NotJustAHatStand

This weekend Fiance and I are planning to sort out the flat once and for all. When we moved in we unpacked in a kind of haphazard, 'fling-that-in-there-for-now' kind of way, but we've never gotten around to sorting stuff out properly. ConsequentlyI feel that we've not properly settled, because our stuff is just kind of strewn about the place and nothing really has it's own place. But what's really bothering me is the state of my books (I know - I bet you weren't expecting that). Like everything else they just got turfed onto the nearest bookshelf in any old order, which is in direct contract to my previous, strict alphabetical-by-author-surname system. And don't even get me started on my Excel spreadsheet - I've not updated it since July so I have no idea what my current total is, or even which books I can score off my Amazon wishlist before Christmas. As a person who buys a book (or two, or five) every couple of weeks, this means my spreadsheet is now dramatically out of date. But these things are all easily rectified.

Our lack of adequate storage for said books is a bit more problematic.

We own 3 and a half bookshelves, which isn't nearly enough as they're all full to the gunnels, and I have to dedicate one shelf to my fancy books as I can't bear to squish them in with all the scraggy old paperbacks. But we don't have any more spare WALLS on which to place additional bookshelves, so there are always stacks of books lying around (there's currently a pile of em on my kitchen table, for instance). This doesn't bother me but Fiance grumbles about it on a regular basis - he keeps saying that we're going to end up surrounded by the things, sitting on them, sleeping on them, using them for pillows and plates, and for keeping us warm at night.

Fiance and I differ slightly in our approach to resolving this - his solution? Stop buying books. At least until I've read all the ones I own. Whenever he says this I proclaim loudly and dramatically that I simply cannot stop expanding my library as this would be like his stopping following football (at which point he casts his eyes heavenward). It is true that I haven't read all the books I own, but I see this as a good thing - I will never be bored or stuck for something to read, and neither will he (he loves reading too, although it may not sound like it). My solution to the book storage problem is to call in a professional.*

I think the only way we're going to be able to store all the books we currently own, AND have room for all the ones I plan on buying in the future, is to have someone come and build us one he-uge bookshelf, and give the Ikea ones the old heave-ho. This sounds like paradise to me, living in a house lined with books. Unfortunately Men With Hammers cost money, and at the moment we have other things to spend our hard-earned on so it will have to wait. But I refuse to curb my bookishness, especially when there are so many bargains around (just the other day I bought Moby Dick by Herman Melville and Amsterdam by Ian McEwan in the charity shop for £3).

Fiance will just have to make his peace with it.

*And not a mental health professional to address my addiction, despite Fiance's opinion on the matter.

Labels: Book collecting, Books, Fiance, reading

I have become worryingly obsessive about my book collection.

I love pottering around charity shops for cheap paperbacks that I'd have to pay £7-8 for in one of the big bookshops, and a second hand bookshop is my idea of heaven.* However my fascination with rare/antiquarian books has reached new heights in the last couple of months, and I'm beginning to worry that I'll end up living in a manky old bedsit with only my books for company, driven mad at the prospect of having to pick one to sell in order to make the rent.

It started with an Antiquarian Book Fair in the Assembly Rooms earlier this year. I found out about it by chance, and went along because I love anything to do with books - old or not. I had browsed on eBay for the odd title that I specifically wanted but hadn't really pursued it any further than that. So I wandered around amongst the bibliophiles for ages, enjoying being in the presence of like-minded individuals and ALL THOSE BOOKS, but at the same time a bit disappointed because I wasn't interested in the Regimental Orders of the 4th East Surrey Regiment or the Land and Labours of Belgium.**

I was about to leave when I stumbled across a first edition of The House At Pooh Corner for £90. As a Pooh-lover I nabbed it, feeling quite chuffed with my wee bargain. Then I saw a matching third edition of Winnie The Pooh, for £30. Of course, I couldn't buy one without having the other - they were a natural pair - so I decided to buy that as well. THEN I saw a 1966 edition of The Hobbit, with the original dust jacket, for £120. A quick, pleading, phonecall to Fiance later and I was trotting out of the place, clutching my treasures - the first pieces of my collection (one of which was to be Fiance's birthday present to me). I had a collection!

Since then I've bought a signed presentation copy of Vincent Starrett's 'Penny Wise Book Foolish' (a book about book collecting), a signed book of poetry by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow printed in 1889, a 1920's edition of Little Women with a beautiful Art Nouveau cover, and as of 6pm today, a 1931 edition of The Wind In The Willows, the first edition to be illustrated by E.H. Shepard (he of Winnie the Pooh fame). This last one was another fairly pricey one and Fiance was exasperated when I told him I'd bought it. He knew I had my eye on it, but I think he was hoping I'd restrain myself. Unfortunately for him, The Wind in the Willows is one of the books that mean a lot to me and I just had to have it. The worrying thing is that I didn't even really make a conscious decision to buy it, I just found myself clicking and typing and before I knew it I'd made a bid... I got it for the starting price of £125, but it's still a pretty expensive book to me.

Next time it might not be £125 I'm bidding though, it might be something more like this. I'll have to watch myself. Maybe I'll steer clear of eBay for a while.

*My favourite one is West Port Books at the top of Lady Lawson Street - it's full to the gunnels with thousands of pre-owned books of all description, all higgeldy-piggeldy and crammed in any old way. I could spend days in there.

**Is anyone?!?

Labels: Book collecting