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The value of owning more books than you can read

Neuropsych — October 22, 2018

Or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my tsundoku.

(Photo from Wikimedia)

Key Takeaways

Many readers buy books with every intention of reading them only to let them linger on the shelf.
Statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb believes surrounding ourselves with unread books enriches our
lives as they remind us of all we don't know.
The Japanese call this practice tsundoku, and it may provide lasting benefits.

I love books. If I go to the bookstore to check a price, I walk out with three books I probably didn’t know
existed beforehand. I buy second-hand books by the bagful at the Friends of the Library sale, while
explaining to my wife that it’s for a good cause. Even the smell of books grips me, that faint aroma of
earthy vanilla that wafts up at you when you flip a page.

The problem is that my book-buying habit outpaces my ability to read them. This leads to FOMO and
occasional pangs of guilt over the unread volumes spilling across my shelves. Sound familiar?

But it’s possible this guilt is entirely misplaced. According to statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb, these
unread volumes represent what he calls an “antilibrary,” and he believes our antilibraries aren’t signs of
intellectual failings. Quite the opposite.

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Umberto Eco signs a book. You can see a portion of the author’s vast antilibrary in the background.

(Photo from Wikimedia)

Living with an antilibrary

Taleb laid out the concept of the antilibrary in his best-selling bookThe Black Swan: The Impact of the
Highly Improbable. He starts with a discussion of the prolific author and scholar Umberto Eco, whose
personal library housed a staggering 30,000 books.

When Eco hosted visitors, many would marvel at the size of his library and assumed it represented the
host’s knowledge — which, make no mistake, was expansive. But a few savvy visitors realized the truth:
Eco’s library wasn’t voluminous because he had read so much; it was voluminous because he desired to
read so much more.

Eco stated as much. Doing a back-of-the-envelope calculation, he found he could only read about 25,200
books if he read one book a day, every day, between the ages of ten and eighty. A “trifle,” he laments,
compared to the million books available at any good library.

Drawing from Eco’s example, Taleb deduces:

Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. [Your] library should contain as much of what you do
not know as your financial means, mortgage rates, and the currently tight real-estate market allows you to
put there. You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you grow older, and the growing
number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly. Indeed, the more you know, the

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larger the rows of unread books. Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary. [Emphasis
original]

Maria Popova, whose post at Brain Pickings summarizes Taleb’s argument beautifully, notes that our
tendency is to overestimate the value of what we know, while underestimating the value of what we don’t
know. Taleb’s antilibrary flips this tendency on its head.

The antilibrary’s value stems from how it challenges our self-estimation by providing a constant, niggling
reminder of all we don’t know. The titles lining my own home remind me that I know little to nothing about
cryptography, the evolution of feathers, Italian folklore, illicit drug use in the Third Reich, and whatever
entomophagy is. (Don’t spoil it; I want to be surprised.)

“We tend to treat our knowledge as personal property to be protected and defended,” Taleb writes. “It is
an ornament that allows us to rise in the pecking order. So this tendency to offend Eco’s library sensibility
by focusing on the known is a human bias that extends to our mental operations.”

These selves of unexplored ideas propel us to continue reading, continue learning, and never be
comfortable that we know enough. Jessica Stillman calls this realization intellectual humility.

People who lack this intellectual humility — those without a yearning to acquire new books or visit their
local library — may enjoy a sense of pride at having conquered their personal collection, but such a
library provides all the use of a wall-mounted trophy. It becomes an “ego-booting appendage” for
decoration alone. Not a living, growing resource we can learn from until we are 80 — and, if we are lucky,
a few years beyond.

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Book swap attendees will no doubt find their antilibrary/tsundoku grow.

(Photo from Flickr)

Tsundoku

I love Taleb’s concept, but I must admit I find the label “antilibrary” a bit lacking. For me, it sounds like a
plot device in a knockoff Dan Brown novel — “Quick! We have to stop the Illuminati before they use the
antilibrary to erase all the books in existence.”

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Writing for the New York Times, Kevin Mims also doesn’t care for Taleb’s label. Thankfully, his objection
is a bit more practical: “I don’t really like Taleb’s term ‘antilibrary.’ A library is a collection of books, many
of which remain unread for long periods of time. I don’t see how that differs from an antilibrary.”

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His preferred label is a loanword from Japan: tsundoku. Tsundoku is the Japanese word for the stack(s)
of books you’ve purchased but haven’t read. Its morphology combines tsunde-oku (letting things pile up)
and dukosho (reading books).

The word originated in the late 19th century as a satirical jab at teachers who owned books but didn’t read
them. While that is opposite of Taleb’s point, today the word carries no stigma in Japanese culture. It’s
also differs from bibliomania, which is the obsessive collecting of books for the sake of the collection, not
their eventual reading.

The value of tsundoku

Granted, I’m sure there is some braggadocious bibliomaniac out there who owns a collection comparable
to a small national library, yet rarely cracks a cover. Even so, studies have shown that book ownership
and reading typically go hand in hand to great effect.

One such study found that children who grew up in homes with between 80 and 350 books showed
improved literacy, numeracy, and information communication technology skills as adults. Exposure to
books, the researchers suggested, boosts these cognitive abilities by making reading a part of life’s
routines and practices.

Many other studies have shown reading habits relay a bevy of benefits. They suggest reading can reduce
stress, satisfy social connection needs, bolster social skills and empathy, and boost certain cognitive
skills. And that’s just fiction! Reading nonfiction is correlated with success and high achievement, helps
us better understand ourselves and the world, and gives you the edge come trivia night.

In her article, Jessica Stillman ponders whether the antilibrary acts as a counter to the Dunning-Kruger
effect, a cognitive bias that leads ignorant people to assume their knowledge or abilities are more
proficient than they truly are. Since people are not prone to enjoying reminders of their ignorance, their
unread books push them toward, if not mastery, then at least a ever-expanding understanding of
competence.

“All those books you haven’t read are indeed a sign of your ignorance. But if you know how ignorant you
are, you’re way ahead of the vast majority of other people,” Stillman writes.

Whether you prefer the term antilibrary, tsundoku, or something else entirely, the value of an unread book
is its power to get you to read it.

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