After reading Nialle's post about what to recommend to young readers, I got to thinking about my fictional genres of interest, and how older readers might enjoy diving into such things. My primary fictional interests are mysteries, science fiction / fantasy, and horror. After perusing my own personal collection, I discovered that the latter is the current genre that seems to occupy the most shelf space. The trend over the past few years in young adult fiction has certainly been on the horror- and fantasy-oriented slant, but there are books in those particular genres that can be appreciated by the young adult and adult alike. For this outing, I'll focus on those novels that will probably appeal most to an audience of 17 and up.
With the interest in the horror genre, I love the fact that there are dozens of writers who have had a lasting impact on the genre and on the popular imagination in such a way that their novels are still relevant today. Nialle mentioned Bram Stoker's Dracula and Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire; both are fantastic, atmospheric novels. Stoker captured the 'dread of the other' in his novel, while Rice emphasized the sensuality and the appeal of the darkness (both literal night and the metaphorical darkness of the human soul). We wouldn't have either of these stories without J.S. LeFanu's Carmilla, originally published in 1872, 25 years before Dracula captured imaginations.
While vampires and werewolves are fun to read about, and certainly plentiful in the literary spectrum, there is one genre that has always drawn me in, because it's a type of story that transcends its simple origins in horror and expands into mystery, literature and fantasy alike. The ghost story, as the Haunted Bookshop can tell you, never goes out of style. As long as there have been families and camp fires and people looking for a good scare, there have been ghost stories. So long as there are writers and those who love to read, there will be ghost stories that tease and tempt the imagination with
Henry James wrote one of my personal favorites with The Turn of the Screw (1898), the famous story of a young governess at an English estate who must cope with two disturbed children and the ghosts that seem to stalk their every move. Without James' influence and his masterful story, Anne Rice's own son, Christopher, would not have written his brilliant A Density of Souls, as much a coming of age story as a ghost story. For teenage readers looking for a grown up step up and over Lois Duncan and Christopher Pike's creepy thrillers, Density is a creepy, moody piece of storytelling, with compelling leads, a heartbreaking tragedy that sends the characters on their paths, a ghostly presence lurking throughout, and the ultimate transition from teenage child to young adult. It remains a favorite of mine to recommend, and a personal favorite in my own collection.
The idea of a ghost who haunts a person's every waking moment finds its place in plenty of classic tales, but in contemporary mystery fiction, I think it finds its biggest proponent in John Connolly, an Irish writers, whose Charlie Parker mysteries focus on a truly tragic main character who taps into the darkness of the soul better than any other character I've encountered in the past ten years. Parker's ghosts are seen by him and him alone, and they are of his late wife and daughter; shifting between malevolence and comfort, these two lonely spirits plague our, hero, even at the times when his life should be lifted up and out of the darkness.
Instead, Connolly writes Parker as a character who seems to seek out the darkness, the unknown, the ghosts of the literal and psychological worlds, because those spirits might be more dangerous than any living thing he might encounter. Fittingly, Connolly titled his first novel Every Dead Thing, and it is guaranteed to terrify you, break your heart and give you an understanding of a character whom you come to care for. Using the ghost story as a springboard for teaching a character how to grow and change, despite the horror of his life, is the beauty of Connolly's still-running series. Charlie grows as a character, and his heartbreaks and ghosts, of which there are many, make him stronger.
Embracing the ghost story is a fantastic way to get to know the horror genre itself. Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House is a masterful haunted house story, while Richard Matheson's excursions into the horror genre rely on suspense as much as terror. A Stir of Echoes looks at the horror of mediumship, channeling ghosts, and the equal terror of discovering that life is never as it seems to the outside world. Both of these novels, written in the 1950s, still reverberate with audiences today. Jackson and Matheson are both masters of the horror genre, their books made into films (at last two version of Jackson's novel as film exist), and still scaring audiences today.
To embrace the ghost story is to embrace horror novels themselves. Knowing that ghosts never go out of style is half the fun of this profession. Ghosts haunt books, and sometimes books are ghosts, drifting from place to place, having new and interesting impacts upon people and places. Next time you need a good story, check out a scary one. Who says it has to be Halloween to enjoy a little ghost?
Until next week, fellow bibliophiles.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Ghostwritten No. 3: Young Bibliophiles
One day a very shy girl came in to my shop - so shy that she checked my facial expression to see if it were all right for her to touch the books on the shelves. She was in the Young Adult section, and she seemed to know just what she wanted. Very specific books. It took a little coaxing to get her to tell me why she'd chosen those particular ones. I practically cried when she explained: Her teacher had instructed her class to make kits in case of house fires. Flashlight, toothbrush, change of underclothes, stuff like that. This dear girl was buying extra copies of her favorite books to put in the pillowcase she'd grab if she had to evacuate quickly.
When I talk about the young readers I love, I'm not talking about the ones reading the Hottest New Series. I appreciate that kids are reading - it's no secret that YA is the fastest-growing part of the book market, and I'm glad to hear it - and I really like a few of the hot new books, such as Collins' The Hunger Games. But I also think that some of what passes for YA fiction now is tasteless. Poorly written. I won't carry that, no matter how much the kids want it. I'm here to show them the good stuff.
And the thing is, they like the good stuff if I can get them to try. Moreover, once they get into the good stuff, they want well-made editions of the good stuff. They want old editions, hardcovers, or copies with renowned illustrators. These aren't kids just consuming products designed for their market. They are genuine bibliophiles, the kind that some of my cranky colleagues think don't exist anymore.
You hear it at least as often as I do, probably. Kids don't love books as books. They want to see the movie adaptation. They won't read it unless it's popular. They don't want to read classics, not even Newbery winners. Blah blah blah. Of course there are some kids like that, just as there have been for generations - why do you think L. M. Montgomery's publisher forced her to write more Avonlea books than she wanted to write? And if you know anything about your Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys, you know that they were great for a while and then settled into bland routines. Brand-name books for kids have been around since the invention of books for kids, so no curmudgeon now living can claim that kids these days are different from kids back when.
Anyway, every book collector was once a child, and the species is not endangered, despite dark forecasts from those who think the e-book will replace the print book (it won't; maybe I'll write about that another time). Maybe the book collectors aren't as interested in ephemera concerning Grover Cleveland as they might have been a century ago, but the new collectors love their selection at least as passionately.
What are the kids collecting? Funny thing: not series. They'll get all the books in a shortish series (Daniel Handler's Series of Unfortunate Events, at thirteen and a half volumes, is as far as they'll go without parental financing) and read them all, but that's not the kind of collecting we're talking about. No, what they want for their personal libraries are things like:
- Attractive, centenarian editions of Mark Twain's novels. Especially Connecticut Yankee.
- Illustrated editions of Arthurian legends, Jules Verne's novels, Sherlock Holmes, and epic poetry, as well as mythology texts, especially if they have cover art mimicking illuminated manuscripts.
- Old schoolbooks. When I say old here, I mean more than 100 years. Also old, illustrated books on physics or anatomy. Gray's Anatomy is one of my biggest movers in the young collector market, though they have to settle for later reprints since the centenarian editions are pricier than most allowances can cover.
Think that's shocking? I would like to announce a startling and profoundly meaningful fact to the grumps: I have patrons under the age of fourteen who save up for particular books. Particular old books. Clothbound, gilt titled duodecimo type books. So there.
And I'm not talking about kids in their late teens, either. I'm talking about the 10-14 age group. One of my most serious collectors of 19th century math primers couldn't have been twelve yet when he started buying the things. I set aside Modern Library editions of certain authors for a thirteen-year-old. A fourteen-year-old asked me very seriously which translation of The Inferno of Dante was better - and understood perfectly when I asked whether he wanted a close translation or a poetic interpretation - and chose the dual text edition that wasn't the best translation in the end, because it was 86 years old, gilt titled, and had the original Italian and modern English in facing text, so that he could try to learn some of Dante's Italian.
One patron, according to her parents, actually made aisles of bookshelves in her bedroom, divided into sections and organized within the sections. I'm not commenting on how many books she has - it's the fact that she organized them by how good they were. And then rearranged them as her tastes evolved. And sometimes rearranged them thematically, in ways that made me stop and think about some books in ways I hadn't before, when she told me her latest spatial system.
Okay, so you know a kid who has only read the latest three- or four-volume pop series and, when asked about the book, comments only that the actor who plays the male lead in the films is really hot. So do I. But just because they haven't discovered books as books yet doesn't mean they won't. Here are a few tricks to try:
1. Of course there are new vampire series, but none of them are as good as the original vampire books. Bram Stoker's, for example. (This only works on kids who don't have hangups about 19th century vocabulary, so be careful.)
2. You know what's really scary? No, of course your teacher wants you to try Edgar Allan Poe. No, there's this book I read about.... (Try "a girl who gets a job as a governess, so basically a nanny, and she starts hearing crazy laughter at night, and then this random fire breaks out" = Jane Eyre. Sound too old for them? Ask if they've read Pride and Prejudice. A remarkably large number have.)
3. Oh, that? It's totally copycat. The author basically used the same plot as... (Be creative. I've actually gotten kids to read The Picture of Dorian Gray by arguing that its characters have the same relationships to each other as in Interview with a Vampire.)
4. Find something older that is like what the kid just finished. Cooper's The Dark is Rising is great for Harry Potter fans out of material; Brian Jacques' fans love Le Guin's Earthsea books while waiting for the latest Redwall book. And if they're still hung up on the latest teen romance/paranormal series, try to find a non-dorky-looking edition (tragically, many look dorky) of Seventh Son by Orson Scott Card, adding a note that the main character gets pretty messed up before he reunites with the girl he first met when she was four, who has gotten really bitter herself, but then, dot dot dot, you know? (Bonus: Alvin, the main male character, is not a manipulative stalker, and neither he nor Peggy are solipsistic or fashionably depressed.)
5. If you're not actually living with the kid, you can play the Aloof Game. This is a total blast, just not recommended for parents or guardians. It goes like this: if the kid asks you for a pulp tripe book, look preoccupied and say it's with the "kiddie books." Then look at the kid and correct yourself: "I'm sorry, young adult." The kid should look offended. If not, add something like "You should be able to find it easily - it's thinner than the other ones." Or say, "Do you know how to look for a book by the author's name?" Then walk with the kid over to the books like you're afraid the kid will smudge peanut butter on something, and tell the kid which letter to look under, but then act like you've forgotten the kid is there while you touch the spine of a really good book with a provocative title, like The Witch of Blackbird Pond or Hatchet, or an obscure one like Haroun and the Sea of Stories, and then turn away. When they ask, it is very important to say exactly this: "You'll enjoy it more when you understand it better." - They never fall for the old "You're too young" line, but the implication that they are too inexperienced nabs them almost without fail.
None of these work? I've got more ideas. Ask, or bring the kid to our place. We have ways of making these beepless, not-network-enabled, non-oversexed, unadapted-to-film glued stacks of paper somehow still irresistible. It's nothing really special, just that we have practice getting young people to tell us what kind of story they would read, plus we have a huge collection of books we've already read. Sometimes it just takes a stranger listening and sympathetically picking one special book. Or maybe it's the mystique. Booksellers, for some crazy reason, still have mystique.
Also we sparkle in daylight.
No, seriously. It's the gilt that flakes off the spines of really old books.
***
Next week: Is the printed book dying? Will e-books kill it? Why am I actually totally thrilled about Sony e-readers when it's my job to sell physical books?
When I talk about the young readers I love, I'm not talking about the ones reading the Hottest New Series. I appreciate that kids are reading - it's no secret that YA is the fastest-growing part of the book market, and I'm glad to hear it - and I really like a few of the hot new books, such as Collins' The Hunger Games. But I also think that some of what passes for YA fiction now is tasteless. Poorly written. I won't carry that, no matter how much the kids want it. I'm here to show them the good stuff.
And the thing is, they like the good stuff if I can get them to try. Moreover, once they get into the good stuff, they want well-made editions of the good stuff. They want old editions, hardcovers, or copies with renowned illustrators. These aren't kids just consuming products designed for their market. They are genuine bibliophiles, the kind that some of my cranky colleagues think don't exist anymore.
You hear it at least as often as I do, probably. Kids don't love books as books. They want to see the movie adaptation. They won't read it unless it's popular. They don't want to read classics, not even Newbery winners. Blah blah blah. Of course there are some kids like that, just as there have been for generations - why do you think L. M. Montgomery's publisher forced her to write more Avonlea books than she wanted to write? And if you know anything about your Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys, you know that they were great for a while and then settled into bland routines. Brand-name books for kids have been around since the invention of books for kids, so no curmudgeon now living can claim that kids these days are different from kids back when.
Anyway, every book collector was once a child, and the species is not endangered, despite dark forecasts from those who think the e-book will replace the print book (it won't; maybe I'll write about that another time). Maybe the book collectors aren't as interested in ephemera concerning Grover Cleveland as they might have been a century ago, but the new collectors love their selection at least as passionately.
What are the kids collecting? Funny thing: not series. They'll get all the books in a shortish series (Daniel Handler's Series of Unfortunate Events, at thirteen and a half volumes, is as far as they'll go without parental financing) and read them all, but that's not the kind of collecting we're talking about. No, what they want for their personal libraries are things like:
- Attractive, centenarian editions of Mark Twain's novels. Especially Connecticut Yankee.
- Illustrated editions of Arthurian legends, Jules Verne's novels, Sherlock Holmes, and epic poetry, as well as mythology texts, especially if they have cover art mimicking illuminated manuscripts.
- Old schoolbooks. When I say old here, I mean more than 100 years. Also old, illustrated books on physics or anatomy. Gray's Anatomy is one of my biggest movers in the young collector market, though they have to settle for later reprints since the centenarian editions are pricier than most allowances can cover.
Think that's shocking? I would like to announce a startling and profoundly meaningful fact to the grumps: I have patrons under the age of fourteen who save up for particular books. Particular old books. Clothbound, gilt titled duodecimo type books. So there.
And I'm not talking about kids in their late teens, either. I'm talking about the 10-14 age group. One of my most serious collectors of 19th century math primers couldn't have been twelve yet when he started buying the things. I set aside Modern Library editions of certain authors for a thirteen-year-old. A fourteen-year-old asked me very seriously which translation of The Inferno of Dante was better - and understood perfectly when I asked whether he wanted a close translation or a poetic interpretation - and chose the dual text edition that wasn't the best translation in the end, because it was 86 years old, gilt titled, and had the original Italian and modern English in facing text, so that he could try to learn some of Dante's Italian.
One patron, according to her parents, actually made aisles of bookshelves in her bedroom, divided into sections and organized within the sections. I'm not commenting on how many books she has - it's the fact that she organized them by how good they were. And then rearranged them as her tastes evolved. And sometimes rearranged them thematically, in ways that made me stop and think about some books in ways I hadn't before, when she told me her latest spatial system.
Okay, so you know a kid who has only read the latest three- or four-volume pop series and, when asked about the book, comments only that the actor who plays the male lead in the films is really hot. So do I. But just because they haven't discovered books as books yet doesn't mean they won't. Here are a few tricks to try:
1. Of course there are new vampire series, but none of them are as good as the original vampire books. Bram Stoker's, for example. (This only works on kids who don't have hangups about 19th century vocabulary, so be careful.)
2. You know what's really scary? No, of course your teacher wants you to try Edgar Allan Poe. No, there's this book I read about.... (Try "a girl who gets a job as a governess, so basically a nanny, and she starts hearing crazy laughter at night, and then this random fire breaks out" = Jane Eyre. Sound too old for them? Ask if they've read Pride and Prejudice. A remarkably large number have.)
3. Oh, that? It's totally copycat. The author basically used the same plot as... (Be creative. I've actually gotten kids to read The Picture of Dorian Gray by arguing that its characters have the same relationships to each other as in Interview with a Vampire.)
4. Find something older that is like what the kid just finished. Cooper's The Dark is Rising is great for Harry Potter fans out of material; Brian Jacques' fans love Le Guin's Earthsea books while waiting for the latest Redwall book. And if they're still hung up on the latest teen romance/paranormal series, try to find a non-dorky-looking edition (tragically, many look dorky) of Seventh Son by Orson Scott Card, adding a note that the main character gets pretty messed up before he reunites with the girl he first met when she was four, who has gotten really bitter herself, but then, dot dot dot, you know? (Bonus: Alvin, the main male character, is not a manipulative stalker, and neither he nor Peggy are solipsistic or fashionably depressed.)
5. If you're not actually living with the kid, you can play the Aloof Game. This is a total blast, just not recommended for parents or guardians. It goes like this: if the kid asks you for a pulp tripe book, look preoccupied and say it's with the "kiddie books." Then look at the kid and correct yourself: "I'm sorry, young adult." The kid should look offended. If not, add something like "You should be able to find it easily - it's thinner than the other ones." Or say, "Do you know how to look for a book by the author's name?" Then walk with the kid over to the books like you're afraid the kid will smudge peanut butter on something, and tell the kid which letter to look under, but then act like you've forgotten the kid is there while you touch the spine of a really good book with a provocative title, like The Witch of Blackbird Pond or Hatchet, or an obscure one like Haroun and the Sea of Stories, and then turn away. When they ask, it is very important to say exactly this: "You'll enjoy it more when you understand it better." - They never fall for the old "You're too young" line, but the implication that they are too inexperienced nabs them almost without fail.
None of these work? I've got more ideas. Ask, or bring the kid to our place. We have ways of making these beepless, not-network-enabled, non-oversexed, unadapted-to-film glued stacks of paper somehow still irresistible. It's nothing really special, just that we have practice getting young people to tell us what kind of story they would read, plus we have a huge collection of books we've already read. Sometimes it just takes a stranger listening and sympathetically picking one special book. Or maybe it's the mystique. Booksellers, for some crazy reason, still have mystique.
Also we sparkle in daylight.
No, seriously. It's the gilt that flakes off the spines of really old books.
***
Next week: Is the printed book dying? Will e-books kill it? Why am I actually totally thrilled about Sony e-readers when it's my job to sell physical books?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
First Officer's Log - No 2: A (Fan-tastic) Day In the Life and the Bookseller's Joy
Bookshops are one of those places where you cannot place any kind of bet on how the day will progress. Anything, and I do mean anything, can happen. It's half the fun of this profession.
Every Sunday when I open the doors of the shop, I know that I can't make any expectations about how the day will go or what will happen. Usually I'm the ringmaster and Luke is my second in command, while Logan and Nierme flirt and talk with customers the whole day long. Sometimes, worn out from their feline duties, they curl up on boxes behind the counter and sleep, or they find a nice warm spot on the desk and steal my pens until I offer a good pet on the head or a scritch behind the ears.
That said, Sundays are absolutely unpredictable in the way that small businesses go. The day can start out slow and pick up and then get slow and pick up, doing a mountain effect all day, or do a complete flat plain of quiet, and sometimes it will be rat-a-tat-tat crazy all day long. Thankfully, today has been one of those days where the unexpected keeps happening, and it's the good kind of unexpected.
From the father and his two young sons who are my first customers of the day to the older couple from out of town who just want a nice place to relax. To the young couple celebrating their anniversary who buy each other gifts before asking Luke and me where a good place to celebrate their dinner would be, to the regulars who come in and chat about books and life in general. There are the college students who drift in seeking out a good book for summer reading now that school is done, and the girl whose interests are all over the shop, and she seems to pick a book from every section.
There are the young families whose kids want to chase the cats, and the girl who wanders in, sees a puppet, squeals, and proceeds to harass her boyfriend with said puppet during their entire visit. There are the regulars who pick out a book or two before settling in at the back table to read. There is the man who brings in a play based upon old Ann Bannon novels and is thrilled when we have the novels in stock. My final customer of the day is a visiting philosopher from Egypt, whose trip to Iowa City brought him back to us in our new location.
My favorite customers are the ones who want to talk about books, any kinds of books, and especially the customers I can connect with. Today, I had one of those rare encounters that reminds me how small the world is, and how fantastic it is being in this business. An older man came in with his friends, and after exploring for a bit, he asked me about an old antique book on the Black Hills of South Dakota. When I pulled the book from the case, he mentioned growing up in the Hills, and I replied that my mother had as well, and her parents and brother still lived there. When he mentioned where his family had lived, I knew the place. We chatted a bit, and while he didn't buy that book he chose a few more that he would take home with him. I was lucky enough to have one of those experiences where (at the risk of sounding cliche), a book becomes something other than paper and glue between boards and cloth.
There are special moments, I feel, that only booksellers can have. Books are one of those things that cross generations, state lines, international borders, and, of course, trade from hand to hand through used bookshops. Sometimes, I'm lucky enough to have that moment where a particular book has that ability to connect two people across generations and state lines. Maybe I'm a book romantic at heart, but books are a lifeline between people. When a friend or a customer can tell me that they remember the first book they ever bought from me, then I know something special has occurred.
Booksellers are a truly privileged people. We connect with people on a level that I'm not sure any other profession has. It can be a tough job, sometimes, because days are never predictable in terms of sales or in terms of traffic, but when a truly fantastic day can be had, then it is always worth it.
I can't ever predict how Sundays will flow, but today was a particularly wonderful day and I felt that I should share it. Just like a good book.
Until next week, fellow bibliophiles.
Every Sunday when I open the doors of the shop, I know that I can't make any expectations about how the day will go or what will happen. Usually I'm the ringmaster and Luke is my second in command, while Logan and Nierme flirt and talk with customers the whole day long. Sometimes, worn out from their feline duties, they curl up on boxes behind the counter and sleep, or they find a nice warm spot on the desk and steal my pens until I offer a good pet on the head or a scritch behind the ears.
That said, Sundays are absolutely unpredictable in the way that small businesses go. The day can start out slow and pick up and then get slow and pick up, doing a mountain effect all day, or do a complete flat plain of quiet, and sometimes it will be rat-a-tat-tat crazy all day long. Thankfully, today has been one of those days where the unexpected keeps happening, and it's the good kind of unexpected.
From the father and his two young sons who are my first customers of the day to the older couple from out of town who just want a nice place to relax. To the young couple celebrating their anniversary who buy each other gifts before asking Luke and me where a good place to celebrate their dinner would be, to the regulars who come in and chat about books and life in general. There are the college students who drift in seeking out a good book for summer reading now that school is done, and the girl whose interests are all over the shop, and she seems to pick a book from every section.
There are the young families whose kids want to chase the cats, and the girl who wanders in, sees a puppet, squeals, and proceeds to harass her boyfriend with said puppet during their entire visit. There are the regulars who pick out a book or two before settling in at the back table to read. There is the man who brings in a play based upon old Ann Bannon novels and is thrilled when we have the novels in stock. My final customer of the day is a visiting philosopher from Egypt, whose trip to Iowa City brought him back to us in our new location.
My favorite customers are the ones who want to talk about books, any kinds of books, and especially the customers I can connect with. Today, I had one of those rare encounters that reminds me how small the world is, and how fantastic it is being in this business. An older man came in with his friends, and after exploring for a bit, he asked me about an old antique book on the Black Hills of South Dakota. When I pulled the book from the case, he mentioned growing up in the Hills, and I replied that my mother had as well, and her parents and brother still lived there. When he mentioned where his family had lived, I knew the place. We chatted a bit, and while he didn't buy that book he chose a few more that he would take home with him. I was lucky enough to have one of those experiences where (at the risk of sounding cliche), a book becomes something other than paper and glue between boards and cloth.
There are special moments, I feel, that only booksellers can have. Books are one of those things that cross generations, state lines, international borders, and, of course, trade from hand to hand through used bookshops. Sometimes, I'm lucky enough to have that moment where a particular book has that ability to connect two people across generations and state lines. Maybe I'm a book romantic at heart, but books are a lifeline between people. When a friend or a customer can tell me that they remember the first book they ever bought from me, then I know something special has occurred.
Booksellers are a truly privileged people. We connect with people on a level that I'm not sure any other profession has. It can be a tough job, sometimes, because days are never predictable in terms of sales or in terms of traffic, but when a truly fantastic day can be had, then it is always worth it.
I can't ever predict how Sundays will flow, but today was a particularly wonderful day and I felt that I should share it. Just like a good book.
Until next week, fellow bibliophiles.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Ghostwriting No. 2 : Old and Rare Books
You've all heard the stories about books found in an attic or old house that turned out to be worth thousands of dollars. You might have some old books of your own - and someone might have told you they're not worth anything. What's going on here? Aren't old books valuable?
As with any collector's item, an old book's monetary value is based on market demand, which is hard to gauge. Researching the prices for yourself on the internet can be tricky if you don't know the right places to look, because most websites with books for sale show what people are asking for a book. They don't tell you how often copies of those books sell at that price. If you learn where to look, you can get information, but then there's one more caveat that is also true for any collector's market: a dealer won't pay you the price at which the book will sell. It's not personal, and it's not a cheat. An expert needs to make a profit or change jobs. Basic economics.
So how do you know what you've got and what's a fair price? There's an incredible amount to know about this, but let me tell you three simple things you can check to get an idea of what you've got.
1. Condition. If you want to sell at a collector's item price, the book has to be in excellent condition. Not just good for its age - excellent. Part of what drives the price in collectors' markets is the fact that, after fifty or a hundred or two hundred years, most things get damaged, and collectors will pay money for the few left that aren't. If your book has any of the following defects, then it probably has no value at all:
- Mold
- Missing pages or parts of pages
- Library marks (there are exceptions to this in rare cases)
- Broken binding (unless the book is worth enough to repair, also a rare case)
Beyond that, a book dealer will check for writing on the pages, little yellow or brown spots called 'foxing,' stains on pages or cover, scuff marks or fraying on the cover, loose stitching in the binding, and other damage that will lower the book's value. Even just a little damage can slash the price heavily if the book is common or not particularly in demand. For example, in the 1800's a lot of writers wanted to write stories like Pride and Prejudice, and some of them just weren't very good. If you have a pretty old book, even one with gilt decorations on the cover and no writing inside, and the endpapers - the pages that attach to the insides of the front and back cover - are split down the middle with cloth showing through, and it's one of those just not very good not Pride and Prejudice novels, you have a pretty old book, not one worth money.
2. Production Quality. If you own an inexpensive book from before 1980, you've probably noticed that the pages have already started to turn yellow or even a little brown. This is called age-toning, and it's a sign that the publisher didn't use high quality paper, which means that the book wasn't made to last, which in turn probably means the book is either common or wasn't expected to become memorable. Cheap paper was also popular with pirate and reprint publishers. A very few pirated editions have some value, and even some of the books from reprint or other cheap publishers, but these are very uncommon, especially since cheap paper eventually makes a book useless as a book. After a hundred years, some cheap paper turns dark brown and brittle to the point that the text is unreadable and the pages actually break off.
Books that were made to last - books made with high-quality, low-acidity paper - are what the collectors want. If the pages of your books are still mostly white (and keeping them out of hot and wet areas is a good way to help them stay white), or better yet if they're still mostly white and have a sort of fabric-like texture to them, that's a sign of possible value. Not a promise of possible value, because since the invention of books, there have always been rich, crazy people who paid artists to make really beautiful, high quality copies of books that have no worth to anyone but the person who commissioned the book. But white paper in an old book means someone wanted the book to have value in the future, and clean white paper means someone who owned the book thought the book did have value and deserved care and preservation.
3. Age. It is true that very old books in very good condition made from very good materials tend to have some value. So how old is very old? Opinions vary based on demand. One person might be very excited to have a book that is one hundred years old, regardless of its content, and another person might specialize in collecting books from the late seventeenth century. Our general rule for 'very old' is about 150 years. If someone has kept a book well since around the time of the U. S. Civil War, it's probably a book worth keeping.
That said, not every old book is very valuable, and it's not true that the older the book gets, the more valuable it is. One of the most valuable books in our collection isn't even seventy yet, while another book that was over 350 years old sold for a mere $200. Certainly, the older book was scarcer, but it was also basically a self help book, and as we all know, what's considered self help today is considered kind of silly ten years from now. This 350-year-old self help manual was worth $200 partly because it was an attractive volume and an old one, and partly because it was kind of silly times thirty-five, which makes it actually quite interesting from a sociological perspective, since there were sections on the identification of incarnate demons as well as sections on how to get a date.
***
Now, that's not an exhaustive guide to book value. There are, in fact, thousands of books on the values of books, and there are hundreds of serious experts, thousands of partial experts or experienced professionals, and thousands of crackpots, and not even the very best guides are totally authoritative all the time for every place in the world, since (for example) I can certainly find a discriminating collector in Iowa City who would love to have a signed copy of one of Paul Engle's scarcer books, but someone in Manchester or Glasgow might have to wait a bit to find someone who would appreciate the book. Those three points are, however, three easy ways to begin gauging which of two kinds your old book is: the kind worth money to somebody, or the kind worth the memories you attach to it. Both have value. If you're not sure which kind yours has, feel free to ask.*
Next week, I'll tell you about a different part of the book business, and one I like just as much as finding wonderful old books: finding wonderful young readers. There are an awful lot of grumpy people who keep telling me that kids these days just don't care about books, but I've got compelling evidence to the contrary. I'll also share a few tips on how to get kids interested in books - as usual, far from an exhaustive study, but hopefully useful information.
*Note: I don't appraise books. I buy books, and it wouldn't be ethical for me to make a purchase offer on a book I'd appraised. So I just answer book value questions for the genuinely curious when my schedule permits. If you would like to speak to a professional book appraiser, we can recommend the ones we trust.
As with any collector's item, an old book's monetary value is based on market demand, which is hard to gauge. Researching the prices for yourself on the internet can be tricky if you don't know the right places to look, because most websites with books for sale show what people are asking for a book. They don't tell you how often copies of those books sell at that price. If you learn where to look, you can get information, but then there's one more caveat that is also true for any collector's market: a dealer won't pay you the price at which the book will sell. It's not personal, and it's not a cheat. An expert needs to make a profit or change jobs. Basic economics.
So how do you know what you've got and what's a fair price? There's an incredible amount to know about this, but let me tell you three simple things you can check to get an idea of what you've got.
1. Condition. If you want to sell at a collector's item price, the book has to be in excellent condition. Not just good for its age - excellent. Part of what drives the price in collectors' markets is the fact that, after fifty or a hundred or two hundred years, most things get damaged, and collectors will pay money for the few left that aren't. If your book has any of the following defects, then it probably has no value at all:
- Mold
- Missing pages or parts of pages
- Library marks (there are exceptions to this in rare cases)
- Broken binding (unless the book is worth enough to repair, also a rare case)
Beyond that, a book dealer will check for writing on the pages, little yellow or brown spots called 'foxing,' stains on pages or cover, scuff marks or fraying on the cover, loose stitching in the binding, and other damage that will lower the book's value. Even just a little damage can slash the price heavily if the book is common or not particularly in demand. For example, in the 1800's a lot of writers wanted to write stories like Pride and Prejudice, and some of them just weren't very good. If you have a pretty old book, even one with gilt decorations on the cover and no writing inside, and the endpapers - the pages that attach to the insides of the front and back cover - are split down the middle with cloth showing through, and it's one of those just not very good not Pride and Prejudice novels, you have a pretty old book, not one worth money.
2. Production Quality. If you own an inexpensive book from before 1980, you've probably noticed that the pages have already started to turn yellow or even a little brown. This is called age-toning, and it's a sign that the publisher didn't use high quality paper, which means that the book wasn't made to last, which in turn probably means the book is either common or wasn't expected to become memorable. Cheap paper was also popular with pirate and reprint publishers. A very few pirated editions have some value, and even some of the books from reprint or other cheap publishers, but these are very uncommon, especially since cheap paper eventually makes a book useless as a book. After a hundred years, some cheap paper turns dark brown and brittle to the point that the text is unreadable and the pages actually break off.
Books that were made to last - books made with high-quality, low-acidity paper - are what the collectors want. If the pages of your books are still mostly white (and keeping them out of hot and wet areas is a good way to help them stay white), or better yet if they're still mostly white and have a sort of fabric-like texture to them, that's a sign of possible value. Not a promise of possible value, because since the invention of books, there have always been rich, crazy people who paid artists to make really beautiful, high quality copies of books that have no worth to anyone but the person who commissioned the book. But white paper in an old book means someone wanted the book to have value in the future, and clean white paper means someone who owned the book thought the book did have value and deserved care and preservation.
3. Age. It is true that very old books in very good condition made from very good materials tend to have some value. So how old is very old? Opinions vary based on demand. One person might be very excited to have a book that is one hundred years old, regardless of its content, and another person might specialize in collecting books from the late seventeenth century. Our general rule for 'very old' is about 150 years. If someone has kept a book well since around the time of the U. S. Civil War, it's probably a book worth keeping.
That said, not every old book is very valuable, and it's not true that the older the book gets, the more valuable it is. One of the most valuable books in our collection isn't even seventy yet, while another book that was over 350 years old sold for a mere $200. Certainly, the older book was scarcer, but it was also basically a self help book, and as we all know, what's considered self help today is considered kind of silly ten years from now. This 350-year-old self help manual was worth $200 partly because it was an attractive volume and an old one, and partly because it was kind of silly times thirty-five, which makes it actually quite interesting from a sociological perspective, since there were sections on the identification of incarnate demons as well as sections on how to get a date.
***
Now, that's not an exhaustive guide to book value. There are, in fact, thousands of books on the values of books, and there are hundreds of serious experts, thousands of partial experts or experienced professionals, and thousands of crackpots, and not even the very best guides are totally authoritative all the time for every place in the world, since (for example) I can certainly find a discriminating collector in Iowa City who would love to have a signed copy of one of Paul Engle's scarcer books, but someone in Manchester or Glasgow might have to wait a bit to find someone who would appreciate the book. Those three points are, however, three easy ways to begin gauging which of two kinds your old book is: the kind worth money to somebody, or the kind worth the memories you attach to it. Both have value. If you're not sure which kind yours has, feel free to ask.*
Next week, I'll tell you about a different part of the book business, and one I like just as much as finding wonderful old books: finding wonderful young readers. There are an awful lot of grumpy people who keep telling me that kids these days just don't care about books, but I've got compelling evidence to the contrary. I'll also share a few tips on how to get kids interested in books - as usual, far from an exhaustive study, but hopefully useful information.
*Note: I don't appraise books. I buy books, and it wouldn't be ethical for me to make a purchase offer on a book I'd appraised. So I just answer book value questions for the genuinely curious when my schedule permits. If you would like to speak to a professional book appraiser, we can recommend the ones we trust.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
This Just In
Here comes the Western Americana - from plains diaries to perspectives on Custer, the Underground Railroad to the Gold Rushes - leatherbound and paperback, scholarly and personal - and there will be at least six newly filled shelves by the time we're done.
Meanwhile, a few new titles in Wicca, Poetry, and Medieval studies to liven up the mix, not to mention a good half-shelf of recent books on the writing process.
Meanwhile, a few new titles in Wicca, Poetry, and Medieval studies to liven up the mix, not to mention a good half-shelf of recent books on the writing process.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Construction underway
You may notice a lot of bookcases moving around over the next couple of weeks. This is because we've integrated about 10,000 books from The Bookery but still have about 3,000 to go. If construction gets in your way, just ask us to move aside - we're happy to let you look while we work elsewhere.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
First Officer's Log - No 1
Greetings and welcome to the Haunted Bookshop of Iowa City's blog. I'm your secondary host, Ali Geraets; I'm around the shop five days a week, and Sundays I run the show. You'll almost always find me behind the counter going through stacks of assorted books and researching them for placement in the shop. I've worked here since June of 2009. The Bookshop has been a favorite haunt of mine for the past several years, even before I started working here, and despite the presence of several other used bookshops in Iowa City, I always found myself gravitating back here.
My experience in bookstores goes back to my childhood, when my parents took me to our neighborhood Waldenbooks every weekend. When I was 16, and old enough to have a job, I applied at that same bookstore, and thus began my adventures in book selling. All told, I worked for Waldenbooks / Borders for four and a half years, including three years while finishing college, and gained a great deal of experience in buying and selling books. Because my own personal interests were so broad, I knew a little bit about every section in that particular store, a good skill to have in any book selling environment.
I switched from working in the book store in early 2008 to working for a local Iowa City gift store which had been in business for over 20 years. While working for that store, I gained even more experience with buying and selling, and when that shop closed its doors in May of 2009, Nialle Sylvan, the owner of the Haunted Bookshop, bought a large amount of the toy inventory. She got me in the bargain as well.
Working for the Haunted Bookshop has given me lots of responsibilities. I run the shop on Sundays, and take care of processing incoming books from our most recent bookstore acquisition, the Bookery. I've gone through almost every single book in that collection, researching each book and determining its value and how we should process it. In doing so, I've become more acquainted with the internet selling process, and it's also my job to package books we sell on the internet every day. Because of all the books I process, I'm almost assured that I'll never see the same book twice. Book selling is not a boring business.
However, it's not all work. The shop has also allowed me to continue pursuing the book subjects I adore. Science fiction and fantasy, and mystery novels have always been favorite books, however I am also a rabid lover of non-fiction, and I'll devour just about any bit of history, sociology, religious study, psychology, science and current events as I can get my hands on. My current interests are World War I (since I don't know a whole lot about it) and contemporary political commentary from all angles.
In future posts, I'll try to keep you up to date on what's new at the shop, what sections we've worked on this past week and what you can look forward to in future months. As we switch into the Summer season, expect to see a lot of new things coming through the doors. If you read this and wonder about a certain section, leave a comment, and I'll let you know what you might like from that area. I'll also give a shout out to the authors whose work I admire, and what books I've been reading in the past week.
Until next week, fellow bibliophiles.
My experience in bookstores goes back to my childhood, when my parents took me to our neighborhood Waldenbooks every weekend. When I was 16, and old enough to have a job, I applied at that same bookstore, and thus began my adventures in book selling. All told, I worked for Waldenbooks / Borders for four and a half years, including three years while finishing college, and gained a great deal of experience in buying and selling books. Because my own personal interests were so broad, I knew a little bit about every section in that particular store, a good skill to have in any book selling environment.
I switched from working in the book store in early 2008 to working for a local Iowa City gift store which had been in business for over 20 years. While working for that store, I gained even more experience with buying and selling, and when that shop closed its doors in May of 2009, Nialle Sylvan, the owner of the Haunted Bookshop, bought a large amount of the toy inventory. She got me in the bargain as well.
Working for the Haunted Bookshop has given me lots of responsibilities. I run the shop on Sundays, and take care of processing incoming books from our most recent bookstore acquisition, the Bookery. I've gone through almost every single book in that collection, researching each book and determining its value and how we should process it. In doing so, I've become more acquainted with the internet selling process, and it's also my job to package books we sell on the internet every day. Because of all the books I process, I'm almost assured that I'll never see the same book twice. Book selling is not a boring business.
However, it's not all work. The shop has also allowed me to continue pursuing the book subjects I adore. Science fiction and fantasy, and mystery novels have always been favorite books, however I am also a rabid lover of non-fiction, and I'll devour just about any bit of history, sociology, religious study, psychology, science and current events as I can get my hands on. My current interests are World War I (since I don't know a whole lot about it) and contemporary political commentary from all angles.
In future posts, I'll try to keep you up to date on what's new at the shop, what sections we've worked on this past week and what you can look forward to in future months. As we switch into the Summer season, expect to see a lot of new things coming through the doors. If you read this and wonder about a certain section, leave a comment, and I'll let you know what you might like from that area. I'll also give a shout out to the authors whose work I admire, and what books I've been reading in the past week.
Until next week, fellow bibliophiles.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Ghostwriting - No. 1
Hello and welcome to the Haunted Bookshop Blog. I'm Nialle Sylvan, and I'll be one of your hosts here. I'll be posting a weekly entry on Thursdays about bookselling itself - from the unexpected aspects of the profession to the body of the printed book, from thoughts on genre and marketing to a little history of books and bookshops.
As the blog progresses, we'll have regular entries by the staff of the shop on topics of interest to each member, and we'll be requesting guest opinions on books and related topics. You may also notice entries including silly quotes and momentous occasions at the shop. Feel free to jump in with your own thoughts and anecdotes!
***
By way of a starting observation on the art and practice of bookselling, I'd like to solicit discussion on the topic of the general impression people have of the actual profession of bookselling. Over the years, I've encountered a lot of different points of view on who booksellers are and what we do. Some people seem to think we sit behind the counter and read all day, which is kind of the opposite of true. Other people imagine glamorous forays to antiquarian fairs, which I wish were true for us, but we aren't doing that kind of thing yet. Some ask us whether we know where the fiction section is, while others ask which authors we'd consider to be magical realists. So let me ask: When you imagine owning a bookshop - and don't tell me you never have, I won't believe you - what do you think it would be like? What is your ideal bookstore? What do you expect from your local bookstore?
I ask in part because one conversation that crops up from time to time, most recently last Tuesday, is the "I've thought about opening a bookshop" conversation. Not that any two of these conversations are very similar - in fact, the opposite is true - which tells you something about bookselling right away. Every independent bookseller has an independent vision. But if there's one line I keep delivering during these conversations, it's this: "It's not what you expect."
By that, I do not mean "don't expect to make money" - you shouldn't, but most people who have thought seriously about opening a bookshop know that - or "it's a lot of work," which it is, but again, seriously aspiring booksellers know that, too. I mean that the bookselling profession, in my experience and in the experiences of pretty much every other bookseller I've ever met, is in part a flight on the Seat of My Pants Airline with unscheduled stops in very unlikely places.
For example, I knew before I bought my shop that I'd have regulars, and, given the city in which I intended to purchase a bookshop, that some of them would be really interesting folks. I didn't expect that, for the first three years of my career, I'd get all my international news not from the papers or online services (which I didn't have time to read for quite a long time), but from a retired Croatian neurologist who read widely, had a curiously pragmatic feminist streak, and only bothered with sports news if it involved horses. Neither did I expect to get seriously sick of "Fur Elise," but that I maybe should have anticipated when the piano first arrived in the old front room of the store. Nobody could have predicted, least of all me, that I'd end up placing orders for rubber chickens via telephone while picking through boxes that contained both Gore Vidal and Alan Moore. And - here's my point - I'm not sure I would have understood, even had someone told me, that these things would come to be the reason that I opened the shop every morning, even more so than the books and the readers themselves.
There are booksellers who are most interested in the books, and booksellers who love the readers, and booksellers who make money (yes, really) and booksellers who mostly sit behind the counter and read (but they unfortunately tend to go out of business pretty quickly). I'm not not part of these groups, but I am definitely part of the Orders Rubber Chickens and Shakespeare Action Figures group, as well as part of the Loves Weird Discussions group, as opposed to the Shh, This Is A Bookstore group. Actually, any kind of diagram of the various and overlapping types of people who end up in this line of work would look like a bowl of four-dimensional Cheerios as seen through a kaleidoscope, so I don't know whether trying to set out groups is even meaningful. But when I envision the bookshop in which I want to work, it looks pretty much exactly like what is here: Our House Where People Talk and Find Books and Buy Some and Teach Us Things and Learn Others and Mostly Comprise Something Between a Literate Flash Mob and a Neighborhood.
I still have to clean the bathroom and wince at the sales totals and clean price sticker goop off of books and get the cat down before he knocks Bobble Head Shakespeare into the recycle bin, but it's incredibly worthwhile to be in this place, in this town, with these regulars, wondering what unexpected thing will happen next.
Does that sound anything like what you had in mind? Would you do it differently? What bookshops have you visited that did do it differently? Would you be a specialist - all film crit, all cookbooks, all mystery novels - or a generalist? Would you have sidelines? A piano? Couches? Readings? Would you stock from a distributor? From garage sales? Would you be for-profit or not? Those of you who have done or are doing bookselling, what makes your shop (open or private) different?
Next week I'm going to get into a little more detail, specifically, the mystique of old books and some tips on long-gone publishers I've learned to love - or to hate. But first, I'm looking forward to your thoughts on bookselling in general, and if there are particular topics that seem to be of general interest, we'll revisit them in later posts.
Thanks for joining us, and look for other columns and articles to begin in the next few weeks, as well as some fun retroactive entries, since I just found all the stuff we were going to use to make a scrapbook for the Haunted. Don't worry - I promise not to post anything that will embarrass anyone other than Logan, who is, like all cats, immune to indignity.
Warmest regards.
As the blog progresses, we'll have regular entries by the staff of the shop on topics of interest to each member, and we'll be requesting guest opinions on books and related topics. You may also notice entries including silly quotes and momentous occasions at the shop. Feel free to jump in with your own thoughts and anecdotes!
***
By way of a starting observation on the art and practice of bookselling, I'd like to solicit discussion on the topic of the general impression people have of the actual profession of bookselling. Over the years, I've encountered a lot of different points of view on who booksellers are and what we do. Some people seem to think we sit behind the counter and read all day, which is kind of the opposite of true. Other people imagine glamorous forays to antiquarian fairs, which I wish were true for us, but we aren't doing that kind of thing yet. Some ask us whether we know where the fiction section is, while others ask which authors we'd consider to be magical realists. So let me ask: When you imagine owning a bookshop - and don't tell me you never have, I won't believe you - what do you think it would be like? What is your ideal bookstore? What do you expect from your local bookstore?
I ask in part because one conversation that crops up from time to time, most recently last Tuesday, is the "I've thought about opening a bookshop" conversation. Not that any two of these conversations are very similar - in fact, the opposite is true - which tells you something about bookselling right away. Every independent bookseller has an independent vision. But if there's one line I keep delivering during these conversations, it's this: "It's not what you expect."
By that, I do not mean "don't expect to make money" - you shouldn't, but most people who have thought seriously about opening a bookshop know that - or "it's a lot of work," which it is, but again, seriously aspiring booksellers know that, too. I mean that the bookselling profession, in my experience and in the experiences of pretty much every other bookseller I've ever met, is in part a flight on the Seat of My Pants Airline with unscheduled stops in very unlikely places.
For example, I knew before I bought my shop that I'd have regulars, and, given the city in which I intended to purchase a bookshop, that some of them would be really interesting folks. I didn't expect that, for the first three years of my career, I'd get all my international news not from the papers or online services (which I didn't have time to read for quite a long time), but from a retired Croatian neurologist who read widely, had a curiously pragmatic feminist streak, and only bothered with sports news if it involved horses. Neither did I expect to get seriously sick of "Fur Elise," but that I maybe should have anticipated when the piano first arrived in the old front room of the store. Nobody could have predicted, least of all me, that I'd end up placing orders for rubber chickens via telephone while picking through boxes that contained both Gore Vidal and Alan Moore. And - here's my point - I'm not sure I would have understood, even had someone told me, that these things would come to be the reason that I opened the shop every morning, even more so than the books and the readers themselves.
There are booksellers who are most interested in the books, and booksellers who love the readers, and booksellers who make money (yes, really) and booksellers who mostly sit behind the counter and read (but they unfortunately tend to go out of business pretty quickly). I'm not not part of these groups, but I am definitely part of the Orders Rubber Chickens and Shakespeare Action Figures group, as well as part of the Loves Weird Discussions group, as opposed to the Shh, This Is A Bookstore group. Actually, any kind of diagram of the various and overlapping types of people who end up in this line of work would look like a bowl of four-dimensional Cheerios as seen through a kaleidoscope, so I don't know whether trying to set out groups is even meaningful. But when I envision the bookshop in which I want to work, it looks pretty much exactly like what is here: Our House Where People Talk and Find Books and Buy Some and Teach Us Things and Learn Others and Mostly Comprise Something Between a Literate Flash Mob and a Neighborhood.
I still have to clean the bathroom and wince at the sales totals and clean price sticker goop off of books and get the cat down before he knocks Bobble Head Shakespeare into the recycle bin, but it's incredibly worthwhile to be in this place, in this town, with these regulars, wondering what unexpected thing will happen next.
Does that sound anything like what you had in mind? Would you do it differently? What bookshops have you visited that did do it differently? Would you be a specialist - all film crit, all cookbooks, all mystery novels - or a generalist? Would you have sidelines? A piano? Couches? Readings? Would you stock from a distributor? From garage sales? Would you be for-profit or not? Those of you who have done or are doing bookselling, what makes your shop (open or private) different?
Next week I'm going to get into a little more detail, specifically, the mystique of old books and some tips on long-gone publishers I've learned to love - or to hate. But first, I'm looking forward to your thoughts on bookselling in general, and if there are particular topics that seem to be of general interest, we'll revisit them in later posts.
Thanks for joining us, and look for other columns and articles to begin in the next few weeks, as well as some fun retroactive entries, since I just found all the stuff we were going to use to make a scrapbook for the Haunted. Don't worry - I promise not to post anything that will embarrass anyone other than Logan, who is, like all cats, immune to indignity.
Warmest regards.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
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