Fireside Chats With a Bookseller: I

antique_books

“Why is it so expensive?”

It is that expensive because that is how much it costs.

That’s the short answer. The long answer is that things cost as much as people are willing to pay for them; that rarity and relative condition are important (and “relative” is often the key word); and that, yes, we are asking you to trust us.

I get asked this question much more frequently about our old and rare stock than about our new stock, and it’s a question I find hard to answer because I am not a trained antiquarian bookseller. I’m a new bookseller, with all of the reading and information bias that suggests. We are about to lose our antiquarian guy, and no one currently at the shop is really equipped to take his place. The amount of stuff it is possible to know about old books is almost endless: provenance, bindings, endpapers, condition, foxing, spines. I have considered getting a Masters degree in or around the subject, but there are people with lifetimes’ more experience than a year-long course will get you, and again: I’m a new bookseller. Old books are objects of intellectual interest to me, not of passion.

The one thing I do know, the one thing that our guy has impressed upon me, is the significance of trust in the old and rare books trade. Plenty of dealers are untrustworthy, in that they will take you for far more than something is really worth, just because it’s old and you look gullible enough to think that matters; or they will misdescribe something in a catalogue, in a way qualitative enough that you can’t really call them on it. In that sense, I suppose, it’s like any other business. So scoping out the place, and the people you’ll be dealing with, before you go in is smart.

But that’s not what this question is; this question never comes from someone who has done their research. This question comes from casual buyers, very rarely account-holders, and it’s designed to make us doubt ourselves. It’s a cheap trick used by cheap people, and like most cheap tricks, it only works on people who don’t really know what they’re doing.

We do. We do know what we’re doing. I did, just above, admit to not being an antiquarian bookseller, but that doesn’t make me an idiot; it means that my response to that question is going to be “The price is as marked”, until my colleague informs me otherwise. Because he’s my colleague and I trust his judgment. As, if you’re going to do business with us, should you.

Bookish and Not-So-Bookish Thoughts

Run by Christine at Bookishly Boisterous, to whom I often forget to give credit, which is bad.

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  1. I have a MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT, and it is this: I am now officially a bookseller again! I’m starting at Heywood Hill (a small but perfectly formed shop in Mayfair; you may have seen it in Vanity Fair or profiled recently in the Times) on Monday. I could not possibly be more excited. The shop runs Year in Books subscriptions (twelve or six months, depending on your preferences and budget, with a new hardback book, hand-picked by us booksellers and tailored to your personal literary tastes, delivered to you each month) and helps to build private libraries as well as just, you know, selling books. I am overwhelmed with delight at the idea of actually being paid to do this. Please, if you are in or near London, come and visit me!
  2. Over the weekend, I was singing at a gig in the church of St Mary-le-Bow (late C19 French choral music, if you’re interested), and had to run out during a rehearsal break to buy a black folder from a nearby Rymans. I also picked up a four-pack of black fine-point Uniball pens, because they’re the best pens of all time, and handwriting the novel has suddenly become extra enjoyable. Seriously, writing with these things is a sheer delight: a perfect, smooth line, a balanced weight in the hand… I love them.
  3. All of my makeup is running out. I’ve been reduced to smearing my ever-flatter lipstick stub onto my mouth every other day, instead of daily, and I’ve been hacking my mascara as a crude eyeliner for months now. (This is so embarrassing and I wish it weren’t true, but if you’re ever in an emergency, trust: you can use mascara as eyeliner. Just wibble the wand around the inside top edge of the tube, so it gets nice and thick, then make sure you hold your eyelid down hard while you poke at it. It’s not elegant but it gets the job done.) Anyway, I need some more cosmetics and that right speedily. My eyeliner is non-negotiable (L’Oreal 24 Hour Gel), but on the lipstick front, I’m thinking Burt’s Bees—moisturiser AND deep colour!—and maybe an Avon gloss stick. Any other recs? (Nb: my top limit for lipstick price is twenty quid. I absolutely refuse to pay more than that for what is basically face crayon.)
  4. Winter is always a difficult time for me to eat sensibly (“Why can’t we just order pizza like normals?” I shouted at the Chaos, as he cruelly forced me to stirfry some broccoli and mushrooms in soy sauce, in the name of getting some vitamins, this afternoon.) Anxiety this year has made it all the harder. I have a curious feeling that the new job is going to make a huge dent in the anxiety problem—I keep getting little bubbles of joy just thinking about it, which has to be a good sign—so I’m keeping an eye out for things I’d like to cook and eat soon. Spaghetti with lemon and olive oil is near the top of the list, followed by apple and honey cake from my Riverford cookbook.