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As I pulled down volumes to make the initial cut, I came across some of the first history books I ever purchased, back around 1964: Herodotus, Tacitus, and Plutarch. I hadn't read them in over four decades, but they remained on my shelves, dusty testimonies to the pedagogical genius of a high school history teacher, Charles Cahill, who sold me on history with his love of ancient Greece and Rome. How proud I was as a high schooler to own those books! Then there was a miscellany of undergraduate texts, graduate school-era monographs, and volumes supporting various classes I've taught over the years in American history, military-naval history, the history of philosophy and the philosophy of history, historiography, and science and religion.
I found myself noting little things. Those paperbacks I bought in the 1960s were so cheap—50 cents for Herodotus; 90 cents for Tacitus. Books from my student years have a simple Don Yerxa scribbled on the title page. Books purchased when I was a young historian often have bookplates with my name typed in. Finally—it must have been after I received tenure— an embossed seal proudly announced a book's inclusion in the Library of Donald A. Yerxa. I thought I detected a parallel trajectory with bookmarks: old slips of yellowed paper being replaced by nice leather markers from historic sites and universities in the UK or elaborate metallic markers of various design, some quite intricate. But I also came across a bunch of garish Amazon.com bookmarks from the late 1990s, when they would send them with every purchase. The existence of so many bookmarks signals that I failed to finish a lot of books I began to read with good intentions. Did I give up on John Buckley's Air Power in the Age of Total War because I disliked the book, or was I simply distracted by some other title or project? I used to keep a reading journal listing every book I read. But my "rules" stipulated that I had to read them cover to cover in order for them to be included. After sixteen years, I stopped keeping record last year. What's the point?
And then there were the far-too-many books I bought that remained virginal. Some I put off so long that their topics no longer interested me. Charles Tilly's Big Structures, Large Processes, and Huge Comparisons is a good example. I didn't give up on all the unread volumes, of course. Some would travel to Florida with me, where I hoped to finally complete Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/ Maturin series—I stalled out around volume #7. I wasn't sure what to do, however, with gift books from people I care about. Very thoughtful gifts at the time, but will I have room for them in my new digs? And what to do with those books with personal inscriptions by the authors?
I began to notice a pattern in the kinds of books I found myself inclined to keep. Historical narratives, works of fiction, and spiritual classics top my list, along with necessary reference works. I find that a good story, be it historical or fictional, is of far more interest to me at this stage of life than more analytical works. I made exceptions, however, in the few subject areas where I still have aspirations to do some writing. So Page Smith's multi-volume People's History of the United States, Michael D. O'Brien's Island of the World, and various editions of the Philokalia will join FrankAnkersmit's Sublime Historical Experience, Dipesh Chakrabarty's Provincializing Europe, and Penelope Corfield's Time and the Shape of History on the trip to Florida.
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