Mariella Hunt

This year, I am doing something that feels unnatural to me. Instead of going out and looking for new books to add to my shelves, I’m going to look at those shelves for books I already own. It is not necessarily in the spirit of anti-consumption, for if I won the lottery, I would still spend all of that money on literature. Rather, it is a matter of wishing to honor the titles that I already own, an effort to try and enjoy them more than once in my lifetime.

For many of us, 2025 was a rough year. If you’re anything like me, books were a source of comfort. When things became heavy, I escaped into cozy mysteries or romances. When craving something more substantial, I had nonfiction to choose from. Plenty of history books wait on my shelves, waiting patiently for their time. Due to the sheer thickness of most of them, it was unfeasible that I could have read them all between January and December,

Every true reader knows that just because we buy the book does not mean the time’s yet right to read it.

Again, this is not anti-consumption or Marie Kondo nonsense. It is true, though, that by the end of the year, I faced a specific crisis. I began to feel overwhelmed when, at the end of 2025, I sat in my room and realized…I couldn’t even find the books that I did want to read. It’s not that I thought I had too many books, because to me that isn’t possible. I only wished that I had a system, or an additional shelf, or photographic memory to offer me aid.

I adore buying new books, but it defeats the purpose of a homemade scholar if I can’t find the book I’m thinking of when I need it. 

For example, I spent half of Sunday looking for a thin book called Tulipomania. I’d been struck by a whim to write about that magical time when, in the Netherlands, tulips were valued like gold. Alas, I still haven’t found that book. I looked into my cedar chest, I checked the back rows on all of my shelves, and even had a glimpse in the garage. 

I know Tulipomania will make its appearance when I no longer have an urgency for it. 

Something pleasant did happen when I was searching for Tulipomania. While digging through my dragon’s-hoard of books, I came upon titles I’d forgotten were in my library. They had been lost in the chaos, so when I picked them up on Sunday, they were like new. I might as well have gone to an eclectic, used bookshop and tossed them all in a shopping basket. 

Therefore, Sunday was not completely fruitless. I kept forgetting that I was searching for Tulipomania. Instead, I made a new, backup TBR pile (which I still probably won’t get to for quite some time).

Now, I must face the sobering reality: If I want to enjoy my library, I can’t keep all the books I’ve stuffed into the corners of my room. I need to sort through my collection and pick the ones I’m most likely going to enjoy in the future. The rest will be donated, as I am sure other people will enjoy them far more than I. 

A few days ago, I filled a box with some YA Fantasy that I enjoyed as a teenager—and donated them. Already, I see an improvement in my room, space-wise! Work remains to be done, however, before I actually find Tulipomania.

This bringss me back to my resolution for 2026. I can’t say that I’m not going to buy any new books, because that’s not realistic. I am going to make an effort to find books I’ve already read. I’m going to sit down with them at my favorite chair and enjoy them once again. 

Years ago, these volumes taught me things about the world, helping to shape me into the woman I am now. How much more can they teach me this year? After all, I have now lived longer, experienced more of life, and I have more perspectives from which to consider these stories.

Until I find Tulipomania, I am reading The Language of Butterflies by Wendy Williams. I’m also reading Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature by Linda Lear and The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The book by Dostoyevsky has already surprised me for its density and wisdom. I’m taking to it with a pencil, hoping the Russian master’s words can shape my own writing style. 

It’s not for nothing that these books earn the title of classic: centuries after publication, they continue to shape literature, immortalizing in the minds of future generations the power that words can have.

Reading past favorites is a sign of loyalty to those books. I’m revisiting old friends, assuring them that I haven’t abandoned them in favor of new publications that might be ‘trendy’ or ‘more relevant.’ 

It’s loyalty to myself: I know that I can reach for a complicated book with confidence. I will find something from within its pages, an idea to equip me for the rest of my life. Choosing the books that I know are my favorites proves I know myself. I am confident in who I am and what I will enjoy. 

For the past decade, the only book I’ve read every year consistently was A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. This year, I’m branching out; this year, I’m taking a deeper dive into more complicated works. These books are often quoted in great speeches, mentioned in school, or referenced in cartoons and other forms of media. 

It is good to honor them in this way, but my desire is to understand, to the best of my ability, the impact these words had on the world at the time of their publication. So, though The Brothers Karamazov is going to be a difficult read, I’ll spend the entire year—longer, if necessary—allowing it to transform me. 

When is the last time that you reread a favorite book? Are you willing to take up the challenge this year, reading a classic that might require more active reading, perhaps even highlighters or a pencil? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!