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Eve has a problem with clutter. Too much stuff and too easily acquired, it confronts her in every corner and on every surface in her house. When she pledges to tackle the worst offender, her horror of a "Hell Room," she anticipates finally being able to throw away all of the unnecessary things she can't bring herself to part with: her fifth-grade report card, dried-up art supplies, an old vinyl raincoat.
But what Eve discovers isn't just old CDs and outdated clothing, but a fierce desire within herself to hold on to her identity. Our things represent our memories, our history, a million tiny reference points in our lives. If we throw our stuff in the trash, where does that leave us? And if we don't...how do we know what's really important?
Everyone has their own Hell Room, and Eve's battle with her clutter, along with her eventual self-clarity, encourages everyone to dig into their past to declutter their future. Year of No Clutter is a deeply inspiringâ??and frequently hilarious â?? examination of why we keep stuff in the first place, and how to let it all… (more)
I kind of loved how the author realized where she was on the hoarder scale and the work she did to let go of things. I also appreciated how she knows she’ll never be a minimalist but did work toward small change; she was very funny in her self-awareness. ( )
The year of no clutter takes you into a journey with the author and her goal to get rid of clutter from the hell room. At times you might see yourself reflected on the author's way of thinking or habits and go: "I know right?" or "guiltyyyyy". Other times you might find yourself denying any similitude with your life. But as you keep reading you'll find her journey refreshing, inspiring and a good lesson for getting rid of clutter and taking the first step into a more satisfying life. I really enjoyed her sense of humor, the whole book felt like a friend telling me her adventures in great detail. ( )
Author's tale of a year spent "cleaning up" her "hell room" -- junk room. Self indulgent, repetitious, and boring. Doesn't work as a self-help book, nor as a riviting narrative. The author's research/musings on hoarding are somewhat interesting, hence the two stars. ( )
In this true story, Eve lives with her husband and two daughters. Her house is cluttered, with piles of stuff seeping into almost every room. But Eve's biggest secret is "the Hell room", a room so full that you can not see the floor. Eve decides to start a "year of no clutter," where she will dedicate herself to clearing out the hell room.
So right off the bat, it felt like Eve's progress was very slow. Although not quite to the level of people on the "hoarder" tv shows, Eve feels a deep connection to everything in her house and finds it hard to let go. She talks us through her thought processes, and slowly she learns that it is ok to not keep everything you own.
Eve's father is a hoarder, and during the year she goes to his house to help him get ready for a cross country move. Seeing everything that he keeps, that she sees as "junk" helps her in her quest. She begins to take a closer look at the things she is keeping in her own life.
When I first saw this book, I thought it would be more of a self help guide, to help me deal with clutter. Really, this is a personal memoir, about one woman's struggle. There are some interesting points the reader can take away, and I do feel mildly inspired to tackle some of my problem areas in my house. If you are looking for advice, you might want to look elsewhere. This book was fun to read and I enjoyed the look into one woman's life.
I received a free ARC from NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review. ( )
I love my wife. I really love my wife. Okay. So now that I have gotten that out of the way, let me go where no husband with any common sense should ever go and talk about my wife's big hidden problem...clutter.
Quotations
Although I have yet to figure out what drives my compulsion to save, I know this much: it is the thought of making a bad decision, one that I will some day regret, that keeps me up at night.
The mudroom porch around back was not so much crowded as it was blockaded, stuffed right up to hip level with an enormous pile of random objects. Standing sentry just before it stood an overstuffed blue La-Z-Boy right on the grass. Altogether, it didn't look like the entryway to a house as much as it resembled an especially cozy corner of the local landfill. Beyond, I could just glimpse the crazy topography of objects that we had come to see. It went on in every direction inside the house like sand in the desert.
"Look at that!" she said triumphantly. "That looks great!" And it really did. Sure, we still had miles to go, but the brand-new art corner was as neat and organized as Howard Hughes's cuff-link collection. "I feel very in charge now, do you know what I mean?" she asked me. I did. Why is it so soothing to walk past an array of well-organized objects? And why is it so particularly satisfying if you are the one who has done the organizing?
Wow! I was beyond impressed with her ability to appreciate the memory an object conjures while almost in the same breath letting that object go. So here's what I wanted to know: how does she do that?
Looking around my house that summer day, I realized that a large part of the problem at hand was what my friend Brian calls the Rubik's Cube effect, which is to say there was a series of object orchestrations that had to take place in a particular order: without the first thing happening first, nothing else can happen; everything comes to a standstill.
So I guess what we hoard says an awful lot about us and what we're afraid of.
If hoarding is born of fear, then it would be logical to ask myself: what am I afraid of?
Consequently objects have become my crutch of choice, helping me to recall things I never would otherwise. I'm always shocked by the things that objects can bring back into my mind with vivid clarity, which I otherwise am certain would have been forgotten entirely. As if they never even happened.
If this were a late-night advertisement, this would be the part where the announcer enthuses, "But wait, there's more!" Yes, I get two fears for the price of one neurosis. It is the idea of need. I worry that someday I will need this thing, and my life, my happiness, will in some way depend upon it.
The girls and I each kept remarking in an admiring way at "how much like a real room" it was starting to look, which struck me as funny, as if we were complimenting a dog wearing a hat on how much a real person he looked.
Which has brought me to a third mantra to add to my collection: "Keep less. Use more."
From the beginning of our project, Steve had steadfastly maintained that he had "nothing" in the Hell Room. However, for some time now Greta and I had been discovering the true scope of that nothing, and it was rather impressive. Like sand dunes moving silently across the desert, objects and boxes and random items had been wafting steadily out of the Hell Room and into the poor, innocent Hallway Room, blocking it up, climbing the walls, at times obstructing the passageway altogether. Virtually all of it was Steve's Stuff, awaiting final judgment.
I decided that if we ever even think we have bedbugs the only sensible thing to do will be to abandon our house like a sinking ship, flinging clothing off, shrieking and shaving our heads as we go.
"So today, I gratefully accept what people want to give. And I gratefully accept if people do not want to give. I make an effort to use the gift, but if after that it isn't something that fits into my life then I put it in the box for the Salvation Army."
...but I was simply stuck. Thwarted by the fact that everything has to be perfect. Perfect can be very destructive, you know.
Finally, I had to admit: life is imperfect. I'm imperfect. I had arrived at my fourth mantra: "Be imperfect."
When I think of spring, I tend to think of beautiful, sunshiny days. These are the days when the snowdrops and daffodils are just beginning to peek above the ground and hope seems to be riding into town on a cool breeze. But this was not that kind of spring.
I attempt not to give the shredder a nervous breakdown.
I'm part of the way there, to Kondo's land of the immaculate, joy-sparking place, but I also know that I will forever be an exile to that land. I can get on the bus that is supposed to go there as much as I like, but I will forever be taking weird, unexpected detours at the last minute. Because I'm the kind of person who keeps her daughter's fallen-off fingernail in a box.
Important. It's all terribly important. Until suddenly, one day, it isn't.
Eve has a problem with clutter. Too much stuff and too easily acquired, it confronts her in every corner and on every surface in her house. When she pledges to tackle the worst offender, her horror of a "Hell Room," she anticipates finally being able to throw away all of the unnecessary things she can't bring herself to part with: her fifth-grade report card, dried-up art supplies, an old vinyl raincoat.
But what Eve discovers isn't just old CDs and outdated clothing, but a fierce desire within herself to hold on to her identity. Our things represent our memories, our history, a million tiny reference points in our lives. If we throw our stuff in the trash, where does that leave us? And if we don't...how do we know what's really important?
Everyone has their own Hell Room, and Eve's battle with her clutter, along with her eventual self-clarity, encourages everyone to dig into their past to declutter their future. Year of No Clutter is a deeply inspiringâ??and frequently hilarious â?? examination of why we keep stuff in the first place, and how to let it all
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