When I moved last March, I brought my kiddie bookshelves with me. The only size I have space for in my room. They were half empty, then, because I moved some of my books back into my old room at my mom's place. The shelves are full again.
I try to be discriminate when I shop for books, but get carried away by smells, long forgotten childrens' classics, favorites I take out from the library often.
I like books that smell old, like stale cigars. I like yellowed pages. I don't mind water crinkled books. Personal notes in the flyleaf; scrawling, illegible script. I love the lived in looks these books acquire, a silent history evident in their imperfections.
These are where I get my books:
I am an unrepentant bibliophile--from reading, to the style and texture of a certain edition, to the illustrations, to the sheer strangeness of a certain title, my room is crammed full of books, and it's gotten to the point that I've started taking over my parent's basement.
stand/alone/bitch's node is great for New York; so I'm going to do the same for Philadelphia, as that's where I'm from.
This is just a small sampling I will add to at a later date. See? You needen't go to Buns&Nubile or Hoarders.
Sometimes, looking at the many books I have at home, I feel I shall die before I come to the end of them, yet I cannot resist the temptation of buying new books. Whenever I walk into a bookstore and find a book on one of my hobbies---for example, Old English or Old Norse poetry---I say to myself, ``What a pity I can't buy that book, for I already have a copy at home.'' --Jorge Luis Borges, ``The Riddle of Poetry''
--Jorge Luis Borges, ``The Riddle of Poetry''
My taste in books is somewhat odd. As far as fiction goes, I am most interested in what elitists would term ``literature'', especially that of the twentieth century. This is all well and good: Kafka, Proust, Nabokov, and the like grace the shelves of any respectable bookstore.
Then I get to my other interests: literary criticism and philosophy. I go to Barnes and Noble, I go to the big local bookstores, and what do I find? The philosophy shelves, which are by the way usually located right next to the books on getting in touch with the cosmos through the channelling powers of crystals, hold mainly books by the likes of Nietzsche, Sartre, Hofstadter, and Martin Gardner. It seems that, if it's not either trivial fluff (yes, I'm calling Hofstadter fluff) or existentialism, it's not worth having. Try finding the Phenomenology of Spirit; something by Wittgenstein other than the Tractatus; or anything non-introductory by Kant: you won't have much luck.
Literary criticism is worse. If there's even a separate section on it, which isn't all that likely, it will generally take up a few shelves: not a few bookcases, but a few shelves. What will you find in that oh-so-frugal collection? Cambridge companions to T.S. Eliot and Milton. A few guides to Ulysses. A book or two on why you should be literate. Oh, and there's The salon.com Reader's Guide to Contemporary Authors, which has an entry on J.R.R. Tolkein, but not one on William S. Burroughs (not to mention the fact that it omits anyone who doesn't write in English). Occasionally, I've even seen Cliffs Notes there. Where's Eliot's Selected Prose? Where's Walter Benjamin? Where, for that matter, are Michel Foucault, Julia Kristeva, Louis Althusser, Jacques Derrida, M.M. Bakhtin? It pisses me off.
So I go to the local university bookstore. In addition to textbooks, the have fairly large sections on philosophy and literary criticism. They have political science that goes beyond mere history or Bill O'Reilly. They have huge, salivation-inducing law sections. They are bookstores for people who want to get something out of their books. I walk in with $300, and walk out with an armful of books like Sein und Zeit, essays on Borges, Kant's three critiques, and a bilingual edition of Les Fleurs du Mal. A month later, repeat. I have found bliss: it is a University bookstore and a credit card.
As the owner of a second-hand bookstore/book exchange, I can only recommend (nay beg) that you patronise these worthy establishments.
Why pay the extra money over and above goodwill? Well, firstly, any owner worth his or her salt will have the store set out in a way that you can find things easily.
Secondly, I can assure you that apart from antiquarians, few second-hand booksellers make much money - they do what they do for the pure joy of being surrounded by books. This means they'll generally know what they've got, and where it is, so you don't have to spend hours failing to find what you're looking for.
Thirdly, if they haven't got what you want, right now, they'll move heaven and earth to find it. These people haunt auctions and garage sales, publishers remaindered book skips, church, school and Red Cross fairs. They network, and can call on widely spread resources. They will buy a large lot, for a single book that they know a customer wants, because they can probably sell the rest.
Fourthly, because they are independent, you are likely to be dealing with someone who knows and loves books, not a mass-market shop assistant. If you like a particular author or genre, they should be able to recommend something else that will please you, and help you discover new treasure. If you've got time to spare, you can probably have a long, stimulating and fruitful conversation (and very likely a free coffee, and a chair out of the rain).
Finally, they'll often buy or trade in as well as selling - so you can still get new things to read, even when you don't have any real cash.
Support your local second-hand bookstore - or if it doesn't provide the things above, find one on the 'net that does -- I know a really good one *grin*.
printable version chaos