Shelf Esteem is a weekly measure of the books on the shelves of writers, editors, and other word lovers, as told to Emily M. Keeler. This week’s shelf belongs Chuck Klosterman, the New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist and the author of seven books, including Fargo Rock City and Sex, Drugs, and Coco Puffs. Klosterman shares a Brooklyn apartment with his wife; his office is cluttered but clean, the living room is very bright, and features—beside the bookshelves—a large painting of an elephant, which Klosterman described as his most prized possession.
In the living room are some of my books, and some of my wife’s books. Of course, these are the books people see the most. So there’s always the question, are you going to put books in your living room that will somehow suggest to other people this is what I’m like as a person? I don’t know, but I think we have unconsciously done that, to be honest. We’ve put books up there that have brought people to say things like, Oh, you’ve read that as well? And then we’ll have conversations about it.
This picture here is something my wife got for me for my birthday. She commissioned an artist to paint a Mountain Dew reading a copy of a book of mine that hasn’t been published yet. I don’t really get it, but I like it.
My own books are mixed in with these books, so I guess I have this partial fear that the photographs are gonna make it seem like I go around collecting my own books. But there’s nowhere else to put them! I mean, that’s a good question, this is something that you should find from other people you do this with. What is the protocol for storing your own books? I don’t know where you’re supposed to put them! I just put ‘em in there. And sometimes—there’s one of my books that I don’t have a copy of, so what, do I go buy it? Do I not buy it, because in theory I should just know what’s in it? I don’t have a copy of Sex, Drugs, and Coco Puffs. Partially because I know that they’re easy to get. So if anybody ever wants it, I just give it to them, and now I’ve given them all away. I can’t imagine going back to read it. I would never want to read it again! But then, at the same time, it’s crazy not to own something that I—I don’t know what to do, you know?!
