1. Calm down.
2. Ascertain simple facts, like dates, about the author and the title. (One thing Wikipedia is good for.) For instance, before saying your 1912 Christmas Carol is signed by Charles Dickens, find out that he died in 1870.
3. For a reality check, look at the lowest prices, not the highest prices, on the internet, and check “completed listings” on Ebay.
4. Try to sell yours on Ebay. If you can get half or more of “retail,” congratulations. If not, you’ll understand better why a dealer can offer you less than you might expect.
5. Realize that the importance of an experienced bookseller’s opinion of the book’s condition can not be overstated. If the book is valuable, every detail matters, including especially dust jackets.
1. Calm down.
Thanks to CCM electronic media student Zach Gerberick for his thoughtful interview questions. (You can see the 5 minute video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyPcUXNcI10&feature=youtu.be.) The short answer to many questions I get is: it’s all about the books. What gives a used bookstore its unique ambience? The astonishing diversity of books that come from many different times and places. In addition to the variety of bindings and covers, not to mention the textual contents, each book also carries traces of its history with different owners. Sometimes there are intriguing or touching inscriptions. Sometimes a photo or ticket left between the pages. There’s always a bit of mystery. Recently I opened a 1924 calculus book and found a boy’s name and address penciled in the front– and it was the house my grandparents had owned for fifty years, about 1950-2000. He must have lived there before them. This week, inside a 1903 book on the art of the Italian Renaissance, a prior owner had written in attractive fountain pen handwriting a quotation I was unfamliar with, but it was so apropos that I looked it up to find out it was by John Ruskin: “No book is worth anything which is not worth much; nor is it serviceable until it has been read and re-read, and loved and loved again.”
I’ve bought enough old books online at this point to understand the process from both buyer’s and seller’s perspective. (That’s in addition to having sold several tens of thousands online over the past decade, to customers all over the world.) The chaotic variety of search results you get, including nutty high and low prices, are thanks to the amateurs & automators who flood the market. Many of these listings are automated by the use of upc scanners. When you see phrases like “may have markings,” it’s because no one examined and described that book for you. It might be a library discard; it might have a broken binding or lots of highlighting; it might be mailed to you in a thin envelope with no padding or protection. Some of these sellers purport to be non-profit. Unfortunately, they have not made the book world better.
If you’re buying a collectible, an expensive book, or a gift, or if you’re just picky, you should expect the seller to provide photos and answer any questions you have. I’ve found, and I’ve heard the same from other dealers, that the majority of online sellers do not answer inquiries. It’s hard to take seriously a seller who has priced a book at $100 but doesn’t provide a photo. If you would like to support bookstores like Duttenhofer’s (a vanishing species), take a moment to Google the seller you are considering. Bookstores like ours depend on online sales to connect books with buyers.
Last week, I purchased a book which turned out to be a book club edition with a broken hinge and no dust jacket– all contrary to the description that had been provided. The refund for the return was prompt and apologetic. The amateur seller really didn’t understand the terms she was using. Some say this sort of thing is a deliberate gamble that the buyer won’t bother with a return. Today, I received a book that was badly broken, sent in a paper envelope.
I’m a customer, too, and I understand the appeal of a large searchable marketplace from which you can buy with one click. Not to name names, but the A-word, with the happy arrow on the box….. Its vast customer base makes it a necessary evil for real booksellers trying to survive. It operates without professional standards of bookselling, treating books like any other object with a upc code. Unlike other major old-book selling sites (Abebooks etc), it re-states and misrepresents professional bibliographic specifics real booksellers use in their databases. (“Acceptable” condition? Acceptable to whom?)
The internet helps make all the books out there into one vast treasure trove for bibliophiles. That’s a great good thing, on the whole, especially if we use it thoughtfully.
So very rarely does it happen that someone thinks they have an exceptionally valuable book and it turns out to be true. A gentleman called about a book signed by Matisse. When he brought it in, I discovered he hadn’t mentioned it was also signed by James Joyce. It was a beautiful 1935 folio-sized edition of Ulysses with illustrations by Henri Matisse, the crown jewel of the Limited Editions Club catalogue. They printed many other nice books signed by their illustrators, but none with quite this much cachet. The man who had it was settling an estate, and inclined to accept a NY dealer’s offer of $10k. That dealer probably has a buyer willing to pay $15k or more. The only thing as rare as books that valuable are buyers for them. Well, it was fun to see, anyway.
An interesting contrast passed through our store the following week. It was an elephant folio, supersized 1975 Moby Dick illustrated and signed by Leroy Neiman, with a preface signed by Jacques Cousteau…which, for me, was all too much of not quite good enough things. It takes a lot to live up to Melville. And, with all due respect, the Cousteau signature was just a bit silly perhaps. It was a book that could be said to be worth a few hundred dollars, but I’d rather not be the one saying it.
Today I saw a book which is haunting and perplexing me. An older lady, a longtime collector, brought in an 1850 edition of Jane Eyre. Its original brown cloth embossed covers were faded, worn, and detached, held on by transparent tape; the spine was illegible; the endpapers, a cheap, waxy yellow paper, were blackened; the pages were foxed and wavy; the text block was warped; a 1928 owner inscription in India ink (“this book belonged to my aunt and I inherited it”) had bled through to the subsequent page. The title page read: Jane Eyre/ an autobiography/ edited by/ Currer Bell.
Of all these particulars, the most wonderful is that title page– there is Charlotte Bronte before we knew her name, in the wake of the first and greatest Bronte novel’s sensational popularity after its 1847 British publication and 1848 American first edition. The poor condition of the copy I saw was because it was a hasty, cheap trade publication (or pirate) with inferior paper and barely adequate cloth; and it was probably read many times. This could be rebound, but having that done properly would be fabulously expensive, and would entail painstaking disassembly and reassembly that the mediocre paper would not withstand without, at best, becoming harder to open and difficult to read, while losing the authenticity of its original covers. So would that be a further insult, or a necesssay evil? The book is at risk of being thrown away because at a glance it looks like junk. These very early editions are so uncommon because most of them did get used up and thrown away.
The owner’s speculation about its dollar value and mine varied so greatly that I didn’t make an offer for it, and advised her to keep it. It’s the worst part of my job, those mercurial dollar values. That title page– bliss. How much that’s worth and how much it costs, I don’t even enjoy putting in the same sentence.
Visit, if you can, the enchanting exhibit at the DAAP gallery (’til Feb. 16) of the work of Cincinnati artist Charley Harper (1922-2007). It introduced me to the little “Ford Times” magazine I’d somehow never seen before. Harper’s charming illustrations were in many issues in the 1950s. One of our favorite customers brought us a couple of copies.
Maybe one day the January 1951 Look magazine with his weather map will turn up. The serendipities in my work are a neverending delight. Books and pictures are more important to me than the dollars they’re “worth.” I wouldn’t be in this business otherwise. Dollars are the dullest part of value. I hope that isn’t the epitaph of the used book trade!
Chromolithography was state of the art color printing in the late 1800s. It made fine art prints available to the middle class. The inks are still rich and bright a hundred years later.
These unexpectedly vivid illustrations show up in otherwise unremarkable children’s books. They are a delightful surprise inside dingy covers, the color pictures on better paper interleaved with acid-tanned text pages.