4 Reasons Why My TBR Pile Might Kill Me

It’s not hard to keep a TBR list. Anyone can make a Goodreads account and click the green “want to read” button or keep a handwritten list in their bullet journal. What takes a little more commitment and a lot more space is a physical TBR stack. This is where I find myself now, with a more than three-foot (Yes, I measured) pile of books taller than my nightstand next to my bed. With the paltry shelves of the actual furniture long full, I’ve expanded to the floor.

The Highest Peak of Book Mountain

My TBR stack was created by the following four-pronged fact attack and because of this it will mostly likely tumble over and bury me in a pile of unread books:


1. I have a relentlessly positive attitude. I always overestimate how much free-time I have to devote to reading. Relatedly, as an extrovert, I rarely turn down any invitations that take me away from my apartment and my TBR stack and into the outside world. While Shonda Rhimes had her Year of Yes, I really need a year of no to make time for all the books I want to read.

2. Quality book recommendations abound! It’s so easy to find lists of good books recommended by people I trust. Since my friends know I like to read, they often pepper me with enthralling titles. Many newsletters arrive in my inbox each week and I never leave clickbait headlines such as “50 Amazing Mysteries You Can’t Live Without” unclicked. If I don’t click, I might miss out on my new favorite book!

3. It’s just too easy to buy cheap books these days. If I see the one penny (plus $3.99 shipping) option on Amazon for an interesting book on a just read click-bait list, I am doomed. That book is as good as the newest book to earn the coveted top of the TBR stack spot, a temporary position until the next book arrives. Used bookstores are also one of my favorite places to spend time.

4. I love to get mail. There is almost no small joy as delicious as many padded envelopes falling out of the mailbox. Each yellow bubble mailer is stuffed with the promise of relaxation and escape and I’m addicted to the possibility of what is inside. (Yes, even though I ordered it and ostensibly should know what it is already.)

The combination of these deadly truths has created the large problem occupying about 3 cubic feet of my 600 square foot apartment. Sure, the pile occasionally topples. It’s precarious. This lets me rearrange the order and gives those near the bottom a chance to ascend again. One day it might fall on me while I sleep.

Examining the pile is almost seeing a geologic cross section. The strata indicate my interests over time. At the base you can see four different versions of The Christmas Carol from Mickey Mouse to Marvel Zombie versions from when I was comparing the Bob Cratchit character in each, but never completed my study. In the middle, I see one of the last books my uncle read before he died and it’s one I’ve started many times but can’t finish because of the reason it’s there. Freshly placed like new topsoil are two new YA titles purchased with a gift certificate and some penny books gleaned from a list of YA in verse (Thanks a lot Book Riot!)

How much taller will it get? Probably not much. Usually around this height, I enact a temporary “NO NEW BOOKS” rule and read 12-18 inches of the stack before I fold and a new interest takes hold and I purchased 3-4 new titles to quench my thirst and the cycle starts anew. Also, at the insistence of my friend Z, I have purchased a new small shelf and started to cull the herd.

Will it ever disappear? Probably not. Sometimes I pull one from the middle and while I might never get back to those Christmas Carols on the bottom, they make a solid base. It’s a permanent part of my home decor and secretly I like it.