So, how did Donate Books come about?

Well, it’s been on my mind for quite some time. As an avid reader and collector of books, I am only too aware of how much space these little literary beasts can demand. One book turns into two, two into four, and so on, exponentially, until you find yourself with a library. And a problem.

There’s no such thing as ‘too many books’, but there is such a thing as ‘too small a home’. Something has to give, if only to reduce the amount of incessant dusting forced upon you buy this potential avalanche of paper.

When I was in this position, having to make way for children, I eventually turned to Oxfam to take them off my hands. The books, not the children. I’m glad I did, as Oxfam is a wonderful charity, carrying out great work across the globe. However, in retrospect, I wish there had been a charity at that time which had focused on helping those in ‘literary distress’, those who cannot, or seriously struggle to read.

As a lifelong lover of reading—even as a child, I always had a slim paperback tucked into the back pocket of my jeans—I find the very notion of illiteracy heartbreaking. It isn’t simply that these people miss out on the undeniable pleasure of reading, it’s that it makes almost every other opportunity at best elusive and, in many cases, impossible.

Reading is the single most important stepping stone toward any and all fulfilling and meaningful interactions with… well, the entire world. Without it, you’re marooned, alone, on an island, surrounded by hostile waters.

I find it hard to imagine anything worse.

So, the idea of turning unwanted (or hazardously stacked mountains of) books into opportunities for people struggling with reading or entirely unable to read, is, for me, an extremely seductive one.

As luck would have it, about a year ago I began to experience debilitating pain in my left shoulder and arm. I didn’t say it was good luck. This pain would reach its zenith (or nadir, depending upon how you measure such things) whenever I had been driving for more than twenty minutes or sitting at a computer in the ergonomically recommended configuration for more than about an hour. I was diagnosed with cervical radiculopathy. In other words, I had a nerve pinched between two or more of my spinal disks. I reached out to medical professionals and was put on a waiting list. At the time of writing this web page (20th November 2025), I’m still waiting.

I soldiered on for six months before reaching the conclusion (which is to say ‘being told by my wife’) that this couldn’t go on any longer.

And so for the first time in 36 years, I found myself out of work. I immediately set about trying to figure out the kind of work I could do which wouldn’t involve long stretches hunched at a computer and painful commutes. Given my entire working life has been in the marketing sector, a complete career change was called for. At 56, that’s quite a daunting prospect. I was, for a while, all at sea. But then the idea for creating a business, a social enterprise, that could turn unwanted books into charitable action floated back into view.

So, I designed and ordered 250 post cards offering my services: DONATE BOOKS/WE COLLECT. When they arrived a few days later I posted them through the doors of 250 homes close to where I live. As a consequence, I have a new-found respect for postal workers. I don’t know who’s designing contemporary letterboxes, but those things bite. By then end of the day, my knuckles were bleeding.

The next day, my blood sacrifice was rewarded. Someone called me to say they had books to donate…