Embracing Tsundoku: Building an Antilibrary as a Gateway to Infinite Knowledge

The allure of Tsundoku, a delightful Japanese term describing the tendency to acquire books and let them accumulate unread, has been a constant in my life. The guilt associated with owning unread books, contrasting with the pride derived from my read book ratio, echoes a familial struggle between my father and mother over a vast library that dominated our apartment.

The interval between finishing a book and reflecting on its application in life significantly influences my choice of reading material and book acquisitions. However, a shift in perspective occurred as I delved into the writings of Anne Laure Le Cunff on building an antilibrary and Maria Papova's exploration of its significance.

In essence, an antilibrary represents a private collection of unread books, a concept first introduced by Lebanese-American scholar Nassim Nicholas Taleb in his book "The Black Swan." Taleb illustrates this concept through the unique relationship Italian writer Umberto Eco had with his extensive collection of thirty thousand books.

"The writer Umberto Eco belongs to that small class of scholars who are encyclopedic, insightful, and nondull. He is the owner of a large personal library (containing thirty thousand books), and separates visitors into two categories: those who react with “Wow! Signore professore dottore Eco, what a library you have! How many of these books have you read?”* and the others—a very small minority—who get the point that?a private library is not an ego-boosting appendage but a research tool. Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. The 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 larger the rows of unread books.?Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary"

As Nassim Nicholas Taleb puts it: “We tend to treat our knowledge as personal property to be protected and defended. 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. People don’t walk around with anti-résumés telling you what they have not studied or experienced (it’s the job of their competitors to do that), but it would be nice if they did. Just as we need to stand library logic on its head, we will work on standing knowledge itself on its head.”

The analogy between an antilibrary and an anti-resumé is intriguing, shifting the reference point from what you have learned or achieved to the vast universe of things yet to be explored. This perspective may initially evoke anxiety, as the task of reading all the books or acquiring all the skills seems insurmountable. However, with time and understanding, a liberating realization emerges – there is an endless universe of knowledge waiting to be discovered.

This thought is humbling, offering assurance that the journey of learning is ongoing. It keeps me hungry, curious, and always on the lookout for new ideas. As I embark on building my antilibrary, I recognize that it extends beyond books to encompass movies, songs, places to travel, and life experiences. Embracing Tsundoku and cultivating an antilibrary becomes a pathway to intellectual growth, a constant reminder that no matter what I know or do, an expansive realm of knowledge lies ahead, waiting to be explored.