Apparently, in some interior decorating class somewhere, a teacher smoked a bowl right beforehand and mixed up the word "knickknack" with "book" and wound up telling students, "When you need to add color or fill space, just use books." And thus began a wretched trend that needs to be kicked right in the dick -- decorative books.
Now, I'm not talkin' about your standard coffee table books...those giant tomes of photojournalism, the hardcover collection of every postage stamp to feature a bird, that leather-bound edition presenting the history of roller skates. These serve a purpose. They give people's eyeballs something to look at while they wait so they don't snoop through your shit.
No, I'm taking serious aim at the color-themed stack of uselessness with a fucking flower vase on top. What kind of absolute monster puts a water-filled vessel atop reading material made of fucking paper?! Better yet, let's talk about the asshole-ishness of stacking books several feet high only to put some art piece on top? How is anybody supposed to access one of those books, you complete demon?
Let us now move into full blown ass-cringe territory as we discuss the waking nightmare that is color coordinated books. What the unholy fuckball IS this? Turning authors' lifelong projects into a preschooler's arrangement of troll dolls. Years of research, rewrites, and wordsmithing reduced to a rainbow line-up of My Little motherfucking Pony manes. For Christ's sake, leave the anthologies and selected works out of it, and save the ombre crap for Barbie shoes, hair ribbons, and friendship bracelet beads.
Along similar lines, this decor dipshittery of turning books spine-in/pages-out needs to bite down on a cyanide capsule already. Let's buy paintings and hang them so the pictures face the wall. I hope you enjoy my new throw pillows that I jammed under the couch. Can't wait for you to come over and watch my fabulous TV...with the screen angled toward the ceiling.
Hear me, interior decorators everywhere! Nobody walks into a room with books piled into a sculpture pedestal and thinks, "Now, here's the home of a seriously smart reader!" No one notices volumes stacked together in monochromatic gradient lines of bullshit and assumes it's a massive coincidence that all of the owner's favorite books just happen to be in shades of burgundy. Nope. The first (and often only) word that comes to mind is "douchebag."
Speaking of poor taste...
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