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I used to give my evil ex my less-than-precious books whenever I had a clearout. He had a loft-style open plan flat in a converted factory, and had a shelf running round 1/2 of it above door height.
He was a reader, but rarely read anything I gave him, unless I specifically recommended it. But because he did read, the implication was that the hundreds of books used by him as decoration were actually his treasured possessions. I stopped giving them to him when he started entertaining other ladies there. I couldn't stop him straying, but I could stop myself adding to his allure. Of course I should have just stopped seeing him... better late than never.
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