Something In the Water

Okay, so who spiked the water? I know someone had to have done it because this was a weekend like no other in a very long time. In our absence buyers suddenly unleashed a pent-up desire not only for our books, but for our expensive books. We sold Salvador Dali’s gorgeous golden cookbook that I featured last month here, a pricey collector’s guide to baseball pinbacks, a signed deluxe limited edition book of nature paintings in a slipcase, signed copies of Mr. Bridge and Mrs.Bridge in a slipcase, a 1947 Esquire pin-up girl calendar with its original envelope, an antiquarian copy of the Poems of Cowper in leather, and a bunch of miscellaneous cheaper things. Even the antiques mall popped on Sunday, so clearly the water was enhanced with bookish molecules over there too. Now, if I can only remember this when I’m whining in mid-summer that no one will buy anything good ever again (and I WILL be whining – we all know this) life will be vastly improved for anyone who has to, or chooses to, listen to me.

But of course the big thing I want to talk about today is Bookstock ’11 in Livonia, Michigan where we spent most of yesterday morning. As you know from my latest whine, I was not looking forward to it based on the mania experienced last year. To be honest, this year didn’t get off to a rousing start even though it ended up so good we took the kids out to breakfast to celebrate. We got there an hour early and were pleasantly surprised to see only about 15 plastic-covered boxes in a row by the door. Rain pelted steadily so everyone stayed in their cars, but as soon as the foyer door of the mall opened a fairly big crowd dashed madly inside which of course changed the entire configuration of the boxes. But it’s a mall. It’s big. So who cares? Apparently no one. Had that happened in Cleveland the red phone in the White House would have been ringing off the hook. The only complaint I had, and it did annoy me greatly at the time, was the stampede thing. This you had to see to believe.

By the time the sale opened there were about 150 people in line, all of whom, except for me and Eric I think, sprinted down the mall like a herd of deer running from buckshot. Over the camera cords in use by the two news stations filming the event they leapt like ballerinas. Never mind age, imparity, and dignity. Adrenalin fueled them, passion inspired them, and  onward they sped like Chariots of Fire. I could have run right along with them – no problem there – I might have even left ‘em in the dust. But I’m here to tell you that this is one thing I absolutely, positively WILL NOT do. I walked rapidly, though I didn’t even power walk, and landed where I needed to be (a very far place) in decent time. This place consisted of maybe eight eight foot tables loaded with higher priced books. Could it be that less buyers fought over the spoils? Yes, it could! Not  only was it possible to easily get to the tables and move down them unencumbered, but there were no scanners. Zip. Zero. Zilch. I know for a fact that last year they abounded because the news people zeroed in on them in the mistaken assumption that they were the only dealers.

While I liked the situation much better this year, there was a  a downside to it too because the people we competed against were hard core, long-time, serious book people. I know it because of what they chose and because they talked amongst themselves about exhibiting at the upcoming Ann Arbor Book Fair. But that’s fine -- I more than feel up to the task of working in their company. That is, I feel up to it in regard to spotting the good stuff. I quickly learned, however, that I was NOT up to it when it came to aggression. Twice in rapid succession I lost books I wanted because I was too polite to either take them off the volunteers’ cart, or tap the spine of the desired title from the stack in his arms to get it before it hit the table. In both instances I waited for the books to be put down, despite the fact that somewhere deep in the recesses of this blog is a post about this this very problem of mine. Here’s the thing though. I can’t even moan about rudeness because they weren’t rude. In fact, in both instances the dealers were so understated that most people probably never even saw it happen. Eric suffers from the same terminal courtesy I do, so when I saw him trump the second dealer who got “my” book and claim Spurling and Lubbock’s fabulous three volume slipcased set, Sail, I was stunned speechless.

And THAT, dear readers, was the game changer. From that point forward we sailed up and down the tables, masts billowing with confidence. All told, we bought fifteen books and one set for a total of $300. As we retraced our many steps to the front entrance our major question could have been sung to the tune of Where Have All the Flowers Gone?

The answer? In the cheap books section. And not as many of them as you would think either. So what does it mean? I don't know and I'm not going to hazard a guess just yet, but it could be that "the times they are a'changin'."