Friday, August 20, 2010

Hope Like An Eternal Flame





One of the best parts of being a bookseller is buying a large collection, so when not one, but TWO, people phoned this week wanting to sell “lots” of books I was like Barry Bonds on steroids. Of course I know from frustrating past experience that it pays to ask questions BEFORE you jump in the car, so I made a huge effort to nail down how many books qualified as “lots.” Funny word,“lots.” I’ve seen it mean anything from ten books to 35,000. Yes, really 35,000, which we bought a couple years ago. I also made it clear that we don’t buy pocket paperbacks, recent popular fiction, Reader’s Digest condensed books, musty or moldy books, or books that have been a buffet for rodents or silverfish. Oddly enough, both callers reported fifteen large boxes each, all of which met our criteria. The adrenalin rush almost launched me into another galaxy.

“Now don’t get your hopes up,” Eric warned, as he does every time we’re in this situation. “Most of the time you’re disappointed.”

Of course I am, but for me the spark of hope is like an eternal flame -- it burns red hot until the last dud is turned. Eric tends to be more pragmatic from the get-go which means of course that he’s never as leveled as I am. When it comes to books I’m a thrill junkie who craves the high and lives on anticipation. If and when I no longer feel the spark I’ll know it’s time hang up my canvas book bags and finish writing my novel.

The first appointment was close by, conveniently located on Eric’s way home from the store which is ten miles from our house. Since the caller reported that all of the books were history titles it made sense for him to go without me. Though I am equally comfortable with the category, history and military R him, as his store specializes in history books, antique firearms, accoutrements for reenactment and classes for such things as fine engraving. He can also sell common titles in the store whereas online we wouldn’t bother to list them AND he is less likely than I am to pay too much. So I stayed home and fixed dinner which was no small feat itself -- try turning out a decent lasagna with a butterfly convention in your stomach.

At exactly a quarter to seven two things happened. The garage door went up and the butterflies immediately flew back to their hotel for a stiff drink. It was too early. The books were either no good or he didn’t make a deal. Turns out, it was some of both. The books were as clean and nice as indicated, but VERY pedestrian – two complete sets of Time Life (the Civil War and Western ones) and commonly found history titles by Stephen Ambrose and other equally popular authors. Eric made an offer for the store, but the guy had “looked them up“ and thought they were worth the price of his first-born child. Where have we heard THAT before? Many book owners look up their books on the internet and latch on to the highest price they see even though they’re often comparing apples to oranges. The high priced one may be signed by the author in a special leather bound limited edition and what they've got is a quality paperback in dubious condition, but never mind -- it’s worth at least a hundred bucks.

So, yeah, I crashed a little, but not too much because last night we had another shot at it. This time we journeyed to a Cleveland suburb, the home of an elderly man who was downsizing. Lots of nice antiques and cool collectibles in the house, but strangely we saw no books displayed. That’s because the books had been stored in the garage for, oh, maybe fifteen years or so, but not to worry, he assured us, they’re “great”. “Great,” I’ve learned, is another word like "lots" – very relative. But out we trooped through the kitchen into the garage and there beheld the fifteen boxes as big and full as promised stacked against the side wall.Beyond that let’s just say that the mark of a true bibliophile is the willingness to get your hands dirty.

And yet, even as I mentally rejected the fifteenth printing of Peyton Place, Wayne Dyer’s Pulling Your Own Strings and The Bobbsey Twins at Snow Lodge the spark of hope burned steady. I KNEW there was something of value in there somewhere – and there was. In the third to the last box I found a true first edition of From Here to Eternity – its letter A standing up proud as a peacock on the copyright page -- and anguish poured over me like a hot rain. The book looked like its owner had run over it with his riding lawnmower, so far beyond redemption you might as well bury it. Why, why, WHY do people not take care of their books? I’ve mourned the fate of so many over the years I could hire out as a professional keener at funerals.

But at least we didn’t go home empty-handed. We bought three books – a first edition Like Men Betrayed by John Mortimer (1953) with a nice jacket, a Lithuanian cookbook, and, a 1926 foreign title Jugoslavien Slovenien, Koratien, Dalmatien, Montenegro, Herzegowina, Bosnien, Serbien by Kurt Hieschler. By some miracle all had escaped imprisonment in good condition and the latter is comprised primarily of exquisite full page sepia photographs. I know they don't look sepia in the picture, but you're just going to have to take it on faith. It's a cloudy day and it's the best I could do.

I admit it -- I was deflated last night when I walked into the house easily carrying my three books. But looking back, it wasn't a bad evening, just not the Christmas party I’d hoped for. Actually, it was an interesting adventure and I truly love the books I got and am glad to have them. Tomorrow is another day and there's an estate sale at nine. We;ll be on the road at 6:30 a.m., one of us flying high once again on crazy hope.

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