Chapter 129 And Now for Something Completely Different

After the past three days of densely worded prose, I need to focus on something a little lighter. I’m sorry those past three posts were so long. Sometimes I have a tough time articulating what I want to say and I just keep writing until I get it all out.

In other news, I checked my sitemeter recently, the place that shows how many people are reading my blog posts. The fun part of the sitemeter isn’t seeing the incredibly small number of readers one has. The fun of the sitemeter is seeing what search phrases people typed into Google that brought them to your blog. I always assumed that those who read this blog regularly are bookish types like me. That may be true for most of you, especially if you get to my blog by bookmarking it or clicking on a direct link somewhere. I don’t get to see that information. However, if you’ve stumbled across my blog purely by searching for something on a search engine, you had to type in a phrase or words that appeared somewhere on this blog before.

Here are a few search phrases — and mind you some of these turned up more than once — that brought people to my blog:

Book Hunter’s Holiday
Books
Elbert Hubbard
Skateboarding
Literary imps
Wild animals that look like dogs in Texas
Book bibliographies
San Francisco Book Fair
Great American home cookie baking
Riley Poole
Brain shaped food
grape jello
aquarium books

That’s certainly an eclectic mix of searches. I guess you should be reading this blog not only for bookish commentary but for advice on wild animals that look like dogs in Texas, baking cookies and making jello, and brain shaped food. And, of course, don’t forget those aquarium books! You’ll learn something new every day.

Have a good weekend! See you in the stacks!

Chapter 128 Introducing Antiquarian Books to the Newcomer, Part 3

Are you still with me? Bless you, patient reader. Thanks for coming back after reading Part 1 and Part 2.

For the past two posts, I’ve been trying (apparently in the most wordy way possible — sorry) to make the connection between booksellers who worry that few young people are becoming book collectors and teachers who worry that few young people read at all. I’m not trying to say that book collectors collect books because they read a lot and that we should all worry because young people don’t seem to read much. In fact, as a reader commented on yesterday’s post, most collectors (myself included) don’t read their books at all.

What I want to point out is that collecting books can be the way for a reluctant reader or a non-reader to enter and learn to appreciate the world of books. Collecting takes the view that a book is to be desired not only for its content, but for its edition and condition, its physicality as an object or artifact. Even a person who doesn’t read much can learn a lot by collecting books. I’ll tell you a little secret. I haven’t re-read Dante’s Divine Comedy (one of my areas of specialty) since I quit teaching seven years ago. However, in continuing to collect illustrated and unusual editions of Dante, I’ve learned more about Dante and his masterpiece than I did when I read the original. No, I am not concerned at all that kids who don’t read much may never become book collectors. The reading part is not entirely relevant.

What is relevant is that young people don’t know — and I mean have never seen nor heard of — antiquarian books at all. I have one good friend — went to same high school I attended, college degree, good job, reads bestsellers and magazines — who once seriously asked me, “Did you say you sold books about aquariums?” She had never even heard the term antiquarian. Once I explained what I did and showed her a couple of my books, she thought it was pretty neat, but said, “Wow! I thought only really rich people could buy leather-bound books.” I was, to say the least, stunned. While collecting does require funnelling some money towards books, I am by no means “really rich”, yet I have antiquarian books because I took my time in acquiring them and sought them out everywhere. If I can do that, most other people with even a passing interest could, too, given the right encouragement and a little guidance.

How can we let people know that book collecting requires neither millions of dollars nor a Ph.D.? Because the antiquarian books that often grab the headlines are often the ones sold for millions of dollars, those few who are aware of them think that only the very rich and the very erudite can collect books, and not likely being one of those, these few eliminate for themselves the possibility of collecting books. While money and education certainly don’t hurt in any field, they are by no means a pre-requisite to book collecting.

So, I abruptly ended yesterday’s post with this question:

How, then, do we troll for new collectors and make it known that book collecting is a possibility for anyone with a serious interest?

1) I may be veering from the orthodox view of book collecting here, but meaningful collections can be built over time without spending a ton of money. One of my neighbors, for instance, loves surfing and has since he was a teenager. He has a wonderful collection of about 300 books on surfing — not an area commonly thought of as book collecting territory. It’s something he has put together from teenage years into middle age, paying attention to condition along the way. He does not actively seek these books, but adds them gradually as he comes across titles here and there. I think it an original collection that captures a dynamic and popular sport, and I’m ready and waiting any time he wants to sell it. My son Tom is inspired to find books about skateboarding whenever we attend the library sale together. Though he is not currently an enthusiastic reader, he has fun gathering these books because they show photos of cool tricks or give him information he seeks about the subject.

2) Support book collecting contests. Fine Books and Collections sponsors the Collegiate Book-Collecting Championship. When my business allows it, I’d like to sponsor such a contest on a smaller scale at the high school where I used to teach. These small contests show the younger generation that others like them are collecting. They needn’t wait to be come stock-option millionaires to begin collecting books. It also shows the younger generation how to gather information on a subject they in which they are interested from multiple sources and sellers, a skill that I think has become increasingly important in our internet society.

3) Exhibit at book fairs (especially those where the fair organizers do a good job of promoting the fair to the general public). Book fairs are good for you and for your business and for the antiquarian book business as a whole. Even when the fair is not a financially successful one, you don’t know to whom you might have introduced the concept of book collecting. I say this because I was, until recently, one of those people who wandered the fair looking at books and silently wondering how to become involved. There seemed to be an overwhelming amount of knowledge required. A few booksellers were very instructive and very kind in answering my questions. Though I probably didn’t buy anything at the time — heck, I was probably called a “tire kicker” by a few — their instruction helped me determine how I could collect and what I wanted to collect. They planted the seeds for future purchases by spending time educating me. If you’re a bookseller, don’t be grumpy and tired when asked for the umpteenth time how you know a book is a first edition. Take the time and explain to the newcomer. This is part of your job, even when it doesn’t result in an immediate sale.

4) Read Book Collecting: Some New Paths, by Jean Peters. This book discusses all kinds of interesting and viable approaches one can take when building a collection. It was helpful to me when I was trying to decide what focus I wanted for my (yes, it’s still unfinished) Dante catalogue.

5) Be patient. I think one big reason there are not a lot of collectors under 35 is that most people that age don’t have ANY disposable income. More importantly, for some it takes that long to realize that culture and history as presented in books are things that connect us with our past. In my experience, many teenagers and twenty-somethings are so focused on being different from everyone else that they haven’t developmentally reached a maturity where they desire to see a connection between themselves and the past. I would love to hear from any long-time bookseller whether there were many collectors under 35 during the “golden age” of bookselling in the early part of the 20th century.

6) When you encounter someone with an interest, be proactive and cultivate that interest. Send them catalogues. Suggest they subscribe to Firsts or Fine Books and Collections. Recommend your favorite book about books for them to read and learn.

I’ve tried to give a few ideas for introducing antiquarian books to newcomers. I realize that none of them are very original, but I don’t hear many other booksellers saying these things. Perhaps they already know better or they are already obvious to everyone else. Part of the fun of being new is not always knowing when your ideas are completely off-base. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below, if you have any. Part of the reason I blog is to learn from others.

Thanks for reading and sticking with me through these lengthy posts on this topic.

See you in the stacks!

Chapter 127 Introducing Antiquarian Books to the Newcomer, Part 2

If you’re returning to read the second part of this post after reading the first part, which took a direction I didn’t anticipate when I started writing, thank you. If you’d like to read my rambling preamble, which I posted yesterday, click here.

To succinctly recap, veteran antiquarian booksellers lament the fact that people younger than the age of, say 35, are not collecting books. I spent most of yesterday explaining a related complaint by experienced teachers that kids today don’t read. I then explained that some kids do read and read quite well, even though they are not the majority. I also explained how I tried to reach those students who were reluctant readers. Usually this involved showing them some kind of connection between what they were reading and contemporary culture. It didn’t work every time, but I think I won a few converts by doing this. (Why I couldn’t just say it this way yesterday is a mystery, but I just couldn’t.)

What attracts people to collecting antiquarian books? Is it because they love to read and to gain knowledge? Is it a desire to preserve and pass down history, literature, culture? Is it because they love the beauty of fine bindings? Is it because it makes them look intelligent? Is it because they love the tactile feel of a book in their hands? At least one of these things, or some combination thereof appeals to most collectors I know. Indeed, just as there are actually kids who read, there are book collectors out there, and according the Fine Books and Collections annual report on the top 50 book, map, and manuscript auction sales, a select few have even spent from $406,000 to $21.3 million on single item purchases in 2007. Granted, the great majority of us booksellers can only hope to sell such amazing items someday, but the great majority of those who collect and purchase books also can only hope to make such an amazing purchase as well. There are collectors out there who want to build an interesting, meaningful collection without committing to spend a half million dollars or more. Can that be done? I think so.

Despite a love of books and working in academia and publishing for a time, I did not know the world of antiquarian books existed until I was in my early 30s. Every day I ask myself why wasn’t I aware of antiquarian books before this? I wonder whether I missed the day in school where antiquarian books were taught.

Oh, wait.

Antiquarian books aren’t taught in school. Don’t get me wrong. At my high school we read the oldies but goodies going back to Gilgamesh. But we read them in translation in tiny print in cheap paperbacks — a dismal way to try to appreciate a good story and to enjoy a book. Students have the great literature of the world inflicted on them in the worst of formats. These flimsy paperbacks, encasing the literary classics of world cultures, are akin to a diet of caviar presented on a Saltine cracker. Ultimately, they will not encourage many to pursue gourmet food. Few students who have read an 8-point print, paperback Crime and Punishment have any desire to later acquire an expensive, leather-bound edition of the book whose very name suggests to the high school student that its assigment in school is retribution for a past transgression. No, rightly or wrongly, secondary school is not the place where the idea of antiquarian books or even primary sources are introduced. I’m not arguing for the use of fine first editions as classroom texts, but certainly showing students a fine first is something which could, in some cases, be done. I did it with a few of my Dante books.

Most people I’ve met who have been involved with antiquarian books their whole lives either got an early job in such a store or had a friend or relative who collected or was a librarian. Again, this was not the case with me. I don’t have any relatives or friends who collect books. I was not exposed this way. I do have a friend who obsessively collects automobilia, though, so I did have a good chance to observe the mindset of a collector and the long-term vision and perserverance one needs to build a meaningful collection in that field. My general impression at the time was that collecting looked fun, but that it was probably out of my modest price range.

Then, as many of my favorite books have, a book came to me via serendipity: Nicholas Basbane’s A Gentle Madness. If you’re a long-time reader, you already know that I read this book and it was as if a tuning fork had resonated in my heart in perfect pitch. I knew then that I needed to be in the world of antiquarian books.

I don’t want another person like me to miss out on the joy of book collecting for another second. I was not exposed to book collecting at a young age, and though I was taught to appreciate — no, love — literature, the idea that a book is a fine thing, to be appreciated as an object, was not reinforced in school. I suspect there are many like me, who really like books, but don’t know what that next step is. I want to help them. That’s why I’m a bookseller.

How, then, do we troll for new collectors and make it known that book collecting is a possibility for anyone with a serious interest?

Unbelievably, just when I (finally) seem to be getting to the crux of it, I keep getting interrupted by my real life today (hence the posts that never seem to get to the point)! Sorry to conclude abruptly. I have to end this post here (hungry children whining for dinner in the background). I apologize. I promise to wrap this up tomorrow with (finally!) some actual specifics about reaching out to new collectors and introducing antiquarian books to the newcomer. Please say you’ll come back tomorrow?

Chapter 126 Introducing Antiquarian Books to the Newcomer, Part 1

When I communicate with veteran booksellers about the future of antiquarian books, they frequently lament the fact that they don’t know where the next generation of collectors will come from. Most young people, it seems, are not book collectors. When I was teaching high school English, I often heard a related lament from the veteran teachers: These kids today don’t read.

Well, of course they don’t. There are 500 television channels (about 488 more than existed during my own childhood) with endless options, including 24 hours-a-day, seven-day-a-week cartoons, movies, and music. There are video games, which are so well-animated these days that they have the intensity and production values of a feature film. There are multiplex movie theaters, allowing one to choose from as many as 15 different cinematic experiences. There are the internet and email. Kids aren’t the only ones who can spend hours wrapped in these technological pursuits. In my own pursuit of buying, selling, and blogging antiquarian books, I myself have been — ahem — known to spend excessive time in front of a computer screen. When I hear that someone under the age of 35 likes books and chooses reading over these other activities, I am thrilled, even if this type of person seems to be in the minority.

When I started teaching high school English, I took over the classes of another teacher mid-year. The curriculum was already set. On the agenda for the students in Advanced Placement English were William Shakespeare, Dante Alighieri, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Mario Vargas Llosa, Toni Morrison, Naguib Mahfouz, and Chinua Achebe — a challenging group of authors for most adults, let alone teenagers, even those qualified to be in Advanced Placement. I worried whether students would actually read the books or go straight to the Cliff’s Notes to pass their exams and write their essays. My experience teaching these books for six years was that those who already liked reading — and there were some who did — read the books. I could tell from the quality of questions asked, class discussion and written work that this was so. There were also those who just read the Cliff’s Notes to get by, much the same as I did the bare minimum in Algebra II/Trigonometry as a student. I just wanted to pass the class and get out so I could work on reading and writing, the subjects I really loved.

There were students whose strengths were in reading and writing. They tended to gravitate towards the most challenging English classes, to write for the school paper, and edit the school literary magazine. Now, mind you, I was glad to have these students, but it was also my job — actually, it was especially also my job — to teach the reluctant learners — the ones who just wanted to pass the class and move on — that there was something to be appreciated in good books and in articulating one’s thoughts clearly and concisely. This concept may seem obvious to us bookish folk, but I promise you that when you are trying to convince a roomful of 37 seventeen-year-olds of the merits of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment and its relevance to their daily lives, it is a tall order indeed.

So, how did I try to engage the reluctant learners? I did a number of things that would be regarded as unorthodox, but which I found to be effective. In addition to their traditional academic essays and tests, when they read Dante, my students designed their own high-school hells, complete with nine circles of hell created just for certain types of teachers, students, friends, administrators and classes. (Really, is there any more hellish time in life than high school? What a perfect chance to think about punishment fitting crime.)

When we read Dostoevsky, we spent a lot of time talking about Nietzsche’s concept of the Superman (ubermensch), who considers himself so valuable to society that he is above the law. Next, we read Crime and Punishment and discussed how Raskolnikov fits that concept when he commits murder, but, with his emotional breakdown after the murder, discovers that he is not indeed the Superman he had supposed himself to be. Finally, we watched Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, the film where two young men who think of themselves as perfect Nietzsche Superman candidates murder another young man just to see if they can get away with it and if they are indeed Supermen. When we compared the film to Dostoevsky, I tried to point out how the themes of the enduring classic books are transcendent — readers can recognize and relate to these themes down through the ages.

These supplementary activities (always done in tandem with more academic written assignments and tests) were the type of thing that helped some of my reluctant students to engage with the text. Did they work all of the time? No, but I do think they helped. Indeed, my Dante collection started as a modest collection of illustrated editions of The Divine Comedy to show students how the work had been interpreted differently by artists through the centuries.

I’m having a tough time articulating what I want to say in this post. (Ironic, for the English teacher to be without words, isn’t it?) I’ve covered why kids don’t read and how I got some to think about literature and how it relates to their teenage lives, which tend to revolve around relationships, film, art, and music. What I haven’t said is how this concept relates to introducing antiquarian books to the newcomer or even to someone who doesn’t yet know antiquarian books exist. I’ll cover that tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be able to see the connection then. My apologies for being so discursive today. Thanks for reading this far!

To be continued tomorrow.

Chapter 125 I’m a Question Mark?

One of my youngest brother’s most hated memories of school is when a high school teacher of his had a conference with our mom, telling her, among other things, “Your son is an enigma.” My brother, who was a pretty good student and an otherwise regular kid, did not want to be an enigma, an unknown, or a man of mystery. He was disgusted with his teacher.

I’ll preface this next part by saying that I don’t usually take internet quizzes, but since this one promised to tell me what quotation mark I’d be if I were a quotation mark, the former English teacher in me couldn’t resist. Apparently, enigmas run in my family:

You Are a Question Mark

You seek knowledge and insight in every form possible. You love learning. And while you know a lot, you don’t act like a know it all. You’re open to learning you’re wrong. You ask a lot of questions, collect a lot of data, and always dig deep to find out more. You’re naturally curious and inquisitive. You jump to ask a question when the opportunity arises. Your friends see you as interesting, insightful, and thought provoking. (But they’re not always up for the intense inquisitions that you love!) You excel in: Higher education You get along best with: The Comma

What Punctuation Mark Are You?

So, are these characteristics at all like mine?

Actually, yes. At least I’d like to think they are.

And, ironically, the person who sent me the quiz is a “comma”, the type of person with whom I am most compatible.

Unbelievable.

See you in the stacks!

Tomorrow: Intorducing Antiquarian Books to the Newcomer

Chapter 124 The Long Winter

I just finished reading a book I bought at a local library sale for a couple of dollars. It’s The Children’s Blizzard, by David Laskin. It is the heart-wrenching true tale of a horrible blizzard that hit the Midwest on January 12, 1888. From the book’s cover:

In three minutes, the front subtracted eighteen degrees from the air’s temperature. Then evening gathered in, and temperatures kept dropping in the northwest gale. By morning on Friday, January 13, 1888, more than a hundred children lay dead on the Dakota-Nebraska prairie.

I know. Cheery, uplifting mid-winter reading. I read this book because that same blizzard is the focus of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s The Long Winter, in which she chronicles what it was like to live through this and several other blizzards during that hard winter. In fact, The Hard Winter was Wilder’s original title for the book, but her publisher didn’t want to scare children, so the title was changed at the last minute to The Long Winter. Most of The Children’s Blizzard and Wilder’s The Long Winter are set in South Dakota, and Thoughtful Husband’s ancestors were living there at the time. Though most all of the family emigrated to California eventually, we have never heard a tale passed down that describes what it was like living through that winter. It must have been that bad. Too horrible to ever mention. (UPDATED: Per a reader’s comment, below, I went back and checked the Laskin book. Wilder’s book The Long Winter covers the winter of 1880-81, which was also a devastatingly cold and brutal winter. Apologies for the error.)

One reason I love Wilder’s books is that her descriptions of the seasons are wonderful. When I was a kid and read this book, I didn’t worry about Laura’s fate during the hard winter one bit. Ma and Pa, her loving parents would see them through the difficult blizzards. When I re-read this book as an adult and a parent responsible for young children, I realize that the Ingalls family was very close to starvation that winter. The horrible drifitng snow meant that no trains could get through, and even a family who had provisioned for winter ran short of wheat, meat, and even fuel for fires.

In January of that winter, the Ingalls family of six had one-half bushel of wheat, six potatoes and four pounds of beef to get them through until April, when it was expected that the railroad tracks would be clear enough for long enough to run the trains. Every time I read The Long Winter as an adult, I think to myself, “Oh my God. They are going to starve or freeze to death!” The family was reduced to grinding its own wheat in a coffee mill and twisting hay into logs for fire fuel. The family rarely ventured farther than the radius of heat put out by their tiny woodstove. Laura and her sisters even woke with frost on their quilts every morning. It must have been terrifying, and The Children’s Blizzard confirms Wilder’s dire description of that hard winter of 1888.

We had a month of rain in the Bay Area in January, followed by two short weeks of false spring. The false spring happens almost every February. We get about two weeks of sunny weather in the 70s. Just when we think it’s safe to hang up the umbrellas and take out shorts and t-shirts, the winter comes back with a vengeance. It’s now raining again, and expected to continue doing so for most of the rest February. It’s grey and cloudy all day every day. While we sorely need the precipitation, I’m getting tired of it. Then I re-read The Long Winter in a warm house with warm food and feel really silly complaining about a little rain.

One good thing the rain has done in combination with the false spring is this:

Huck planted these bulbs for me back in October. Nice to see that they have decided to pop up. For those of you living in the midst of a real long winter (compared to us Californians), hang in there. Spring is coming.

Chapter 123 Ten Good Reasons Why You Should Consider Attending the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar This Summer

1. You want to improve the quality of books you sell but don’t know how to go about doing that.

2. You want to meet other booksellers. Remember, booksellers who know you sometimes offer you first refusal on great material.

3. You want to be able to ask questions of and receive advice from those booksellers considered experts in the field.

4. You want to know more about on-line selling venues and how to sell books there — websites, databases, auctions, blogs.

5. You want to know more about managing an open shop.

6. You want to know more about how to exhibit at a book fair profitably.

7. You want to know how best to use technology in bookselling — whether its scanning book images for your catalogue or website or building your website.

8. You want to learn the names of the major reference books and bibliographies used by booksellers.

9. You want to be learn how to decipher collational formulas like this one: 2′ a-b2 A-L2 and others so complex they are too difficult to type here.

10. You want to be a better bookseller.

I’ve blogged about this great course before here, but I want to remind you that they are now excepting applications for this year’s course. You can read a great in-depth article that gives a day to day account of the seminar here. And, of course, the site for the seminar itself is here.

Don’t forget, both full and partial scholarships are offered and beginners are welcome (as are booksellers of all levels of expertise).

This course helped me make the transition from wanting to be a bookseller to understanding how to be bookseller. I recommend it highly. It’s so good I’ve considered attending it for a second time and I know booksellers who have attended more than once. Don’t be afraid to dream and don’t let yourself be intimidated by what you don’t know yet. I am writing that last sentence as much for me as I am for you.

See you in the stacks!

Chapter 122 Wanted: Extremely Rare Book By or About Pioneer Woman

I wrote recently about all of the interesting titles of books written by or about women pioneers, those brave souls who journeyed into the unknown west from the all-knowing east. They led ordinary lives filled with extraordinary challenges — starvation, lack of permanent shelter, lack of water, lack of money, wars with native tribes, wild animals, etc. Most of the titles of these books reflect this peril in some way, and most of them end with the narrator’s triumph and arrival at her western destination. After settling in the west, many of these pioneer women wrote books of poetry — Poetry of the Pacific, Souvenir of California, and The California Pioneer, to name a few — extolling the beauty and the virtues of their newfound home.

What I’ve never seen — and I wonder if it even exists — is a book by or about a pioneer woman titled something like this:

Should Have Stayed Home

While I’ve found numerous books describing hardship, I’ve never seen one where the author wishes she had never left home in the first place. Have you? Why is that, do you think? I know if I were a pioneer woman, I’d certainly have been wishing to be back in Boston or wherever I came from at the first sign of a busted wagon wheel, drifting snow, or a day without food. I can’t find any woman from the time who felt that way. Perhaps those like me actually did stay home. Perhaps those of us living with modern conveniences are not as tough as those hardy souls who hunted and grew their own food, made their own clothes, and birthed and often buried their own children. What do you think?

Chapter 121 Becoming an Antiquarian Bookseller: Knowledge Adds Value

I am knee deep in income tax preparations with Thoughtful Husband and slowly (oh so slowly) learning how and why this former academic must learn proper accounting techniqes. To save you from listening to my whining (though you may be able to hear it over the din of the calculator keys), I’m posting my most recent article for BookThink. Thanks for reading!

BECOMING AN ANTIQUARIAN BOOKSELLER
PART 1: KNOWLEDGE ADDS VALUE
By Chris Lowenstein

Last month I wrote an article that discusses the difference between a bookseller and an antiquarian bookseller, arriving at the conclusion that specialized knowledge allows an antiquarian bookseller to create value and, sometimes, even create new markets. Like all booksellers, the antiquarian bookseller will research the current price and availability of a particular book to determine its current market value. But unlike other booksellers, the antiquarian bookseller also researches the book to see if others have overlooked anything significant about it that would add to its value. When this type of research turns up something new, the antiquarian bookseller can, with a well-written and well-placed description, sometimes set his price above what others are asking, thus driving the market upward.

When I decided to become an antiquarian bookseller, I wondered how I could obtain the kind of specialized knowledge that adds value to books. Was this knowledge something I should possess innately? Was it something that could be taught, and if so, where could I go to learn it? Did antiquarian booksellers ever share their research secrets? In answer to these questions, I learned that several things help build the knowledge of an antiquarian bookseller: experience, education, and expansion. If you’re bored just listing books you find based on the prices others are asking for the same book, this article is for you.

When I started selling antiquarian books, I failed to take into account how my prior experience could help me. I was an English major in college and also taught high school English for several years. During my teenage years I worked in a bookstore, for a university library, and for a small publisher. While this might seem very literary, I had little if any exposure to antiquarian books at the time. Still, my education combined with my work experiences exposed me to the names of the high spots in literature and to the processes by which literature is marketed to and judged by consumers. This experience has turned out to be very beneficial, in terms of providing a good foundation of literary knowledge upon which I could build.

Wanting to learn all I could about antiquarian books, I read every book I could find on the subject, beginning with Nicholas Basbanes’ excellent series on the history of books and book collectors. A few years later, I’m still working my way through stacks of bookseller memoirs, collector reminiscences, and books about books. Whatever your experience prior to antiquarian books is, you can stand on the shoulders of the giants who came before us to get a good introduction to antiquarian books by reading what they’ve left behind.

Prior experience and self-education are good beginnings for an antiquarian bookseller; however, if you are serious about your career, you should plan to continue your formal education. In addition to reading about antiquarians and their books, several courses are available. David Gregor, ABAA bookseller travels to different parts of the country a few times a year offering two excellent, one-day seminars about book collecting and bookselling.

If you find you have the inclination for an overview of all the types of antiquarian booksellers available, take the week-long Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar. Offered at Colorado College in Colorado Springs, it features a diverse faculty made up of all different types of booksellers – internet only, open shop, librarian, book conservator, specialist dealer, etc. It covers the gamut from how to find and evaluate stock to buying at auction to writing a print catalogue to selling on the internet and attending book fairs.

The Seminar has existed for 30 years, offers both partial and full scholarships, and offers you the chance to meet other booksellers and to expand your knowledge. If you want to know exactly what topics are covered in Colorado, I also suggest you read Karen Isgur Bergsagel’s highly informative BookThink article about her experience in Colorado last summer here.

If you need less of an overview of antiquarian bookselling and more specific information about antiquarian books themselves, consider Rare Book School at the University of Virginia. Founded in 1983 by Terry Belanger (recipient of the 2005 MacArthur “Genius” Grant for his rare book prowess) , Rare Book School offers courses with names like “Book Illustration Processes to 1900”, “Introduction to the Principles of Bibliographic Description”, and “Introduction to Illuminated Manuscripts”. If you find yourself interested in these subjects, antiquarian bookselling may be just the thing for you! Like the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar, Rare Book School also offers scholarships. Both organizations realize the importance of helping antiquarian booksellers, particularly those of us new to the trade, learn to be professionals. New booksellers with serious intentions of becoming professionals are welcome.

Antiquarian booksellers must learn to do thorough research. Good research skills give you the ability to turn up some new or little-noticed fact about a book you are selling, and they are key. If you want to be an antiquarian bookseller, learn about the resources for research – bibliographies and reference books. Learn how to cite your resources properly in a book description. Rare Book School offers many courses that can help in this area.

UCLA also offers a smaller but similar program for those of us closer to the West Coast. Among the courses offered this summer are: “Descriptive Bibliography”, “Book Illustration Processes to 1900”, and “The Book in the West”.

I’ve attended a David Gregor seminar and the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar and recommend both very highly. I plan to attend the University of Virginia Rare Book School this summer, and, if I can gain admission, the UCLA Rare Book School as well.

Closer to home, you can easily expand your horizons by getting to know other booksellers. Those of us who sell only on the internet can sometimes feel as though we are working in a vacuum, and meeting other booksellers can alleviate that feeling, as well as give you a sounding board for your bookselling ideas. Once you make a good friend, you can talk about prices, compare your condition standards, etc. You might even get to know another bookseller well enough to share a booth and exhibit at a book fair or to purchase a very expensive book together. Having colleagues who can assist in fields outside your own specialty and whom you can sometimes assist is a priceless asset.

Though they are often crowded and don’t often yield many antiquarian finds, go to your local library sale. Frequent attendance will help you learn to distinguish edition and condition — things you can’t learn by spending time in an antiquarian shop, because all of the books there are only very good or better condition. At every library sale buy at least one book on the speculation that it may be valuable. Don’t use your scanner, and pay attention to what instincts lead you to choose that book. Is it a beautiful binding or lack thereof? A famous author or illustrator? Take your speculative purchase home and research it. If you purchase a mistake — a book whose value does not lie in its financial return — you likely haven’t spent too much money because you purchased it at a library sale.

Another way to expand your knowledge of antiquarian books is to study the catalogues of other antiquarian booksellers. These can help you to get a sense of the market, and more importantly, demonstrate what fine researchers and scholars many antiquarian booksellers are. Auction catalogues are useful to study as well. Many booksellers and auction houses will even send their catalogue right through the computer as a pdf file. Services like Americana Exchange and American Book Prices Current can give you the results of auctions so you can see if a particular book sells above or below its estimate.

Illustrated catalogues are particularly good for getting a handle on evaluating condition. The next time you see an illustrated catalogue, try reading the descriptions and comparing the images of the books with the condition notes. You’ll get a sense of how much evaluation of condition varies among different sellers, but also of how much it does not. There are certain standards that go into deciding something is Fine vs. Very Good and Very Good vs. Good or Fair. Familiarizing yourself with those standards is one of the best ways to help yourself learn to choose better books.

Finally, go to book fairs, whether as a spectator or as an exhibitor. See what other sellers are offering, in what condition and at what prices. Talk to the other booksellers. Get to know your market and who are the top specialists in particular subjects. Book fairs are also great places to scout books. A book fair is like having 50 or more antiquarian shops in one location at the same time. It’s one stop shopping!

Being an antiquarian bookseller takes a great deal of work, but, if you like research and learn to use your resources in a professional manner, it can yield great returns. You need to be willing to rely on your experience, increase your education, and expand your contacts in the bookselling world. If you can do so, you will be well on your way to becoming an antiquarian bookseller.

See you in the stacks!

Chapter 120 My Funny Valentine, Or, Skateboarding, Plane Crashes, and Getting My Son to Read

Valentine’s day was last Thursday. I should have been planning a romantic candlight dinner with Thoughtful Husband. I should have been writing a love letter to my family. Instead, I was book hunting with my fourth grade son, Tom.

When I picked up Tom and Huck at school that day, Tom reminded me that he has a book report due in two weeks. This time, the book had to be in the adventure genre. Last time he did a book report, it had to be in the fantasy genre. Tom is a rather reluctant reader. He reads for homework, and occasionally for pleasure at bedtime, but he would always much rather be outside performing death-defying feats like tree-climbing, bike racing, and skateboarding:

I’ve tried to offer him book after book that I think he would enjoy to no avail. This is the child who, when he came to visit my booth at the recent San Francisco Antiquarian Book and Paper Fair, said, upon seeing thousands of amazing rare books: “This isn’t what I thought a book fair was. I thought it would be outside and that there would be rides. It’s just a lot of books.” Well . . . yes.

So, off we went after school to our local public library so he could find a title. “It has to be at least 150 pages, Mom,” he told me. I showed him several books.

“How about Tom Sawyer? Every kid should read this book.”

“No, Mom. That’s 227 pages.”

Heaven forbid the boy do any extra work. OK. What else can I offer? Perhaps something more contemporary.

“How about Inkspell?” (a bestseller for kids in his age group)

“No. Mom, it’s too long.”

When I married Thoughtful Husband years ago, I always thought Valentine’s would be a special day for the two of us. We would take long walks holding hands. We would have a quiet dinner for two. Roses and chocolate would be involved. Our darling, well-behaved children would be asleep and never interrupt us. (I was young and stupid then.) Trying to coerce my fourth grader into reading a book is not how I envisioned spending Valentine’s Day at all. At this rate, I’d be lucky to see Thoughtful Husband by midnight.

Finally, we saw a book shelved face-out. The cover had pictures of skateboarders. “Hey, Tom, what about this one?” I offered it gingerly, hoping against hope that it would be at least 150 pages.

He took it from my hand, looking first at the page count: over 200 of them.

“Read the flap on the dustjacket before you put it down,” I insisted. “You might decide it’s a story you want to read.” We needed to get out of there and get homework done. We also had to go to a pizza party for Thoughtful Husband’s cousin’s birthday (yes, on Valentine’s Day — again, not what my younger and stupider self had initially imagined doing on said day).

The book I handed him was Getting Air by Dan Gutman. Here, in a nutshell, is the synopsis:

Grade 4–6—Thirteen-year-old Jimmy, his little sister Julia, and his two best friends embark on a cross-country flight to stay with family in California, where the boys hope to get sponsorship for their skateboarding club. Jimmy helps an elderly knitter with her bag, and learns she is part of a group who is traveling to a knitting convention. When terrorists charge the cockpit and take over the plane, the boys leap into action, killing the hijackers with the help of the women and their knitting needles. They then discover that the pilots are dead and that the plane is out of fuel, and when they crash, the real story begins—survival in the deep forest. It may be highly improbable that the only survivors are the kids, the elderly knitter, and the flight attendant, but the tale remains enjoyable as the silly banter is preserved and the can-do attitude of the youngsters is easy to appreciate. The boys learn from the two adults and Julia, whose girl-scout knowledge gains everyone’s admiration, and they make it seem like almost dying in a fiery plane crash can be kind of fun. A true adventure book, with high-spirited and fundamentally good boys as the central characters, Getting Air should find a wide audience.—John Leighton, Brooklyn Public Library, NY

Well. OK.

It’s not something I would have picked myself, but I think that it certainly falls in the adventure category.

“Mom. Let’s get this. This is all about skateboarders.”

“But, Tom, it’s more than 150 pages. Are you sure you can finish it without me reminding you to read it every day?”

“Mom. We. Have. To. Get. This. One. Skateboarders!”

We checked out the book. Tom started reading it when we got home from the library. He was still reading it at the pizza party for Thoughtful Husband’s cousin’s birthday. He barely spoke to anyone because he was so enthralled by the story. I am the only mother in the world who would praise her son’s antisocial behavior at a party because at last he was reading. READING! And even able to tune out the ruckus around him. Who knew this child could focus like this? Not me.

Tom was still reading on the drive home and in bed last night. When he turned out his light, he said to me the words every book-loving, former-English-teaching, antiquarian-bookselling mother wants to hear:

“Mom. This book is so good that I don’t even want to watch tv or play video games. I just have to finish this book.”

Despite the unconventional way of celebrating the day, I went to bed feeling like I had just received the best Valentine in the world.

I checked Tom’s book mark Friday morning when I put the book in his backpack to take to school. He was already on page 93.

Though I’d have preferred Tom Sawyer, I’m willing to accept plane-crash-surviving-skateboarders. It’s a start.

See you in the stacks!