Fat stamps

On the 22nd I gave some space to the noble sport of stamp collecting. Today I give some space to that of collecting old books, to wit a visit to the antiquarian book fair held last week at Olympia. Not something I have been to before, finding enough to do in the second hand book fairs which are a bit more in my league, with books which I can sometimes afford and which I might actually read.

First step, print off my free tickets off the internet.

Second step, pull a Bullingdon at Grant Road East and pedal off to Olympia. Pleasant enough ride, which took me a little longer than I expected, not looking far at all on the map. Thought I was doing well enough but I got a bit confused crossing the A4, aka the Cromwell Road, a big and busy enough road to be a little intimidating on a bicycle and where I kept station with an army lorry for a while. Eventually arrive at my destination, Kensington Olympia Station, to find that I can't dock the Bullingdon at the stand there. So next stop Russell Gardens, just up the road, where the same thing happens, but luckily someone else parks and pushes off while I am fiddling about, thus demonstrating that there was nothing wrong with the stand. After a closer inspection, I try lift and push rather than just push and the Bullingdon is docked: the bike and the stand must have been slightly out of vertical alignment, and given that it had happened on more than one stand, it must have been the bike. Not something that had happened before. Furthermore, the whole business took well over the half hour allowed for free, so my credit card had to stump up a supplementary pound. All most annoying.

But there was a little parade of shops, including one fancy restaurant which I took to be Lebanese and one café run by a chap whom I took to be Lebanese. I go for the café and opt for tea and bacon sandwich, rather than some of the more ethnic offerings, which while interesting were, I thought, a bit too substantial for my purpose. Entirely satisfactory bacon sandwich served by the Chinese cook, an older gentleman, sufficiently satisfactory that I order another, despite my previous remark about substantial. All the while entertained by the supposed Lebanese gent. organising the outdoor smoking den for a couple of chaps who wanted to hookah. Organising the little hot coals which sat on top of the hookah resulted in a rather unpleasant burning oil smell. Playing with the little hot coals with a pair of what might otherwise have been sugar tongs was clearly all part of the hookah thing. I missed the Georgian Embassy which turns out to be opposite.

And so onto to the fair, managing to get there without the rain coming on which was good as I had elected, despite the rather dodgy looking weather, not to take the umby on this occasion. Where I find all kinds of interesting stuff.

For example, a copy of Cormac McCarthy's 'Blood Meridian', with dust jacket and looking identical to my own and bought for £11.95 back in 1989 going for close to £300. My copy has now been graced with a book plate just in case someone tries to pinch it. Furthermore, a rather better book than some of his more recent offerings, which from what little I have seen of them look a bit dire.

For example, a copy of the wood engravings of Robert Gibbings, also looking identical to my own. My own which has not only the plastic dust cover (which adds a lot of value) but also the prospectus (which adds another slice). So the fair ground people can't be all bad if they run to some of the books that I have myself.

And then there was the chap who sold a lot of fancy James Joyce. For example, a small hardback copy of the 'The Dubliners' for £125,000. He explained that only a few of them ever got printed in this first edition, there being some problem with the censor or something. But it struck me that the whole business was very like stamp collecting indeed, with the value of the collectibles being geared far more to rarity than to intrinsic value, in this particular case quite low: it does give one a bit of a lift handling an object of this sort, but not £125,000 worth of lift, not to me anyway. Is it significant that most of the customers were slightly shabby older men, not that unlike myself?

With the James Joyce to be compared with an old bible which I came across, a snip at £25,000 or so. Something called a Lutheran bible, printed in Germany, I think in the middle of the 16th century. A short while later someone had had bound in some rather handsome coloured woodcut illustrations, illustrations which had held their colour remarkably well over the centuries. All in all, a truly interesting book, worth far more to me than the Dubliners. Also interesting, the chap (from the US) selling it did not seem to understand my question about whether a modern German could read this old German: he knew all about why the book was valuable, and why it what not as valuable as one which had not been tampered with, but not how it worked.

Lots of foreign stalls, with lots of Europeans and including at least one from Russia. There was also Graham York from Honiton, whose shop I have frequented in the past and from whom, on at least two occasions, I have bought books from, books which, as it happens, I still have. He seems to be strong on drama. See http://www.gyork.co.uk/.

I got the most from the chap on the Blackwell's stand. Perhaps he was not busy so did not mind chatting with someone who was unlikely to buy anything. Anyway, I learned from him that the first editions of D. H. Lawrence, from Duckworths I think, were particular cheap productions. Not posh books at all, but that did not stop them commanding a fair price. I remain amused by the way that having a dust jacket can add so much to the value of an old book.

And if you want to see a sample of the full story, see http://assets.cambridge.org/97805213/91825/sample/9780521391825ws.pdf.

More in my league was a booklet, 25 pages of it, about how to play skat, a game I remember from Švejk and it would have been fun to have the booklet next to the book, which I once knew very well indeed, for a non-Czech. But £25 for a tatty booklet seemed a touch extravagant, even if it was old. I would have been tempted by the book boxes on some of the stalls, fancy boxes with fancy gold tooled labels which would have looked engagingly pretentious on my humble shelves, but it seemed that you could only have a fancy box if you bought one of the much more fancy books which they served to protect in transit.

Then lastly, I find this morning, actually taking a look at the booklet which served as the entry ticket and which one had been given in exchange for the thing printed off the internet, that there were quite a lot of activities at the fair which I completely missed. The St. Bride Foundation, for example, were offering something on letterpress printing and something else on wood engraving, in both of which I might happily have taken an interest. Next year I shall have to retire to the bar and actually read the thing on the spot before I start just drifting around the stands, which is what I did this year. And looking up St. Bride (see http://www.sbf.org.uk/) I find that they offer all kinds of stuff back at their base. There was something, for example, yesterday evening which would have done nicely.