The books still waiting

Text A: an original contemporary practice extract.

The unread books on my shelf are not arranged as accusations. One concerns a city I hope to visit; another describes birds I cannot yet recognise. I bought the bird book after seeing a small brown shape disappear into the hedge and realising that small and brown were the limits of my vocabulary. It is still waiting for a proper afternoon.

I sometimes take it down and read two pages. The books I have finished do not seem offended by this unfinished company. A shelf can hold intentions as well as achievements. I enjoy knowing that an interest has somewhere to begin without needing to begin it this week. Not every purchase has been wise, but not every delayed reading is a failed purchase either.

Space and money put limits on this pleasure, as they should. I borrow books when I want to try an unfamiliar subject, and I pass some on. The remaining unread volumes give my room a few open doors. I need not walk through all of them to value their being there. Yesterday, I identified the brown bird from a picture. The proper afternoon is still ahead; one small part of it has already arrived.

Text B: an original contemporary practice extract.

I used to buy books for the person I expected to become next month. That person was always more energetic than the reader who came home tired on Friday. A history of an unfamiliar city, three long novels and a guide to an instrument I did not own accumulated beside the books I actually wanted to open. I admired the ambition and avoided the shelf.

Eventually, I put the unread pile on the table and asked which interests still belonged to me. Several did. Others belonged to a passing conversation or an attractive cover. I kept the first group and gave away the second. Losing those objects did not make me less curious. It made curiosity less crowded with evidence of former plans.

I am not proposing a rule that every book must be finished before another enters the house. Browsing and changing direction are part of reading. But owning an opportunity is different from wanting it, and buying another can postpone noticing that difference. My smaller shelf is not a scoreboard of completion. It is a place I can approach without first meeting a more accomplished imaginary version of myself.

Compare how the writers present their ideas and perspectives about owning unread books. Support your comparisons with detailed references to both texts.