In another life books framed my days. I slept with them, dreamt about them, woke to their presence stacked by the bed and in various corners throughout the house, read them, handled them, discussed their merits with friends, co-workers, beer-drinking buddies, bartenders, customers, strangers, relatives, and even enemies. Traced my fingers slowly down their spines, identified some by odor alone, others by weight and feel. Bought, sold, cleaned, lent, skimmed, traded, gave, borrowed, collected, repaired, preserved, received. Traveled to acquire more, returned home to find still others languishing in never-opened, partially read or barely touched states. There were always too many. There were never enough.
The relationship began innocently. I’ve been an avid reader since the age of five, and over the years developed a knack for uncovering uncommon modern first editions. I’d walk into a thrift shop and spot a copy of William Kennedy’s first novel, The Ink Truck, snuggling up to Jane Fonda’s workout book, for a buck. Or at a small town antique store, something especially nice, perhaps a near-fine first edition of Cormac McCarthy’s Outer Dark, would leer at me from a dark shelf – $1.50. John Berryman’s Poems (New Directions, 1942) found me at a garage sale, for a quarter. Good Will yielded Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow. There were others, of course. Many others.
I partnered with a few like-minded friends and opened a store, and when that didn’t work out, started my own home-based book business, which eventually expanded into a small brick-and-mortar shop, a true labor of love. And I mean labor. The forlorn space we rented was cheap and had housed for years a low-end, illicit massage parlor. Cleaning it out was, oh, shall we say interesting? I’ll never forget the furry massage table, the naked lady lamp or the various implements left behind after the joint was finally forced to close. But we hauled out the filthy carpeting, stripped and refinished the hardwood floors, fixed, painted and patched what we could, and hid what we couldn’t. It was exhausting, but well worth the toil.
My work schedule ran from Monday through Sunday, a minimum of eighty hours a week – in a seven-year period, I took off only two long weekends. It consumed me, but in the end I emerged mostly intact, a little more aware of my proclivities, of an unhealthy tendency to immerse myself wholly into an enthusiasm, to the detriment of family and friends. When we sold our store’s wares, I embraced the change; some dreams simply deplete you. But the itch remained.
Just a few weeks ago I found myself perusing an accumulation of books in a storage facility across the street from a junk shop in Llano, Texas, a small county seat an hour’s drive west of my home on the outskirts of Austin. The shop’s owner had purchased an English professor’s estate, and judging by the collection, the professor had specialized in poetry. My first thought was “I want it all,” but reason set in (I could very well imagine my wife’s reaction were I to arrive home with a trailerful of books) so I glanced over the criticism, fiction, drama, essays and biographies, and concentrated on the poetry. In the end I walked away with thirty-one books, including H.D.’s Red Roses for Bronze (Chatto & Windus, 1931), Randall Jarrell’s Little Friend, Little Friend, Elizabeth Bishop’s Collected Poems and Questions of Travel, a brace of Berrymans – His Toy, His Dream, His Rest and Homage to Mistress Bradstreet – both the U.S. and U.K. first editions, which differ – and Love & Fame. A good haul, to say the least, but one that left me only partially satisfied and contemplating a return. But I remain resolute. So far.
As I said, the itch remains…
This first appeared in April 2015.
Love this. Feels familiar.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It is a common malady.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love love love
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Susan. I’ll never fully recover from this addiction, but I mostly have it under control.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Can imagine!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very familiar. Bet theirs loads of us.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We are everywhere!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Enjoyed this prose outing, Bob. Especially this observation: some dreams simply deplete you. The older I get, the more I understand the shadow side of attachment, linger though it will. It is difficult to safely corral such animals; kudos to you for doing so.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve come to recognize my obsessive nature, and try to harness and point it towards more productive activities. With mixed results, I must admit. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dejá vu? 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yep. “We have all been here before…” First posted in April 2015.
LikeLike
I actually remember it because it’s the type of post that allowed me to think of you as more than O at the Edges and your Avatar.
Still think of you as a bibliophile and Texan like myself. 👍
LikeLiked by 1 person
One of these days I’ll get to your neck of the woods and we’ll discuss books and things in person!
LikeLike
Absolutely, or vice versa, U haven’t visited Austin in years. Need to come see the bats, lakes, and do some spelunking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know the feeling!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s not necessarily a bad one. 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
It’s an addiction one really doesn’t want to be cured of.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It is difficult to overcome.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank goodness.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I believe I know the feeling. If your travels ever take you to New York City, go to the Strand Bookstore on 13th Street and Broadway. You’ll find the largest selection of used and remaindered books anywhere in Manhattan (except the Library).
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh, I know the Strand!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bookaholics unite! 😀
LikeLiked by 2 people
I say I have this under control, but on Monday I purchased two books at a walk-in shop, and yesterday ordered two online. Oh, well.
LikeLiked by 4 people
I would love to see more of these personal essays. They are as interesting as your poems.
Cho-omoroi desu yo!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Prose is difficult for me. My brain is much better suited for “poetic leaps” than clarity of intent. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I don’t know why you would think prose is hard for you, since yours is sincere and openly admits to any/all uncertainties when they arise. That is what REAL prose or poetry is.
But then again…I would rather leave you believing you are prosaic i.e. hope you never discover the true and beautiful depth of your prose talent and become a braggart about it! 🙂
I give your prose 644 stars out of 5, subtracting one star for a lack of reference to Star Wars bounty hunter Dengar and his ship “The Punishing One”! LOL…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dengar, Dengar, Dengar. I keep forgetting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And don’t forget that he was actually present on Nal Hutta when Darth Maul came to ally himself with the Hutts…
Now that is a subject for prose-poetry!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. I am a bibliophile as well. When I purchased a book from an old book shop or flea market, and especially a yard sale… I got a feeling that must be shared by people that rescue animals and bring them home. lol. I don’t have near the load of books I used to… practicality won over… but I have some catches I will never let go of… thanks for sharing this wonderful point-of-view. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
We have fewer books these days – hundreds, but hey, that’s a step in the right direction.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I, too, love me some books. I tried a kindle and a nook, but it just never took. I need to feel the paper, fold back the cover until it’s almost just one side of the page, dog ear where I left, and smell the ink. Finding the used makes it even more special of who else held those pages and read those words.
LikeLiked by 3 people
I have a Kindle, which I use for “disposable” reading, but I’m much happier with the smell and feel of paper.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It is the atmosphere – those quiet dingy little shops on side streets, with that old book smell….
LikeLiked by 1 person
There’s nothing quite like it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: #MambaMentality #PARTYHARD #DENvsSD #NLDS #Worlds #PlanetEarth2 #Nicole #hurricane #inspiration #LSSC #WeWillRise #DoYourJob #StarWarsShow | Highwaypay
deja vu. i was recently enough reading Larry McMurtry’s “roads” and noticing he went after his own shop with a story so very similar to this. – I can’t say it enchanted me as much as John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charlie, but I take what moments i need and cherish them even if i’m literally and literarially a dial turner of a reader versus that annoying person switching station on the radio looking for just the ONE right song.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Larry is a legendary bookman – he came into my shop only once, but what a day that was!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Enjoyed every word of this!
Timely for me too because I am carting off another box of books that need to be released and treasured by someone else.
And thinking of you selecting the gems from the former professor’s estate made me smile!
I am sure that person would be smiling to see that someone valued them.
And your book store experience was interesting to read about.
This was my favorite line:
“embraced the change; some dreams simply deplete you”
Oh and one last tidbit –
Jane Fonda?
Ha!
Was just remembering my first at home workout cassette in 1987 – it was Jane Fonda and it was good! Don’t recall the book though –
Anyhow – good day O
LikeLiked by 1 person
My wife and I maintain a stack of books to donate. When it becomes precarious, we haul them off to the local thrift shop. That Jane Fonda book was everywhere!
LikeLiked by 1 person
We’ll not sure how I missed the Fonda book – but maybe I have seen it… probably.
I used to like this one by Callan Pinckney and she really inspired me to see that working out had options.
anyhow, hope you don’t mind, but I had to connect this post in my book post today – this was inspiring to me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I don’t mind at all – thanks very much for linking!
LikeLiked by 1 person
great – and hope you have a nice weekend
LikeLiked by 1 person
You too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully described memory. Like a poem. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So did you go back and get more? Now I’m off to try to shake off the image of a furry massage table eeewwww…
LikeLiked by 1 person
No, I managed to control myself, and haven’t been back to Llano since then. Made doubly hard by the fact that one of the best known barbecue joints is located there… Ah, brisket and books!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brisket and books has a nice ring to it…maybe the theme/name of your next venture? 😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’d probably get confused – smoke the books and shelve the brisket.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mmmmm tasty first editions…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’d love to see a pic of that bookstore you owned…fingers crossed you’ll feature it in a post…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I may have to dig them out. Pre-digital days.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, please do!
LikeLiked by 1 person
And yes, eeewwww to the furry massage table. It must have been a horrible place to work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Only other thing that could be worse is velvet. I don’t know why but velvet gives me the creeps.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’d prefer velvet to the furry (ugh) massage table. Believe me. It still bothers me, but at least I had the pleasure of dismantling it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ok. We have to stop this conversation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Three Books from September – priorhouse blog
Very nice. As long as the wife wasn’t unhappy!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I could never have a book shop – I would never want to sell anything 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
A dilemma!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahh brilliant! Can relate to this…. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
We are everywhere!
LikeLike
Thanks for sharing – and the insights into who you are. Beautiful, evocative writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I would not have missed those years for anything! And thank you for your kind words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My relationship with book ownership is similar. I’ve got twenty or thirty books waiting to be read, gathering dust on my shelves. I swear that I won’t go to the library or buy another book until I’ve run the gamut, but end up getting seduced into buying more. A friend talks about a new author, and I’m off on a prolonged tangent. My children will have to deal with my collection eventually, but my daughter is an English Lit. major. She’ll be happy to go rummaging through my piles of books to find treasures. That’s what I tell myself when I pass by a used book store and see shelves of books out on the sidewalk calling to me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I no longer actively “hunt” books like I used to, but it’s still difficult to pass up a shelf or pile of them. At the very least, I have to look!
LikeLike
Pingback: A+ Book Review: A Selection of Non-Fiction Top-Selling Bargain Books – Just Write
Pingback: A Selection of Non-Fiction Top-Selling Bargain Books – ALWAYS WRITE
Pingback: A Selection of Non-Fiction Top-Selling Bargain Books – Marsha Ingrao – Always Write