Introducing... The Kinder Book Review

I’m a bookworm, and for a long time I’ve wanted to start writing about some of my favourite non-fiction, design-adjacent books.

First up is one that has been genuinely transformative for me: a quietly radical little book that offers profound insight into why living with less can be a very good idea.

On the surface, this minimalist thinking creates a paradox for me as an interior designer, but in reality, it provides a philosophy that cements my existing thinking and guides my design principles.

Goodbye, Things - On Minimalist Living by Fumio Sasaki

I’ve been giving Goodbye, Things by Japanese blogger Fumio Sasaki to clients for nearly a decade. That alone indicates its impact on how I think about design and the relationship between people and their possessions.

But the book isn’t what it appears to be at first glance. Yes, it’s about getting rid of stuff and there are the obligatory before-and-after photos of sparse Japanese interiors, but within its compact paperback pages are some paradigm-shifting philosophies.

The 55 tips that changed how I see things

At the heart of the book is are 55 tips for letting go of possessions. These aren’t your standard decluttering platitudes. They’re ideas that make you stop and think, because through them Sasaki reframes clutter not just as physical mess, but as a mental and emotional drain.

Take tip three: “When you discard something, you gain more than you lose.” Time, space, freedom and energy immediately come to mind. 

Then there’s “Let go of the idea of someday” – that crappy sewing machine you might get fixed, or those ballet shoes for classes you’ll definitely take....one day.

The most insightful tip is number 30: “Don’t get hung up on the prices you originally paid.” Those £300 shoes you never wear? The money's already gone. But housing them – whether in an extra wardrobe or a bigger house – carries an ongoing financial cost that far exceeds what you’re trying to preserve.

What Sasaki does brilliantly is articulate the mental and emotional load that stuff creates. Reflecting on how he’s changed since letting things go, he writes about “the silent to-do list” — objects that represent tasks you haven’t done: the dead light bulb, the things that need fixing, sorting, organising. Visual noise creating mental overload.

The professional paradox

Here’s where it gets interesting for me: I’m an interior designer who’s fundamentally uncomfortable with materialism. On the surface, this seems like a contradiction. My profession is supposedly about buying new things and creating beautiful material environments.

But what I'm actually doing is helping people understand their relationship with their possessions. Which things have genuine meaning, and which are just taking up physical or mental space?

I’m beginning to accept that we can’t escape the material world, and that’s OK. A chair, a table or a wall colour aren’t optional, they’re the infrastructure of everyday life. What is optional is the psychological grip those things have on us.

How this shows up in my work

At the start of any project, I take a forensic approach to inventory. How many cupboards do you need for your tupperware collection? Where are you at on crockery? How much wardrobe space does your vintage dress collection need? 

This isn’t glamorous work, but it’s essential. You can’t spend hundreds of thousands of pounds on a renovation only to discover your bedroom doesn’t have adequate storage for the things you actually own and use.

Sometimes it requires a professional declutterer. Other times I'll buy clients this book and it can have a galvanising effect; I've had clients run to the charity shop with boxes of stuff after reading it.

The sustainable design principle of ‘buy once, buy well’ connects directly to Sasaki’s thinking. A cherished family heirloom or a well-made piece that will last decades are fundamentally different from throwaway purchases heading for landfill. But they’re all still stuff, which means we need to be intentional about what we bring into our homes.

Is this book for me?

Despite the tips, Goodbye, Things isn’t a practical handbook. If you want step-by-step instructions on organising your kitchen drawer, Stacey Solomon's Sort Your Life Out probably has you covered. Sasaki’s book is more philosophical than that, which is precisely why it’s valuable.

The first section can feel a bit gimmicky, but don’t give up. The real substance is in the middle pages with all 55 tips to help you say goodbye to your things. Yes, he takes things to extremes – he references a documentary where someone starts naked and retrieves one possession per day from storage, but it’s a thought experiment, not practical advice.

If you’ve ever felt guilty about getting rid of something expensive, are keeping things for ‘someday’, or you feel the weight of visual clutter in your home, then please read this book. And definitely read it if you’re about to renovate and need to get clear on what you actually want to live with.

If the real meat of this book resonates, I’d recommend reading The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. It approaches similar themes but from the perspective of preparing for downsizing and eventual passing. It’s less morbid than it sounds, and more practical than you’d expect.

The lasting impact

Nearly ten years after first reading Goodbye, Things, I still find myself quoting Sasaki’s ideas to clients. The concept of visual noise, the silent to-do list, the cost of housing stuff we don’t use – these frameworks have become part of how I think about creating homes that support wellbeing rather than create stress.

Interior design, done well, isn’t about accumulating more. It’s about creating spaces where people can thrive – which often means helping them live with less, but better. Sasaki’s book articulates something I’d always felt but couldn’t quite express: the freedom that comes from loosening the psychological grip our possessions have on us.