My bookshelves are smaller than they used to be, and they will be smaller again next year. This is intentional. I am, slowly, building a library of only the books that are still doing work.

The rule is unsentimental: if I haven't opened a book in two years, it leaves. There's no penalty for the book — most go to friends, a few to a local exchange — and there's no flag of failure on me. The rule simply observes that the book and I have parted ways, and a book that's not on the shelf is more honest about that than a book that is.

What survives:

• The handful I re-read in seasons.
• The reference books I actually open. Almost all of these are old.
• Three or four totemic objects that I keep for irrational reasons. The rule allows for these; they're labeled in my head as not-pretending.

What I've come to appreciate is the quietness of a small shelf. A wall of books whispers to you all the things you should be reading and aren't. A shelf of two dozen books, each of which you've actually used, says nothing. It just sits there. You can think.

I don't recommend the rule for everyone. It only works if you've made peace with the fact that books are tools, not trophies. For a long time I hadn't.

Related: A year of reading less, writing more, Writing in the margins.

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