Chapter Thirty-Nine, in which is listed the most important Books in your Bibliothecary's Life

Here is your Bibliothecary's spin on (let's see if I can get this pedigree right) the twist at This Space on Book World's version of Mental Multivitamin's riff on Pages Turned's survey of books that "have shaped, or even defined, the reader." Not sure I can adhere to the prohibition against classics, but let us see what happens. In order, from past to present, as best as I recall:

The Once and Future King, T.H.White--This was the first book assigned in school that ever really caught my fancy. By the time I made it to the middle, I stayed up all night in order to finish. It spawned a long interest in the Matter of Britain.

Les Miserables, Victor Hugo--A book assigned as an optional study in the same class as above. I started this too late to finish before the end of the school year, but I continued to enjoy it into the summer. This was the first masterpiece I ever read, and it spawned an abiding interest in the masterpieces of world fiction. Though I had read often as a child, nothing I had read before had struck me with awe. I thank that school teacher for introducing me to a real passion for reading.

The World According to Garp, John Irving--After several years of light to no reading, I picked up this book because it was what a cute neighbor was reading one summer. In it I found a joy of story telling and a grand display of life well lived.

The Great Gatsby, Scott Fitzgerald--I don't recall why I first read this, but I still read it today, and never tire of it. Fitzgerald commands a wonderful ear for dialogue, and his style is exemplary. I still wince, I still laugh, I still shake my head in wonder at Nick, and I still admire Gatsby. The last sentence is one of the finest in all literature.

Love in the Western World, Denis de Rougemont--Again, how I came to this book is forgotten. What is remembered is the permanent imprint it put on my understanding of love.

On Writers and Writing, John Gardner--Many years after reading through the Matter of Britain, I decided to try my hand at fashioning the various myths and legends into one grand historical fiction. An interest in the craft of writing turned up this book, and it spurred my desire to write more and better. Though it did not see me to the completion of my epic, it did and continues to spur me to drive the quill.

Modigliani, William Fifield--A blurb in Vanity Fair magazine made me search for Modigliani, and the story of the artist made me want to write the story of Alexandre Guilbert, which was the fourth book I wrote and the first to see publication.

Against the Grain, Joris-Karl Huysmans--In research for Guilbert's book, The Last Decadent, I picked up this and immediately was drawn into the lush and artificial world of decadence. I was sent in a whole new literary direction, along the path of Maturnin, Maupassant, Zola, Natalie Barney, Baudelaire, Louys, etc.

One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez--I heard of the author at the publication of Love in the Time of Cholera but found this earlier title first. This masterpiece of magic realism amazed me, and turned me down another new path where lurked Borges, Carpentier, Rushdie, Grass, etc.

Holy Blood, Holy Grail, Michael Baigent--Informs my belief (or disbelief) in Jesus and, despite the highwire plot, spells out the basic truths covered up by Christianity that to my mind seem obvious.

The Secret History, Donna Tartt--I was awed by this book before I ever read it. And once I did read it, I was a bit let down. Though well crafted and well written, I was far more impressed by the pre-publication publicity, by the bidding war for rights, by the advance eventually paid to this first-time author, and by the unusual physical qualities of the book itself, which plainly set it apart from every other title on the shelf.

Parnassus on Wheels, Christopher Morley--What led me to this book I have now forgotten, but how wonderful that it happened. Though I had already admitted to a fondness for books, Morley showed me how to fall in love with them, and I did. Mad About Books is a direct descendant of that first traveling bookstore.

The Handyman, Carolyn See--From de Rougemont I had learned well the idealized forms of romantic love, but here for the first time I was introduced to the real love of a true woman. It is perhaps the most beautiful story I have ever read. I was so impressed I struck up a correspondence with the author which honored me greatly.

From Dawn to Decadence, Jacques Barzun--Days of emptiness were filled with the history of the world. I was impressed by the writing, and have since sought out more works by Barzun which have also impressed me. He has given me an appreciation of the essay. And his book gave me an interest in general history which has taken me, in the last few years, away from the once beloved novel.

This list was hard to pare down to just ten--I mean, fourteen--books. Ultimately, these are the books that truly produced some change in me, while most of the others on my initial draft list were (I hesitate to say merely) awe-inspiring, such as The Mayor of Casterbridge, by Thomas Hardy or The Rainbow, by D.H. Lawrence or Sexual Personae, by Camille Paglia. Perhaps one day there will be a list for those.

Chapter Thirty-Eight, in which your Bibliothecary comes to an Understanding

I enjoy understanding things.

Several chapters back, reader Aubrey posted a comment about her fond memories of an old bookstore:

[I] was very happy to discover a small bookstore with an air of perpetual twilight in the college town. It was called the Blue Dahlia and I found many treasures there. I have not been back since 89 and its probably long gone, but if you can give someone a long-lived fond memory, with the existence of your bookstore, you will have done a wonderful thing!

A few days ago I clicked upon Kate's Book Blog where she had earlier posted some observations about independent bookstores. The proximity of the two experiences, receiving Aubrey's comment and reading Kate's posting, made me wonder if there was something special to independent bookstores.

To Kate I commented:

What is it that makes independent bookstores special? Why does one remember fondly a used bookstore, but not a library? Why don't we have the same feelings about a laundromat, or a grocery? Can feelings for a place such as a bakery, or a local fruit stand, match those for an independent bookstore? Is it the "independent" or the "book" or something else that makes them so special to so many?

My questions were not rhetorical. I enjoy understanding things, and I hoped to understand what may be a widespread phenomenon.

Kate, in fact, did have fond memories of a library. She also had fond memories of a bar and cafe, to which her analysis provides a start to understanding:

...it’s all about the ambience of the place -- the décor, the food, and, most importantly, the people.

I begin to wonder if the lure of independent bookstores lies most in the people. And then Kate sums up all the questions I had asked:

Being in a room full of books generates a paradoxical combination of comfort and excitement that I've only otherwise experienced in a really good relationship.

Did you just experience the "Ah-hah!" of understanding with me?

Here, then, is my interpretation. As many great book readers and lovers have said, books are like people, they are friends. When I walk into a bookstore and find the proprietor has for sale The Great Gatsby in first edition, I immediately have a bond with him. He shares my taste in books. And in reading that book, again and again, returning to it as one would regularly telephone an old friend to keep in touch, I develop a really good relationship with Jay Gatsby and Nick Carroway and Scott Fitzgerald. Their familiarity comforts me, I listen to their stories as a good friend would, and I get excited at the prospect of spending time with them. Even though I may enjoy cookies, or kiwis, or clean clothes, I do not form a relationship with any of them, or the places in which they are found. And so an independent bookstore, as opposed to a retail outlet for publications, becomes like a bar or cafe, where one goes to congregate with one's friends, meet similar folks, and gossip with the proprietor and patrons about what Salman Rushdie has been working on.

I can't help agreeing with Aubrey: I hope one day my bookstore will inspire fond memories in someone in just this fashion. And so does everyone on the shelves, as they wait patiently for another friend to visit.

I think I understand now.

Chapter Thirty-Seven, in which the Windows are dressed anew

Banned Books Week is over, so away go the wrapped, censored, chained, and otherwise silenced books which decorated the windows last week. Take care with your window displays, for after only a week in the sun the paper that had covered some of the display books is yellowed and brittle, so nature surely attacks the other books in like, though less noticeable, manner.

Also gone now is the special table for science fiction. The front is returned to its normal look, with the catalog of Banned Books and special flyers promoting Buy A Friend A Book Week left on the table for perusal.

To the front goes a selection of haunted BOOks, including Dracula, Frankenstein, some Anne Rice vampire novels, and a survey of ghosts and hauntings. Perhaps we will bring out the secret scarecrow and prop him up in the window as well.

Other tidbits: three photographs of Madonna and her exceedingly rare and beautiful book collection clipped from Ladies Home Journal (or some such magazine) are now framed and accenting the stores aisles. We also received a telephone call today from a local radio station in response to last week's press release. Stay tuned for what that call may bring. And we have given the final approval on a billboard design, the first of which should be proudly on display in several days.

A final note from the weekend: we took a drive through town (elapsed time: 17 seconds) the other night, as we often do, for no other reason than to admire the store and the big "BOOKS" light from the street, and at the other end of town (the next block) we saw The Cracker Jack was cleaned out. This was the gift/junque store that opened shortly before ours in the building that we almost took last year. We also learned the owner had been living in the back of the store to save expenses on an apartment. He had posted a sign about six weeks ago advertising a going-out-of-business sale, but he hung on. Until now. It is sad he could not make it. I just hope books are a more compelling purchase than lamps and faux antiques.

So far, we are surviving, and we are optimistic.

Chapter Thirty-Six, in which is heard the Proclamation of Buy A Friend A Book Week

So it is that quarterly time of year again: Buy A Friend A Book (BAFAB) Week.

The premise behind this is everyone goes out, to their local independent bookstore we hope, and buys a book for a friend for no particular reason (other than to celebrate BAFAB). Now is not the time to give your socialist-minded boss a lofty tome explaining the virtues of the free market, or your mistress a book about love letters. Ideally, the gift of this book will be a complete and unexpected surprise to the recipient. Think Alice's Adventures in Wonderland for your drinking buddy, or 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea for your neighbor. You might even consider giving Grendel to your doctor's receptionist and make of her a new friend.

To find out more visit BAFAB.

Chapter Thirty-Five, in which is described the Joys of Brodart

To a large extent, books are not yet made out of plastic. For hundreds of years the main ingredients--paper, ink, cardboard, cloth, leather--have remained remarkably the same, and are holding up well. But what a difference a bit of plastic can make!

Warily did I take up the experiment of equipping a select few of our books with Brodart archival dust jacket covers. I needed to run a few tests as to the affordability and ease of this product. They arrived quickly. The price was right. They go on shamefully easily. What's not to like?

While collectors may sometimes purchase a book for its materials, most readers still base their purchases on content. Still, often, appearance can help sell a book. This is especially the case with gifty books, such as a coffee-table book on Coffee. The beauty of the Brodart jacket cover is that it can help mask minor flaws in a dust jacket, it preserves the most delicate part of a book, and it gives a fresh like-new appearance to older books. Put several of these Brodart-protected books on a shelf, and our store no longer looks like a mere used book store, it is now a store that deals in fine pre-owned books. And the price being negligable, Brodart covers do not force us to raise the price of our books, while at the same time increasing their value.

If you haven't tried them, I highly recommend doing so. They come in all sizes, and numerous versions, to fit most any need. I have just placed my third order, each progressively larger, and in addition to the books in our store, I will soon be enhancing some of the books in my private collection.

Chapter Thirty-Four, in which One should be able to judge a Book by its Cover

Came the notification that a book for which I had been hunting--The Book-Hunter, by John Hill Burton--had become available from one of my fellow dealers. I followed the trail immediately and, lo, there in unmistakable text was a description of my quarry. The price was right for a Beggar and, despite the lack of an endpaper and possibly a title page, I claimed my prize.

The book arrived quickly and exceedingly well-packaged. When I opened the parcel, my first reaction was that I had been sent the wrong book. When I opened the cover, there was indeed no endpaper and no title page. What had been described as possibly the title page or an advertisement for The Book-Hunter was present, so I had received the book that was described. But the book was not as described, as any careful perusal would have revealed.

On the spine in gilt letters was printed The Queer, The Quaint, The Quizzical and below that the author's name: Stauffer [Frank]. This was the book I had received, whose title page was missing, and whose front matter contained a publisher's advertisement for another of its book's, The Book-Hunter, by John Hill Burton.

A quick check at OCLC confirmed the book's identity. And though this was not the book I had once wanted, it now was the book I wanted. Another check brought up no available copies of this edition, by this publisher, and only a handful from other publishers.

The best thing about this unexpected book is that it, too, is a book about books, among other tidbits, A Cabinet for the Curious. Apparently the Book Gods have smiled upon me, and delivered up to me bibliographic manna.

Now where is The Book-Hunter?

Chapter Thirty-Three, in which the Results of the weekend Sale are discussed

We did an average business for a Saturday last weekend. Unfortunately, we sold only about twelve science fiction. Now we are faced with all the science fiction we could force into the shop, and almost no better off than before in terms of space. Perhaps the sole benefit will be the culling of doubles, if they can be sold to another interested party. If there are any science fiction needs, feel free to send an email and we will see what we can do to fulfill them. As for now, the plans to do a Romance or Adventure sale next month, using the space freed from the Science Fiction sale, are pushed back. We have another category in mind, and the hope of better results.