A long time ago I met a venerable old collector at a bookfair. He had just put a book down and, unsure of the ettiquete, I made sure he didn’t want it before I picked it up.
The white illustration is printed on a separate piece of paper and then stuck onto the boards. All the rest is printed directly onto the boards.
Ha! Older and wiser now, I always adopt the correct proceedure which is to simply snatch it up the nanosecond it hits the table. If someone is looking at a book you want, feign complete indifference. Once, I engaged an enemy in conversation about how many books he had, and how there was no room in his house for any more, and that he never read any of them, until he unconsciously put down the book he was holding, which I desperately wanted to have. Anyway, I asked the old chap about the book and we fell to chatting and then he asked me what I collected.
For once I was at a loss for words. I’d only been into books for a year or so and I wanted to own everything I saw. I quite liked crime fiction but there was a lot of it about, far too much to collect it all. I quite liked natural history but this was even worse, there were entire fairs devoted to it and once again I didn’t really have a clue what I was doing. “Well – books” I said, rather unhelpfully.
This is just about nice enough, factoring in the content and inside condition which is perfect.
Years later when people asked I was able to make a proper, book collector’s response. I collected bibliomysteries, crime fiction books to do with the book world. I made quite a collection and then got about as far as I could go without robbing a bank or murdereing the old gits who had the last ones I needed and wouldn’t part with them. Also, I was getting a bit worked up about them and becoming rather obsessed. In fact I was turning into the sort of person who looks upon kind, wise and benign pensioners as old gits and dreams about killing them. So I knocked all that on the head, chucked away the wants list and started to collect – well, books.
I do have some criteria, of course. For a start they need to be in extremely nice condition. I don’t buy anything after 1980 or and I don’t buy rebound, recased or even repaired books. I try to avoid common books and I certainly don’t go anywhere near popular authors or ‘highspot’ books. For a long time now I’ve sought clean, tight, bright books on pretty much any subject. And sought isn’t the right word, or the right way to do it. I don’t seek out books or want certain books or carry around lists or badger dealers for books or trawl the net for books. Why bother? There are millions of lovely old books out there.I just walk into rooms full of them and see what there is to buy.
Look! This book has the word 'gay' in the title!
The book we met over was an old children’s book. He had a much nicer copy already and I couldn’t afford it. I don’t collect children’s books either, but it just so happens that I’ve bought a few this month so here they are.
The first one was given to Elsie Blan, of Croydon, in January 1902. Although published by The Religious Tract Society it is not in fact stuffed full of the god stuff and you should always look at RTS books carefully. The vast majority are perfectly normal takes on whatever the book happens to be about yet some dealers price them very low because they assume they are simply sermons or overtly religious. ‘The Child’s Companion’ was an annual. This is number 78. It’s interesting for the contents but the most remarkable thing about it is the condition. It’s a ‘time machine’ copy, fresh as the day it was made and I cannot resist books in truly fine condition.
The second one only made the cut because it was mispriced at £15 – way too low – and because the inside is in perfect working order, which is unusual for books like this. It’s a ‘moveable’, a pop up book from the mid 1930s, published by Strand who also issued the more common ‘Bookano’ titles and perfect copies of books like this are hard to find. The fragile tabs are often broken and the folding parts worn away; this one is still all intact.
As for the last one, well, the jokes just write themselves. It’s astonishing to think that any attempt to make this book now would land everyone involved in jail. I love it and it was a steal at a fiver, despite the nicks to the wrapper. A lot of dealers seriously underestimate the value of Blyton reprints. Blytonians are mad and will pay fortunes for firsts and that extends to early reprints of early titles like this one. Buy them on sight if they’re cheap.
There are no copies of the first two titles on the net at the moment. The Blyton title is here although a quick glance suggests there are no copies with wrappers.