I no longer sound like Typhoid Mary, so will be off tonight to my favorite book sale, a twice a year event managed by the Queen of Book Sales. This woman is a seller herself which should send red flags flapping in the wind like sheets on a clothesline in Dorothy’s Kansas, but doesn’t for the simple reason that she knows her stuff and plays fair at the book sale. When she prices books for the specials table it’s with thought, research, and loyalty to both the library and the bookseller. While it may not seem possible to serve both masters, she has proven that it is. I have many times paid $50 for a book and once paid a high of $250 for a set and in all instances came away happy. The library nets a fair price and booksellers net a decent profit margin. Win/win. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Of course this makes it a popular sale, so that means we’ll be out of here at one to arrive at two for a sale that starts at five. Yes, a lot of downtime here, but we’ve adjusted to the new reality. Besides, it does give me a chance to read for awhile (Annie Dillard’s The Maytrees), visit with my favorite sellers if they’re there, and read some more if they’re not. The library is also located across the street from a scenic urban park with WATER, so a nice leisurely walk in the sun might by on the agenda too. Win/win there too. So all told, I’m feeling pretty chipper today.
It’s actually funny that this sale occurs right now because my thoughts lately have strayed to paperbacks which I doubt I’ll be buying too many of this evening. Though I might. You never know with paperbacks. I love the quality paperback – love it – but dare I confess? I do not love the little pocket paperbacks. Why that is I don’t know. There’s not a thing intrinsically wrong with them and yet I don’t gravitate to them. I think maybe it’s because – okay, this going to sound weird – when I was a kid my best friend Izzie’s older brother left them scattered around the house. The lurid images on the covers -- not x-rated, but to a ten year-old somehow dangerous – caused me to recoil like a snake that just spotted a very large net. Silly I know, but there you have it – proof postitive that I can be given to flights of irrationality.
Anyway, this is not about that. It’s about the idea of paperbacks and what I DO love about them. Paperbacks democratized book ownership. You could sneer and call them books for the masses, which is exactly what they are, but this is the very crux of their charm. Of course you can read hardbacks for free at the library which I still do because my love affair with the library transcends economics. My sister, who could buy any book she wants at any time, also wears out a library card a year, so somehow the library thing must be hidden in our DNA. But paperbacks level the playing field, are immensely portable, and at least in their quality format are quite fetching – those smooth covers almost like baby skin, the spine uncreased and perfect – I could go on and on about them in their new state, but I even like them in their used state because then the onus is off. No longer do you have to worry about inadvertently dipping them ever so slightly into the bath water or spilling coffee on their pages (I’m guilty of both. See the coffee ring on the cover of the Robert Helenga above). Used, they’re like old familiar friends – you can invite them over and not tidy up the house first. In the picture above are some of my favorites, all bought new, but few looking their shiny best.
Paperbacks seem so intrinsically American, but actually they’re not American in origin. The credit goes to Britain where Penguin Books debuted in 1935 with an array of small volumes printed on cheap paper and sold at nontraditional places such as Woolworth stores. (Remember those? When I was a kid we called them the “the dime store.”)The trend caught on and within seven years Penguin had sold a whopping seven million copies, none of which were first issues.
So, it was a great idea and one that’s cool today too. I pop one in my bag to kill time at the dentist or the book sale and tote them along on trips without worry. I might lose them – I have lost them – but here’s the thing. I can lose a paperback, or I can lose an electronic reading device. Which would be the biggest calamity?
