selling them. It’s been a cathartic experience. If not a wildly profitable one.

It’s been cathartic because I’ve got a deep relationship with books. My mum didn’t let us have a TV until I was 14 so books were my entertainment. I studied a bookful subject at university - history - which was one big reading list. When I switched to be a designer I did this by reading every book about design I could get my hands on.

But that deep relationship changed. I stopped reading fiction books in my 20s and when I restarted in my 30s it morphed into Kindle and then audiobooks. I haven’t had a reading list for academic study for nearly 25 years. And in switching careers to be a product manager it’s not been books that have guided me this time around.

The one lingering connection is aesthetic. I grew up in a house with books spilling off shelves and piled up on the floor. Multicoloured spines have always been decoration. Texture. Colour. Pattern. At our flat in Haringey I made floating shelves with my friend Jeff to hold the books I loved most. I know people see this as ostentatious smugness - fair enough! - but for me these books also felt like chapters from my life.

Then in 2016 we left Haringey and the floating shelves. Sadface.

The books got boxed into the loft until “after the renovation”. We didn’t renovate for years. And now, six years later, my books are out of sync with my life. I switched to Kindle and audiobooks and the books just…stopped. New shelves would be partial, incomplete. (Sometimes I even daydream about buying loved Kindle books as physical copies to keep the illusion going! Absurd.)

So, long after my reading habits changed, I’ve let go of my lingering aesthetic too. Our renovated space won’t have rows of battered books for texture, colour, pattern. I’ve had to figure out what else might do that job (hello tiles?) and develop a new aesthetic. This has been tricky. But also kind of fun once I accepted and embraced it.

So last week I found myself scanning and sorting books into piles for WeBuyBooks, Sellitback and Ziffit (prices vary wildly across all three so multiple scans is the way).

It made me sad to let these chapters of my past go. But I’m happy that I’ve noticed a different thing. In emptying and refilling my loft I’ve spotted that I operate with two fundamentally incompatible behaviours. On the one hand I keep all sorts of things - books, music equipment, keepsakes - to return to in the future. On the other hand - now that I’ve lived in this ‘future’ - I’ve realised that I never do return to the past.

It just takes time for me to let things go. Not just books. Habits that once helped but now hinder. Friendships that formed before lives diverged. Beliefs that felt immovable until new stories and evidence showed up to change my mind. As I move through my 40s it feels like this breaking-and-remaking only gets more important. I don’t want to get stuck as any version of myself. I’m not quite sure why that’s so important to me?

Finally, just in case you think I’ve got monstrous resolve, I should be clear that I haven’t sold ALL my books. Some were just too painful to let go. For now anyway :)

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Watching

I’m a sucker for the vast American landscapes and unmoored physical morality of a Western so I just loved The English with Emily Blunt and Chaske Spencer. Beautiful and unusual storytelling throughout. And Rafe Spall emerging halfway through gave me Blood Meridian vibes in the best way. Modern Westerns ftw.

Reading

Caroline recommended Algorithmic injustice: a relational ethics approach by Abeba Birhane after I asked for things to read around the current wave of AI tools. It’s so interesting to read and the framing of “rationality” versus “relationality” is new to me.

Listening

The Destroyer of Worlds - from Dan Carlin’s Hardcore Histories - is a comprehensive account of the rise of nuclear weapons and some of the associated political impact throughout the 20th century. The Cuban Missile Crisis passages in particular are the first time I’ve properly felt - rather than learned - how edgy that situation was. And, frankly, just how brave JFK had to be to stand up to his military leaders.

Eating

Made bubble and squeak for lunch yesterday. Sometimes the classics are the classics.

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OK. Done for another week. Off to celebrate Esther’s birthday today with us and then more celebration with friends over the weekend. Rituals to carry us through winter.

Will

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