On Collecting Books (Vol. 2)

Sometimes our hunt for books takes us to the strangest of places. For instance, last month I decided to take a roadtrip to a neighboring city to do some book-scouting. It seems like every city has it's own book district and I spent the majority of day one prowling around several shops located within about six blocks of each other. I did pretty well, coming away with a few decent titles published by the Folio Society and by the Heritage Editions Club.

I talked to several of the bookdealers that day and more than one recommended that I visit a particular shop downtown that was not only the oldest in the area, but also well known for having the largest number of books.

The next morning, I arrived exactly at the logical opening time of 10:00 AM, only to find that the shop's hours were noon to 5:00 PM, Tuesdays through Saturdays.

Hmmm. Only open 25 hours a week?

I killed the next two hours by visiting some smaller bookstores in the area and returned. The bookshop was located in the basement of a very old building and one look around quickly confirmed what I'd heard was true. There was a massive amount of books, well over 60,000 in fact, and they filled four large shelf-lined rooms entirely from floor to ceiling.

In the center of the first room, seated at a desk, was a very old gentleman, busily scrawling into an ancient looking ledger (there was no computer). He wore a cardigan sweater and a pair of coke-bottle thick glasses were perched on the end of his nose. He used a ballpoint, but an old quill wouldn't have been out of place at all. The complete silence, along with the books piled to the ceiling, gave an oppressive feeling to the shop and I politely cleared my throat to signal my presence.

The gentleman briefly looked up and nodded. I smiled and nodded back, since talking seemed far too obtrusive in such a library-like atmosphere.

Not wanting to interrupt him at his work, I moved on into one of the adjoining rooms and began to browse through the stock. I noticed that most of the books were old hardcovers and they were stuffed in every available nook and cranny, often being placed in double layers on the shelves in order to fit. The overhead lighting was barely adequate and the dust almost unbearable. Given that I have an allergy to dust, I knew I wouldn't be able to stay as long as hoped, and since I was no closer to figuring out their system of classification, I decided to venture back into the first room and attempt to speak with the gentleman I assumed was the owner.

Turned out that his name was Clarence and that he wasn't the owner. However, he had been Mr. Johnston's assistant for nearly forty years and was an amiable enough fellow. I told him that my main interest was in the classics, but was also especially interested in unusual or finely crafted bindings. He briskly walked me around the shop pointing out where the fiction was kept (entirely filling the largest of the four rooms) and also showed me a series of locked glass cabinets containing their more valuable books. He opened one of the cabinets and showed me a few, the cheapest of which started at $750 - ouch! Then he excused himself and shuffled back to his desk, saying that the owner, Mr. Johnston, had given him a special project that he must get back to. I thanked him and went to look at the fiction.

After a few minutes, I heard a shuffling and turned to greet Clarence. He had thought of a few more areas in the shop he wanted to point out to me. I followed him to where they kept their "Books about books" and then to yet another series of locked and unlocked glass cabinets containing numerous books I could never afford. I thanked him and he shuffled back to work on his project.

After a few more minutes, Clarence was back again. He had forgotten to give me a friendly warning about Mr. Johnston, who was expected to arrive at any time. You see, Mr. Johnston was deaf in one ear, so I shouldn't be offended if he ignored me, because he probably couldn't hear what I was saying. Besides, "Mr. Johnston wasn't very outgoing anyway". I thanked Clarence for his warning and assured him that I wasn't exactly a "people person" either, so certainly would be understanding. Clarence was satisfied with this response, so went back to his desk.

Another five minutes passed and... you guessed it, I hear the steady approach of Clarence again. He thought that I might be interested to know what his "special project" was. Actually, I was!

Evidently, Mr. Johnston had come across a recent internet auction where a certain antique book was being listed for sale at $50,000.00. It was Mormon Psalm and Prayer Book dating back to the 19th century and the description had stated that it was the only known copy to be in existence. Not so. Mr. Johnston was convinced that he had another copy in the shop, somewhere, buried amongst all of those thousands and thousands of books. Clarence himself didn't remember seeing the book, but had complete faith that if Mr. Johnston believed they had a copy of the book, then they did.

Needless to say, despite my best intentions, I soon found myself drifting out of fiction and into the religion section. Oh, the evil thoughts that entered my head then! But quite soon it became obvious that finding a single prayer book amongst the thousands of others stuffed in the shelves was akin to finding a needle in a haystack, so I decided to head back to the fiction section.

Eventually, I did find a few things and was carrying a sizable bundle of books as I continued to browse the shelves. Unfortunately, there was more shuffling. Clarence had forgotten to mention their payment policy. Mr. Johnston accepted cash and cheques only and no credit or debit card transactions would be possible. Having a grand total of just $7 in my pocket, I resignedly replaced the books I had selected.

By then, a second person had entered the shop and Clarence was beginning the whole process all over again, starting with showing him where everything was kept. There was still no sign of Mr. Johnston, so I slipped quietly up the stairs and outside into the fresh air, hoping to locate a watering hole to spend the $7 on a remedy for my dusty throat.

Read This! (#8) - The Kite Runner

“I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I've been peeking into that deserted alley for the last 26 years.’”

This was a difficult read for me, but not because the writing style was oblique or overly rhetorical. In fact, it's quite the opposite - the writing is tight and the imagery is painfully clear. What makes it such a disconcerting tale is that it's savageness rings so completely true.

Set in war-torn Afghanistan, Amir and Hassan are childhood friends in Kabul in the sunny days before the invasion of the Soviet army and Afghanistan’s decent into fanaticism. Both motherless, they grow up as close as brothers, but their fates, they know, are to be different. Amir’s father is a wealthy merchant; Hassan’s father is his manservant. Amir belongs to the ruling caste of Pashtuns, Hassan to the despised Hazaras.This fragile idyll is broken by the mounting ethnic, religious, and political tensions that begin to tear Afghanistan apart. An unspeakable assault on Hassan by a gang of local boys tears the friends apart; Amir has witnessed his friend’s torment, but is too afraid to intercede. Plunged into self-loathing, Amir conspires to have Hassan and his father turned out of the household.When the Soviets invade Afghanistan, Amir and his father flee to San Francisco, leaving Hassan and his father to a pitiless fate. Only years later will Amir have an opportunity to redeem himself by returning to Afghanistan to begin to repay the debt long owed to the man who should have been his brother.

The Author Khaled Hosseini was born in Kabul, Afghanistan, the son of a diplomat whose family received political asylum in the United States in 1980. He lives in northern California, where he is a physician. The Kite Runner is his first novel and it's the type of story that, while fiction, could have only been written by somebody who was there.

First published in 2003, a signed first edition copy of this book in pristine condition will already cost you close to $500. But even though its been so popular, I tend to wonder about the long term collector's value of a novel based on such a specific regional topic. I think of "A Fine Balance" by Rhohinton Mistry and "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie as examples of two novels that can currently be had for much less, but may a better long term investment. Like picking the right race-horse, there are no sure things, so it's always better to collect what you love.

Read This! (#7) - The Confessions of Max Tivoli

"We are each the love of someone's life." So begins "The Confessions of Max Tivoli, a heartbreaking love story with a narrator like no other. Born with the physical appearance of an elderly man, Max grows older mentally like any child, but his body appears to age backwards, growing younger every year. And yet, his physical curse proves to be a blessing, allowing him to try to win the heart of the same woman three times as at each successive encounter she fails to recognize him, taking him for a stranger, so giving Max another chance at love. Set against the historical backdrop of San Francisco at the turn of the twentieth century," The Confessions of Max Tivoli is a beautiful and daring feat of the imagination, questioning the very nature of love, time, and what it means to be human.

The above is from the dust-jacket description contained on the back of this unusal and at times infuriating novel. Max Tivoli is not a nice guy. He is completely selfish and charges forward, at the expense of the well-being of all those he comes in contact with. What's infuriating is that, even by the end of the novel, we are left with distinct impression that he STILL hasn't learned his lesson, that given the chance, he would continue to go on hurting the ones he loved in order to satisfy his selfish desires.

However, the sad truth is that we all know people who are like this. They are completely fixated on themselves and think only fleetingly (and without any real remorse) of the people they have harmed on the way. If those kind of people irk you, then perhaps this is not the novel for you.

Also, the premise of reverse aging is hard to swallow.

But there is also a lot to appreciate here. The wrting is beautiful, the images are vivid, and the meditations on life and love contained within are valuable.

Have you ever completely blown a love affair and wished you could get a second chance to make it right? Then this is the novel for you.

The author, Andrew Sean Greer is still not a highly collected author, but his excellent writing style certainly makes him one to watch in the near future.

Read This! (#6) - The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

Are you drawn to novels that are character driven? Then this is definitely one you should check out!

Mark Haddon's quirky first novel, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time", is greatly enhanced by the author's decision to write it from the point of point of view of the fascinating main character, a 15 year old autistic boy.

After discovering the neighbor's poodle impaled on a garden fork and being arrested for the crime, the boy embarks on an investigation of his own, completely against the wishes of his father.

Like many with Autism, the narrator is mathematically gifted, but is socially backward and unable to sort out the strange behavior of his elders and peers. Nevertheless, he still moves steadily toward uncovering the solution to the mystery.

Because of the narrator chosen, Mark Haddon is able to include some very unusual devices which enhance character development and make the cadence of the story more interesting - chapters aren't numbered in the traditional sense, but instead only with prime numbers. Also, diagrams, copies of letters, maps, and pictures are sprinkled throughout.

Original, funny, moving (without being sentimental), and at times just plain weird, Haddon's novel is a must for those looking for something completely different.

Strangely, this book was produced in both a children's and an adult version in 2003 and a signed 1st edition can still be had at a relative bargain of about $250. Given it's broad appeal and subject matter, I would expect this value to increase sharply over time, especially if Mark Haddon is able to approach the success of this novel with his future efforts.

Read This (#5) - A Confederacy of Dunces

One of the funnier novels you could ever read.

John Kennedy Toole never saw the publication of this rollicking adventure that went on to capture the Pulitzer Prize in 1981, having committed suicide twelve years before.

How it got into print was only due the the relentless efforts of his mother, who took the manuscript to dozens and dozens of publishers over a number of years, before showing it to another writer, Mr. Walker Percy, who finally gave it the attention it deserved.

While you laugh out loud at the many misadventures of the pompous and loquacious 300-pound Ignatius J. Reilly as he rumbles around the city of New Orleans, it's hard to imagine how so much hilarity could have been produced by a mind that was clearly in a such a dark place.
Here's how it begins:

"A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once. Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs."

Ironically, my first exposure to this book also came during a dark time, as I read the entire novel over two days while in the hospital recovering from exploratory surgery to determine if I had throat cancer (didn't!).

The recovery/waiting area was a large room containing approximately thirty beds and we were divided from each other only by curtains. How bizarre my chortles of laughter must have sounded as they mixed with the moans and groans of the other patients!

Read This! (#4) - The Old Man and the Sea

By the time of his death in 1961 by suicide, Ernest Hemingway's celebrity far exceeded that of just a typical best-selling author. He had became known as "the man who did more to change the style of English prose than any other writer in the twentieth century" and was awarded a Nobel Prize for his efforts in 1954. What he did was simple, yet infinitely difficult - he cut out all the crap. He substituted the indirect for the direct in his fiction, without sacrificing any of it's breadth or symbolism.

And he lived his writing like few others had ever done. His masculine prose about big game hunting, bull-fighting, war, womanizing, and deep sea fishing was all drawn closely from his personal experiences, and quite possibly obscured how passionately dedicated he was to his craft.

The novella "The Old Man and the Sea" originally appeared as a special supplement in Life Magazine in 1952 and was published soon after in book form Charles Scribner's Sons. I consider it to be the "high point" of the Hemingway's trademark style and form and he agreed:

"This is the prose I have been working on all my life {The Old Man and the Sea} that should read easily and simply and seem short and yet have all the dimensions of the visible world and the world of a man's spirit. It is as good prose as I can write as of now."

Obviously, modern collectors agree with this assessment as well, since a signed first edition copy (pictured) of this book in fine condition will set you back about $14,000!

Read This (#3) - Life of Pi

Besides having an interesting story, my favorite books contain symbolic depth, resonance, and a generous sprinkle of what can only be described as "magic".

A "magic" novel is one in which the author has told us of events that do not align with our conventional experiences and logic, yet has done so in such a convincing fashion that we believe we may be hearing the truth.

Yann Martel's "Life of Pi" is such a novel.

Imagine being stranded for 227 days on a life-boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Now imagine having to share that life-boat with a tiger, a hyena, a orangutan, and a zebra.

Utterly ridiculous, isn't it? Yet somehow, Martel convinces us that it just might be possible to survive it after all. Magical story-telling.

The beginning of the novel provides details of the main character's childhood, including his unusual personal decision to combine three religions; Catholicism, Hinduism, and Islam. This is important because the remainder of this adventure challenges and confirms the doctrines of all these faiths.

But in the end, Pi understands that the authorities may not be able to take the leap of faith required to believe such a fantastic story and, almost out of sympathy, provides them (and the readers) with a second, more plausible accounting of his ordeal. Which version are you prepared to believe?

An interesting background note is on the name chosen for the Bengal tiger in the story, Richard Parker.

Richard Parker was an actual person who had the misfortune of being a cabin boy on the yacht Mignonette, sunk off the coast of Western Africa on 1884. The entire four man crew, including Captain Tom Dudley, escaped to a life-boat where they drifted with little food and water for the next nineteen days. At that point, the three men killed and ate the 17 year-old Parker. Five days later, they were rescued and returned to England, where they were put on trial for murder.

What happened to them? There is a very good book on the entire true story of Richard Parker, called "The Custom of the Sea" by Neil Hanson. If you're interested, I can lend you a copy.

In "Life of Pi" Martel has paid homage to the real Richard Parker by giving him his reincarnation as a 450 pound Bengal Tiger. Now the hunted has become the hunter!

After winning the Booker Prize, the value of first edition copies of "Life of Pi" has skyrocketed. It's hard to believe a book published only a few years ago (2001) can now command prices in excess of $1,000! Mind you, that's still chicken-feed compared to a signed first of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which will run you close to $15,000!!!

But hyper-moderns are a subject for another day.

On Collecting Books {Vol. 1)

The trait that has always defined and separated me is this stubborn tendency I have to insist that there HAS to be an explanation for why people act and live the way they do. I refuse to admit that randomness rules and chaos reigns supreme!

This perpetual perplexation is the driving force behind why I write, behind why I constantly push and test people, behind why I even bother getting up most mornings.

I've just got to make some sense of it all.

So, considering the above, my attraction to books can only be seen as a natural thing. I'm looking for some answers and, after all, books do contain many many answers. I'm not just talking about Psychology text books here. Even good fiction can reveal a great deal about the nuances of the human condition.

But why collectible books?

Surely a paperback contains the same information as the most intricately bound hardcover, or a first edition signed by the author? Absolutely it does. Perhaps the answer to that question lies in the idea of "layers" - the idea that things are often more than they seem and should be appreciated on more than one level.

Let's go away from literature for a moment and use the simple example of giving and getting flowers. Flowers look and smell alright, and taken at that superficial level, I suppose they do a serviceable job of brightening up a room and covering up any staleness in the air. On the other hand, there are just as many home cleaning products on the market that can do the same thing, are less expensive and come in many attractive colors.

So why then, are there so many flower shops around?

Because giving and getting flowers has virtually nothing to do with the actual flowers at all.

It's all about layers. Layers of feelings and meaning and care and appreciation. It's about understanding the miracle involved in even growing a flower and appreciating the processes involved in getting them the thousands of miles to where you live. It's about agonizing over what combination of colors and scents will most likely result in a smile or feeling of warmth from your recipient. It's about the symbolism contained within the gift: the devotion and the acknowledgement of love.

I, for one, do not give flowers lightly. That's because I understand and appreciate the concept of layers.

Books, like flowers, are grown. Most of us "get involved" at the finished stage, so do not think about the months of agony a writer goes through in order to push out a book. Did you know that Ernest Hemingway rewrote the ending to "A Farewell To Arms" 39 times before he felt it right!?! Absolute agony. When I read his deceptively simple prose, I try to remember the difficulties he endured, the many years he suffered from depression, his eventual suicide...

Writing well is near-impossible. Perhaps my acknowledgement and appreciation of this fact is why I always prefer a good signed copy of any book I admire.

Given the pain of "birthing" a book, does it seem right to treat it as a throw-away? After all, that's exactly what paperbacks are designed for. The glue and bindings and paper are purposely made as cheaply as possible in order to save costs, and even the most lightly read and diligently cared for paperback is unlikely to last more than a decade. I own my share of paper-backs too, purchased mainly for economic reasons, and feel they have their place - for stuffing in a purse or bag to be read at work, or for relaxing with in the bathtub. They're convenient, cheap, and low-risk...sort of like renting a movie.

But for the most part, the majority of any decent literature ought to be worthy of permanent residence in your home and should be in a form and quality that allows them the opportunity to last.

Factor into that philosophy an appreciation for the craft of book-making, which is an art all in itself. A skilled Bookbinder can take a worthy novel and improve it into a visual and tactile accomplishment as well, through the skilled used of leather bindings, spectacular fonts and stunning illustrations, along with all kinds of unique applications of design.

One of my more over-used sayings is "familiarity breeds contempt" and certainly books (not to mention, people, for that matter) are so plentiful these days, we rarely give them the respect they deserve. It's hard for us to get our minds around the idea that there are now more books published in a single month than were in existence only a 100 years ago, when entire towns contained only handfuls of books and the idea of throwing away such a precious commodity was utterly preposterous!

It's all about appreciating things and people on many levels.

Read This (#2) - The Preservationist

Picked up the 1st edition hardcover of this novel by David Maine off a remainder table at a local Chapters for the scandalous price of $3.99. The author was a complete unknown to me, but the cover design caught my eye and I liked the idea of personalizing the story of Noah and his ark.

I was pleasantly surprised and finished it one sitting. Each chapter is written from the point of view of one of the eight adult members of Noah's family and like any family, the differences in their attitude and personalities create some interesting conflicts.

Were the members of Noah's family actually like this? No, probably not, as Mr. Maine couldn't help but color their personalities with 21st century influences. But that only makes them more interesting to the modern reader and allows them to ask the questions about Faith that we all wonder about.

Read This (#1) - Shoeless Joe

I first read Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella over 20 years ago, probably not long after it was published. I was reading a lot of sports books in those days, but this offering was an entirely different animal altogether.

Sure, this book is about baseball, but it's also about magic, the existence of heaven, family, faith, redemption, and destiny. In other words, this book has it all.

Enjoy the "Costnerized" movie version Field of Dreams, if you must, but do take the time to read the novel. It's much better.

The collector in me was satisfied as well recently when I was able to acquire an American first edition of this classic for around $100. While the $200-$300 values showing for this edition don't even come close to matching the $5000 plus prices seen for Bernard Malamud's The Natural, one has to think that America's insatiable devotion to their pastime can only cause the price to go up.