I’ve finally finished with the European history bookcase and got rid of more than half the books I had. Many were old paperbacks I read for college history classes; heavily marked up, I could only put them in the recycle bin. One book, however, was praised by two history professors I know—they still use it in teaching—so I’m keeping it. It’s titled “The Nazi Seizure of Power: The Experiences of a Single German Town 1930-1935,” and while there are certainly differences between the U.S. now and Germany in 1930, there are unsettling similarities, so perhaps re-reading now could be instructive.
Many of the books on the 1990s wars in former Yugoslavia went to a friend who wrote about Bosnia during the wars, and two books on Czechoslovakia soon after the Velvet Revolution went to another friend who was teaching on a Fulbright in what became Slovakia in 1992, while she was teaching there.
Then I tackled several piles of books that have been haunting me for three or four years now, on the piano bench, on the guest room bed, on a file cabinet. Most of them are now in two carts, and when the weather is less hot and humid, I’ll walk them down to the thrift shop. What a relief that will be.
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I would love to have seen these books in their old case, and the way you capture it in words gives me a glimpse into what it must have been like (and preserves the memory for you, too). My favorite line: "on the piano bench, on the guest room bed, on a file cabinet" paired with the verb "haunting" stands in stark contrast to the word "relief" in the last line. It sounds like you are ready to let them go.
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