Is the discovery that other people have a word for the accumulation of unread books really enough to make the attached anxiety melt away?
I'm the grandchild of librarians on both sides, and I've had the urge to archive and catalogue and preserve and retain for my whole life. It's crippling. There's a perverse illusion buried in the need to collect and archive books and possessions. I wish the author could have done more than scratch the surface for me!