One of the best things about bookselling is the perpetual element of surprise. You go to the ordinary library sale and find a gem in a box that somehow got shoved under the far corner of a table. You buy an unprepossessing little book and it’s hiding a secret. It doesn’t matter if the secret’s worth a lot of money – it’s the intrigue, or even the sheer whimsy of it that provides delight. I feel sorry for wannabe booksellers who scan the soul out of every book that crosses their path yet never cultivate a friendship with any of them. The desire to accumulate huge inventories at the expense of learning reminds me of the frantic attempt to collect “friends” on facebook.