Browsing the Bookshelves

I felt like an intrepid explorer. Usually quite content in our small and quiet corner of South East London, just a couple of weeks ago, the June London Book Fairs tempted me to scramble half way across London to Hammersmith for the ABA Antiquarian Book Fair. It's on days like these that I forget that I'm a bookseller by trade and fix my collector's hat snugly in place. With exhibitors, dealers in the finest books, drawn from all over the world, I knew I was in for a treat.  And with my flexible friend in hand and husband-cum-financial-controller left at home, I was planning to treat myself as well.

Jeremy Paxman, patron of the fair, begins his introductory remarks by stating that "if the book isn't dead, it is on a journey somewhere between the intensive care ward and the mortuary".  He cites in support of his premise the growth of alternative leisure activities, the decline of high street second hand bookshops and the penetration of the internet as an informational and research tool.  Almost as an aside, he dismisses the on line availability of second hand books as a "remarkably efficient way" to find a book "as long as you don't really care about the state of thing you're buying".  Of course, I think he is quite wrong, and his unnecessarily downbeat analysis of the second hand book trade, took the spring out of my step even before I reached Olympia.  I could write an essay on this topic - but I'll spare you for now.  Anyhow, II needn't have worried. Within moments of arriving, such thoughts were quickly dispelled by a dazzling array of some of the finest books in world.

I'm no longer surprised by the attitude of some eminent booksellers but I am still irritated by it. A number of the stands were uninviting and at times I felt that I had to push my way past an imperceptible barrier of superiority and intimidation just to look at the wares on offer. As a women in a traditionally male environment I've become used to being treated with diffidence and even at times overlooked but I really was quite taken aback to be twice asked, at different stands, if I was with or buying for my husband or my father.  

The majority of course were friendly, welcoming and helpful. Adrian Harrington's stand could be compared to a man with come-to-bed eyes. My eyes were drawn to their fine selection of modern firsts including Fleming, Douglas Adams, and Agatha Christie.  The centrepiece, to my mind, was a lovely UK 1st, 1st state copy of Heller's Catch 22 in its original jacket - a little foxed and on offer for £1650.

Heritage Books is always worth a visit, even if just to feast one's eyes on their beautifully presented fine books.  This time however my credit card took a hit for a large volume of Anglo-Saxon Poetry. More Fleming's on offer.  Jonker's Rare Books was a real treat too with a superbly displayed collection of Beatrix Potter on offer, including an original watercolour on cotton of Benjamin Bunny presented in a custom made inlay box together with a first edition Benjamin Bunny. I didn't dare ask the price. More Fleming's.

A lovely American first of Tolkien's The Hobbit stood out at Peter Stern's. The publisher's promotion banner, still in place, proclaimed "Its place is with Alice in Wonderland and Wind in the Willows… the Hobbit may well prove a classic".  More modern firsts at Nigel Williams, the most interesting being a lovely 1st of Elergy on Dead Fashion inscribed by Edith Sitwell to E M Forster (£475).  Bow Windows Bookshop had a wonderful copy of Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination illustrated by Arthur Rackham but in some ways more reminiscent of William Blake. Next to it was a superb copy of Quiller Couch's Sleeping Beauty illustrated by Edmund Dulac (30 coloured plates tipped in with captioned tissues, original gilt decorated pebbled cloth, slight rubbing to spine ends and corners - £350).  Even Stephen Foster, whose stand was by far the most welcoming of all, trumped this for Rackham fans at least, with a delightful original Rackham watercolour (which was reproduced as the frontispiece for Stephen James' Irish Fairy Tales).  I was sorely tempted by the most beautiful copy of Pride and Prejudice in a fine modern binding but contented myself by reserving a William Hazlitt.

A selection of the stunning work of the Chelsea Bindery was on show at Peter Harrington's. Their signed first of Harper Lee's To Kill a Mocking Bird, bound in full green morocco, would have graced by bookshelves were it not for the earlier purchases.

Footsore and weighed down by all that Anglo Saxon poetry, I regretted the absence of a  shuttle bus between the ABA fair that of the PBFA, this year being held at the Novotel a few minutes walk down the road. It wasn't until I was approaching the Novotel that I remembered I'd bought a travelcard that morning and could have just hopped on one of the buses going down Hammersmith Road.

I think the PBFA's move from the pleasant Commonwealth Institute to the Novotel is a mistake. The venue was cavernous and poorly lit with that sort of public-sector, hardwearing carpet that offers no comfort to those who mistakenly put on heeled rather than walking boots that morning.  Such conditions didn't show off the books, or the booksellers, at their best. Other than the occasional chat with friends and colleagues, there was little to make me pause as a toured the stalls.  Perhaps it was tiredness, or my still sore feet, or the temptation of an enticing wine bar at the end of road, but I left, uninspired and credit card balance in tact, barely an hour later.

A few days ago I posted a list of what we're currently reading. With the rains coming down in London at the end of week, the lure of the garden subsidied so more time for books! I finished Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven while waiting to have x-rays done in Lewisham Hospital.  The wonderful nurses and doctors their run such an efficient operation that I was in and out within 30 minutes. I have to confess to some disappointment: I was prepared to wait, equipped with a proof copy of Helen Dunmore's Ingo stuffed in my bag and I was hoping to be able to make a start but no sooner had I read the first sentence that I was called to have my mug shots!

I'm not questioning the benefits of greater efficiency in the NHS, but for the avid reader there is a downside. It's not often that one has the opportunity to read in the afternoon without feeling guilty about not doing something else.  Hospitals, doctor's and dentists surgeries, train stations and bus stops  can be golden opportunties to escape for a few minutes and indulge in you passion if you have to wait.  All this efficiency may mean one gets home earlier but it also means that the small lagoon of stillness that used to exist has disappeared.

I was struck by how few others in the waiting area were reading books. Several were reading but were content to flick through the aged and tatty magazines available or browse one of the leaflets on offer.   One lady was studying a bus timetable intently. Books, though, were apparently a rare thing.  Their was a young girl gobbling up Adele Park's latest offering with gusto and an older gentleman with a small volume which I couldn't identify. We three were the only readers in the room.  Most just sat, for the most part staring at their feet, perhaps lost in their own thoughts.