Hey Reader,

Ten years ago, I put my bookcases in storage.

Wrapped, taped, tucked away like they might someday return to the life I had back then.

This summer, they finally came home.

The wood was dry but unharmed. Protected, not forgotten. I spent days rubbing them with lemon oil—letting the wood drink it in. The scent, the shine, the depth of color. Honestly? It made me hesitate to even put books on them.

Almost.

Because what came next was the part I didn't expect to enjoy: sorting through more than 100 books I hadn't touched in a decade.

📚 The Story Test

Some I'd read. Some I'd always meant to. Some made me ask: Why did I buy this in the first place?

But the ones that stayed? I could tell you stories.

A giant book from Orval Faubus—the Arkansas governor who sent troops to block Black students from entering Little Rock Central in 1957. He once mailed me a copy, unrequested, with a handwritten invoice.

Two books my uncle wrote about his time in Vietnam—signed and finally found after years of searching through boxes.

An E.B. White biography gifted by two newsroom friends who told me not to get into TV news. (I did anyway.)

All four volumes of Caro's LBJ series, well-worn from years of reading and rereading.

By the third box, I realized something: If I couldn't tell you a story about it, I didn't need to keep it.

🗺️ Your Shelves Are a Map

These shelves aren't just storage. They're a map. A timeline. A mirror.

And now that they're full again—with fewer books, but more meaning—I walk into the room and feel it: I know who lives here.

This isn't about Marie Kondo-ing your collection or proving you're a "real reader" by what you keep. It's about recognizing that the books around you tell your story—not someone else's "must-read" list.

The self-help books that never quite fit? Let them go.

The classics you bought to seem impressive? They can leave too.

But that battered paperback that saved you during a rough summer? The cookbook your grandmother annotated? The thriller you reread every few years just because?

Those earned their spot.

💭 A Question for Your Weekend

What's one book on your shelf that could tell someone a story about you?

(You don't have to answer. But maybe run your finger along your shelf this weekend and see what speaks up.)

—Tracy

P.S. I know it's been a minute since you heard from me. I've been in a writing cohort with my friend Matt Ragland—and the next few newsletters are scheduled. We're back to a weekly rhythm. 💪🏻

If you want to support this newsletter (and the lemon oil budget for future bookcase adventures), here's my tip jar. Consider it a high-five with dollars. 😅

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