Notes From the Book Fair

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Did you hear that? If not, it was an enormous sigh of relief that last week’s frenetic activity is finally over. By the end of the Akron antiquarian fair on Saturday night I was so tired I was practically comatose. Our daughter, her husband, and our two grandsons showed up about an hour after we got home, so I whirled and twirled with the kids for a couple hours and was in bed by nine. The next morning we were back at it by 6:30, cleaning, cooking, flying with the kids, and hosting Easter dinner for ten. Needless to say, by nightfall the Wreck of the John B. had nothing on us!

But enough about that. Let’s cut to the chase and talk about the fair. If I were confined to a single descriptive word I guess I’d choose quirky. From the moment it started ‘til the final bell it felt very different to me than last year. There were several reasons for this which I will enumerate, but the important thing is the take-away message, which is this -- the future of the physical book is more secure than previous indicators may have led you to believe. I don’t know how many people I talked to who have e-readers and love them, yet still love and buy traditional books, primarily collectibles, or books perceived as potential collectibles, but it was a LOT. The other bright spot was the crowd. Eight hundred-plus people passed through the doors over two days and kept traffic at the booths constantly flowing. AND my book guru and neighboring booth proprietor scored $4000 on just TWO sales the first day!

On the downside, the number of dealers had dropped by about ten, but the soaring price of gas, plus the cost of hotels and meals probably had a lot to do with that. The other negative, or at least surprising, difference was the appearance of a never before encountered kind of customer. I talked to several other dealers who noted the same phenomenon and, like me, were a bit flummoxed by it. This customer had no clue about the pricing of collectible books, as in, “Why would a book that only cost $2.95 when it was brand new be $50 now that it’s so old?” This was also the kind of customer who picks up a $200 book and asks if you’ll take ten dollars! And the kind of customer who writes down the pertinent facts about a book when he thinks you’re not looking, so he can buy it cheaper online. And the kind who tells you that a collectible catalog is only worth $10 because that’s how much his friend paid for it at a garage sale. As much as they rattled me, I'm actually delighted these customers were there because we need newcomers badly if books and paper are going to be preserved and appreciated. So I tried my best to educate them as well as I could, though I'm not reallty sure they quite believed any of it!

Sadly, however, this kind of customer also does not know how to handle antiquarian books. In a heartbeat a woman opened a folio-sized 19th century book, allowed the front cover to flop over in mid-air and popped the first page following the front free endpaper. I can tip it back in, but I must admit to a surge of well concealed “shock and awe” when it happened. Believe it or not, we also actually talked ourselves OUT of a three-fgure sale when a woman wanted to buy a complete 13 volume set of children’s books in their original slipcase, throw away the case, and divide the spoils between three grandchildren in three states! When we finally convinced her not to do it Beethoven rewarded us with a few bars of Ode To Joy from the netherworld.

And yet, all that being said, we still did okay. With less items than last year our bottom line was almost exactly the same, minus one first edition Twain. This time the big winner was ephemera, though we did of course sell some nice books, including my favorite, a first edition of Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare & Company. Of all the sales though my three favorites were to people who so totally loved what they got they couldn’t stop telling me. Who knew that a Varga pin-up girl calendar with its original envelope, a salesman’s pocket sample of Victorian die-cut calling cards, a 1930’s Hollywood magazine with Jeanette MacDonald on the cover, Don Freeman’s rare magazine Newstand; One Man’s Manhattan and a refrigerator catalog from the 1890’s could elicit such unabashed pleasure. None of these things were especially pricey – the highest were just $50 and $60 – but the joy they engendered was so expansive I felt like the luckiest seller at the show.

Of course we went there to make money, which we did, but I think we can sometimes get so caught up in its pursuit that we fail to appreciate the less obvious pleasures of the trade. One guy who bought three of the items listed above said to me, “Man, you’re the one with the GOOD stuff! I spent all my money right here.”

Music to my ears. Bethoven not required.

P.S. It's been ten minutes since I posted and I've already been asked about the circle on my leg in the picture. I have no idea. I never even saw it until it was pointed out to me. It's not on my clothes, so it must be a beam from one of  tthe overhead cannister lights (see photo). You guys amaze me with your powers of perception!