I just saw a decorating a post with a bookshelf hiding all the spines and displaying the edges of pages. Someone could have bound reams of paper. Alright folks, it's time to talk about this ludicrous trend of spineless decorating. I don't care if you wear white after labor day, don capri pants, love your big hair, or use dark 70's paneling on every room of your house.  I really don't. Yet, do not turn your book spines to the wall. That's so cringe.

Yes, you heard it right. There's an insidious craze infiltrating our homes and Instagram feeds that involves turning book spines to the wall so only the pages are visible. Who thought this was a good idea? Isn't having to face the wall a childhood punishment? It's like declaring that your books not are not for reading. Oh, I hate this trend with every fiber of my book-loving being. And I hate to hate.

Let’s call this what it is: outright book abuse. Spineless decorating is a travesty that deserves nothing but disdain. How dare we rob books of their very identities by hiding their spines? These are not just bound sheets of paper, but vessels of human thought, emotion, and labor. Authors bleed words into these pages, and we’re going to turn around and hide their names? Preposterous!

What’s next? Hiding the Mona Lisa because her smile doesn’t match the pillows? Spare me!

Spineless Decorating is an Aesthetic Atrocity

There’s nothing charming about this aesthetic atrocity. Consider Steven R. Southard's words: “This bizarre book-positioning method caught on and became a thing. Normal people, in normal homes, now arrange their books this way.”  Spineless decorators, listen up: you're just normal people in normal homes, imitating a silly fad. Oh, the horror!

Jen Birkhofer, you might think you won by turning your husband's maroon copy of "The Intelligent Investor" backward to match your decor, but I assure you, you lost something precious—respect for the written word. Books are meant to be read, their spines proudly displaying their title.

What exactly is the appeal? Is it the monochromatic look, the uniformity of whites and beiges? If you want monochrome, buy a canvas. Leave the books alone! Natasha Meininger says, “I love the sculptural effect you get by facing the pages out.” Sculptural effect? Give me a break. Books are not sculptures; they are dynamic entities rich with stories and wisdom. They carry the flow of human discourse through time and place.

Show Some Spine: Book Love

And let’s dispel the myth about copyright concerns. Southard pointed out how bogus this excuse is. No publisher in their right mind would sue a show for some free advertising. They’d probably thank the heavens for the exposure. This isn't legal advice, but for decades, I've seen books on TV, movies, print advertising and more. So why are we really doing this? To follow a hollow trend? Let’s wage a non-violent war against this madness! Let's replace it with book love. I'm proving my point by peppering this post with shots of some of my bookshelves.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from teaching writing and authoring eight books, it’s that a book’s spine is much like the backbone of a story—it holds everything together. Hiding the spine is like erasing the essence of what makes each book unique. It makes every book generic. As Philip Blackwell wisely put it, “Books serve as windows into one’s soul, revealing a person’s identity and interests.”

So let’s be real here: spineless decorating isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s an outright disrespect to what books stand for. If you love books, if you respect the craft, then let your shelves be a celebration of the stories within, not a bland, faceless array of pages.

Join me in saying HATE to spineless decorating! Let’s turn those spines outward and showcase the richness, the diversity, and the beauty of our books. Decorate your home with a love for literature, not a disdain for the very essence of it. Books are poetry, prose, passion, and purpose bound in paper and ink. Let them be seen and celebrated in all their glory.