The Gift of Rare Books

I started writing this post months ago. It pertains to something that happened on my birthday, back in November 2013. So, you know, take that into account. I decided to publish this rather than scrap it because what I am really saying is this: I have become the kind of book-loving nerd who attends antiquarian book fairs and collects signed first editions. There is a passage in The Storied Life of A. J. Ficry where A.J. says that in the end, acquisitions don't matter - even the first edition E. A. Poe manuscript he treasured didn't matter. Only the people you love matter. And I really do agree with this. But I also believe that there is some joy to be derived, during life, from collecting things that give you pleasure.

So, for my birthday, months ago now, Bibliohubby went to significant trouble to track down bookstores in Toronto that carry rare books. He did the initial research without telling me, and then stumbled across an event that was happening on my birthday weekend, which he knew I would enjoy. And so it was that the four of us set out one Saturday in November to attend the Toronto International Antiquarian Book Fair at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Bibliohubby took Iggy downstairs to the learning centre whilst Lulu and I browsed (with Lulu on my chest in the Babybjorn, that most wonderful of inventions, leaving my hands free).

I have never before been to such an event but after this experience, I know I will be going again. Bookstores from all over the world were represented by small stalls, in which the rarest of books were displayed. Books from Hemingway's private library, inscribed to other writers. Original illustrations by E. H. Shepard from Winnie-the-Pooh books. First editions of classic novels. All manner of precious manuscripts. Textual history writ large. Amongst the stalls I honed in on two in particular, which held books by some of my favourite writers. That day we purchased a signed first edition of Alice Munro's Still Life and another signed first edition by Paul Auster - Yippee! I went home and placed the books carefully upon my new bookshelves.

A few weeks later, Bibliohubby arranged another surprise, taking me to one of the bookshops I had been introduced to at the fair. When we walked through the door, this is what we saw hung upon the wall in the vestibule:

 

"To care about words, to have a stake in what's written, to believe in the power of books, this overwhelms the rest and beside it, one's life becomes very small."

- Paul Auster

 

Those of you who know me well will know that Auster is my favourite writer. One of the quality assessment tests I give to new bookstores is whether they stock Auster's books and, if so, how many. To walk into this particular shop and find his words on the wall made it clear immediately that it was a place I would love.

Contact Editions is one of those bookstores you might want to live in. It is cosy and eclectic, hung with literary posters and prints and decorated with all manner of interesting bits and bobs, with a Chesterfield to sit and read in, green banker's lamps and, of course, walls lined with books. It is run by the most delightful couple, with the poetic names of Wesley and Lucia. I feel like a cat should live in the store too, a fat orange cat curled up on the sofa, with a bushy tail that slowly wags its disapproval when the door is left open to drafts.

Again we walked out with books, a signed Salman Rushdie, another signed Auster and Wesley threw in an additional first edition Auster at no extra cost.

I know that acquisitions are not what makes the world turn. I know that the words within a book are what matter, rather than the frame that holds those words and ideas. But the lovely books we bought in November adorn my shelves now, and I can't help it - they make me happy.

I am a book nerd, yes I am, and I make no apology for it.